POV: Elena
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The music was loud, the drinks were strong, and for once, I didn't care about anything except losing myself in the chaos.
It had been a week of tight deadlines, glaring coworkers, and Zayden Wolfe being… well, Zayden. Hot one moment, distant the next. Sweet only to me, cold to everyone else. Teasing me like he knew I'd fall—then pulling back before I could land.
So when Chloe and some of the newer girls invited me out for drinks after work, I said yes without thinking.
I needed this.
I needed to stop thinking about him.
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Two shots of tequila and half a strawberry daiquiri later, I was tipsy enough to laugh freely and sway to the beat, my cheeks flushed, my hair loose, and my heart—finally—light.
"You look so good tonight, Elena," one of the guys from Legal leaned in, voice a little too close.
"Thanks," I said politely, stepping away.
But he followed. "C'mon, dance with me."
"She said no."
The voice sliced through the air like a blade.
I turned—and there he was.
Zayden.
In a black button-down, sleeves rolled to his elbows, sharp jaw clenched, and eyes locked on the guy like he could knock him out with one look.
The guy raised his hands. "Alright, chill."
Zayden didn't even blink.
And when he finally looked at me, his gaze softened—but only a little.
"What are you doing here?" I breathed.
He stepped closer. "That's what I should be asking you."
"I'm out with friends."
"You look drunk."
"I'm not drunk," I mumbled, wobbling slightly.
He caught me before I could stumble. His hands on my waist were warm—too warm.
"Okay," I admitted, "maybe a little."
He didn't let go. "You didn't tell me you were going out."
"You're not my boyfriend," I said, a little sharper than I meant to.
But he didn't flinch.
"No," he said, voice low. "But I wanted to be the guy you told."
My breath caught.
He stared down at me, eyes flicking from my eyes to my lips and back again.
"You have no idea what you do to me, Elena."
The music faded in my ears. All I could hear was my heartbeat.
"Then show me."
It slipped out before I could stop it.
And just like that—he kissed me.
Hard. Desperate. Like he'd been waiting forever.
His hand cradled the back of my neck, the other pulling me closer, deeper. I melted into him—into the taste of him, the feel of his chest against mine, the warmth of his breath.
I didn't care that we were in public. I didn't care who saw.
In that moment, I was just… his.
When we finally pulled away, breathless, he rested his forehead against mine.
"That shouldn't have happened," he murmured.
"But it did," I whispered back.
He nodded once. "Yeah."
A pause. His hand still holding mine.
"And it's not the last time."
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