Confessions of a Twenty-Something City Girl

A Wager for the Night

Justin leans back against the poker table, a dark chuckle slipping from his lips as he obnoxiously downs the last of Kat's fruity cocktail. "Alright, alright," he says, his eyes flashing with trouble. "How about a game of roulette? Best of three rounds. Winner takes all—five grand. You in?"

"Five grand, huh?" Noah raises an eyebrow, a sly smile curling at the corners of his mouth. I've seen that smile before—it's the one that says game on. "Deal. But first..." he pauses, his hand slipping back into mine. "I owe my girl a dance. We'll meet you at the table," he adds, his voice low.

I feel the heat of Noah's palm as he guides me toward the dance floor. Behind us, I can hear Justin and Kat snickering, clearly plotting their next move. Great, I was fresh out of items to stress over tonight.

I nervously take a sip of my tequila soda, the black cocktail napkin—engraved with "Happy Birthday, Diana" in gold—warm against my hand. "You don't have to do this, Noah."

That billionaire smile of his flickers back, a little dangerous, a little too charming, as he looks down at me with those smoldering eyes. "I'm killing two birds with one stone, baby." His voice drops to a teasing whisper. "If I remember correctly, you did bet me a night alone with you... here, tonight."

With a mischievous grin, he tosses back his drink, setting the glass down on the black sequined tablecloth beside our golden name tags—Kingston Hart and Noah Westbrook—the names glowing softly in the low light. Behind them, an extravagant red feather centerpiece towers, while scarlet roses in crystal vases and polished golden plates burst with color, contrasting against the dark, opulent backdrop.

I can't help but giggle, though my mind is still nervously processing everything that just happened. "Oh, I definitely remember. And I'm not the kind of girl to back out on a wager."

I set my drink and purse down at our place settings, then turn to Noah.

"Dance with me?" he asks, his voice smooth, and I nod, letting him take my hand. He leads me toward the black-and-white swirl of the glossy dance floor.

I slide my hand along Noah's crisp white button-down, drawing myself closer to him, the warmth of his body irresistibly inviting. Above us, red roses seem to float in midair, and just as if on cue, the fifteen-piece big band in their tuxedos shifts the mood with a soft, romantic tune. They start playing an enchanting arrangement of "The Way You Look Tonight" by Frank Sinatra, and in that moment, it feels as though we're the only two people in the room.

Noah's voice rumbles softly, a playful edge to it. "What was with the nervous laugh earlier?" he pulls me in closer, his strong hand settling on my waist, the other slipping easily into mine as we begin to dance.

I glance up at Noah, tilting my head slightly as we move in sync to the silky rhythm of the song. He's completely caught me off guard. "What do you mean?"

"Well, baby," he says, his calm, confident blue eyes locking with mine. "You have different laughs." His warm breath brushes my cheek, making my skin tingle.

My face heats up instantly. "Oh?" I manage to squeak, my curiosity piqued and my pulse quickening.

"You have a laugh for when you're being polite at work," Noah says with a slight grin, guiding me into a soft spin. His hand rests gently on my back as we fall into the tempo. "There's this little eye roll, a subtle raise of your brows like you're holding something back... but it's so precious."

My heart skips a beat. I hadn't realized he was paying such close attention to me.

"And then," he continues, a little more teasing now, his eyes sparkling as he pulls me back toward him. "There's your hysterical laugh. You know, when something really cracks you up—usually with your friends, or when you're completely caught off guard." He gives a playful chuckle, as if recalling the last time he heard it. "It's that full-on belly laugh. A little messy, but crazy adorable."