Dancing with a stranger

Chapter |5✨

The bar was small, cute, and lived up to its name. I walked in and immediately spotted Grace and Charlie at the bar.

I made my way over, grabbing Grace's neck playfully. She spun around fast, about to smack me, while Charlie laughed. "Hi," I said, side-hugging her. I signaled the bartender for a beer and let the moment settle.

After a while of chatting and laughing with them, I excused myself for the bathroom. The restroom smelled of soap and lemon, ordinary and calming—at least for a moment.

On my way out, I bumped into a guy. I looked up, and froze. Gray eyes—sharp, impossible, mesmerizing.

Then my gaze dropped. Shoes. Shiny, expensive shoes. And suddenly, my stomach betrayed me.

I gagged, unable to stop myself.

"Oh my God! I'm so sorry. I didn't mean— I didn't think I had that much—" I stammered, horrified.

"Hey, it's okay. Sit. I'll get you some water," he said calmly, passing me a bottle and guiding me to the nearest table. His voice was steady, measured. Nothing about him seemed rushed, yet every move suggested control.

"I... I have to get back to my friends," I babbled, trying to stand, nearly collapsing. Strong arms caught me effortlessly.

"Let me help. Where are they?"

"By the bar. Charlie and Grace," I managed, breath catching.

⸻

10 a.m.

I woke on a couch I didn't recognize, still in my clothes. My phone lay on the floor next to my purse—5 texts, 13 missed calls from Grace, and 3 from my father.

Legs shaky, I tried to find the bathroom, but froze halfway down the hallway. There, in the dining room, sat Kian Garcia, absorbed in his phone. The sight of him made my stomach tighten.

I cleared my throat. Nothing.

He glanced up, gray eyes scanning me, and smirked—a slow, deliberate smile. Calm. Confident. Dangerous.

"So... you're here too," I whispered, uneasy.

He studied me for a long beat before speaking. "Looks like it." His voice smooth, effortless, as if he'd been expecting me.

"What the hell am I doing in your house?" I shouted, frustration and disbelief cracking my voice. "You—of all people—could've killed me!"

He didn't flinch. Just leaned back against the doorway, eyes cold. "My father's away on business," he said. "And I kept you here because, if you hadn't thrown up on my shoes, you'd have been passed out cold on the floor."

Embarrassment hit, but I didn't care. Survival came first.

"I'm sorry. But why—why here?"

"I wasn't about to risk your father's men getting involved," he muttered, expression hardening. "Grace and Charlie disappeared. I couldn't find them."

I blinked, realization washing over me. Despite everything, he'd helped me. I swallowed hard. "Thanks... and I'm really sorry about—"

"Forget it. But you should go. Home. Now," he interrupted, voice softer now, but still firm.

I nodded, uncertain whether to feel relieved or terrified.

⸻

Later, I tried to shake off the nagging unease and pushed myself through a shower, letting the hot water clear my head. Steam filled the room, carrying away a little of the lingering panic. Afterward, I called Grace.

"Where the hell have you been?" she demanded, half-annoyed, half-relieved.

"I'm fine," I said, tucking in frustration. "But you can't just ditch me like that."

She apologized, but I knew she didn't grasp it fully.

By late evening, I hit the gym to shake off the tension. The place was nearly empty. I ran through warm-ups, but then noticed him—the same guy from earlier. Standing in the shadows, watching me.

I shook it off and moved to the punching bag, letting rhythm and motion keep me grounded. Ashton's instructions cut through the tension: "Left foot kick! Right arm punch! Right foot kick!"

Even after the workout, as I headed to my car, I saw him again, lingering by the exit.

Then the click of a gun. Cold metal pressed against my temple.

"Get in the car," a low voice commanded.

Panic surged. I froze, mind racing, body frozen.

Gunshots cracked the night. Kian appeared, calm, precise. The man threatening me lay motionless on the pavement, dark spreading beneath him.

"You alright?" Kian asked, voice steady, a flicker of unreadable emotion in his eyes.

I couldn't speak. My body refused. "What... what just happened?"

"You were about to be a hostage," he said. Cold. Controlled. "I wasn't going to let that happen."

"Why... why are you here?" I whispered.

He glanced over his shoulder, scanning for threats. "Your father didn't tell you about me, did he?"

Sirens wailed in the distance. His tone shifted. "We need to go. Now."

Instinctively, I trusted him. Heart still racing, I followed, adrenaline and fear coiling tight inside me. The night had just begun.