Alaina sat in her small hospital office. She rubbed the tight muscles at the back of her neck, exhausted from the long shift.
Her phone vibrated against the wooden desk. The screen lit up with the caller ID: Aunt Judith.
Alaina let out a heavy sigh. She swiped the green button and pressed the phone to her ear.
Aunt Judith's loud, commanding voice immediately filled the speaker, launching into her usual lecture about Alaina's single status.
"I have arranged a dinner for you tonight," Judith announced, leaving no room for argument. "His name is Mark Hoffman. He is a very successful corporate lawyer."
"Aunt Judith, I can't. The hospital has been crazy, I'm too tired," Alaina tried to decline.
"You will go," Judith snapped, using her authority as the family elder. "I am doing this for your own good, Alaina. You cannot work yourself into an early grave alone."
Alaina's mind was still spinning from the image of Jarred's phone wallpaper. She didn't have the energy to fight. She agreed just to get Judith off the phone.
She tossed the phone onto the desk and ran her hands through her hair in frustration.
The next evening, Alaina stood in front of her open closet in her apartment.
She pulled out a simple, well-tailored black silk slip dress. It was elegant but conservative.
Claire leaned against the doorframe, whistling loudly. "Alaina, put this on and you will be the show-stopping Sera of the night! I swear, ever since college, that has been my favorite alter ego for you when you dress to kill."
Alaina offered a weak smile. "Stop with the college nicknames, Claire." She grabbed her clutch, slipped into a beige trench coat, and walked out the door.
She took an Uber to Midtown Manhattan. The car pulled up to an exclusive, members-only restaurant.
Alaina pushed open the heavy glass doors. The sound of soft jazz and the low hum of wealthy patrons filled the air.
A blonde hostess named Anna Bell greeted her with a polished smile and checked her reservation.
Anna gestured gracefully, leading Alaina through the dimly lit, opulent dining room.
Alaina spotted Mark immediately. He was sitting in a corner booth, wearing a sharp grey suit.
Seeing her approach, Mark stood up quickly, flashing an eager smile, and pulled out her chair.
Alaina thanked him politely, sat down, and handed her trench coat to a waiting waiter.
Across the expansive dining room, hidden behind a curtain of crystal beads, sat a VIP semi-private booth.
Jarred was leaning back against the dark leather sofa. He held a crystal glass of whiskey over ice in his right hand.
His friends, Preston Hayes and Lachlan Rhodes, sat across from him, deeply engaged in a conversation about real estate.
Jarred lifted his eyes lazily. His gaze drifted through the gaps in the crystal beads and scanned the main floor.
His eyes locked onto the woman in the black silk dress who had just sat down.
The moment he recognized Alaina, the lazy indifference in Jarred's eyes vanished, replaced by something dark and incredibly dangerous.
He watched the man sitting across from her. He saw the way Mark looked at Alaina-a look full of hungry, possessive appreciation.
Jarred's fingers tightened around the whiskey glass. His knuckles popped loudly.
His hand shook slightly with suppressed rage. The ice cubes clinked sharply against the crystal glass.
Jarred tilted his head back and swallowed the burning liquor in one shot. A violent storm was brewing in his black eyes.
