He hadn't meant to disappear.
He just… couldn't go back.
Not after the way she looked at him — not through him, but past him. Like he was nothing but glass. Something to glance at, then forget.
So he buried himself in the only place that still made sense: work.
The bar had changed. Louder. Sweatier. Tourists packed in like heat-drunk moths, chasing neon and overpriced drinks.
Jace moved through them on autopilot — mixing, pouring, laughing at the right moments. Pretending it didn't gut him every time someone asked if she was coming back.
"You good?" Eli, the barback, asked during a smoke break. "You've been grinding like you're trying to outrun something."
"I'm fine," Jace muttered, eyes on the sidewalk.
Eli took a drag, exhaled. "She really messed you up, huh?"
"She didn't mess me up." Jace flicked ash from a cigarette he wasn't actually smoking. "She reminded me why I don't get involved."
"Right." Eli grinned. "And I'm still saving myself for marriage."
Jace didn't even crack a smile.
The truth was uglier than he'd admit: he hadn't been sleeping. Not really.
Every time he closed his eyes, she was there — not in memory, but in sensation. The scrape of her nails. The press of her voice, low and lethal. The hunger in her touch that felt more like a dare than desire.
And it pissed him off.
Because he wasn't that guy.
Or at least, he didn't used to be.
Soraya
Two floors above a courtroom, Soraya lounged in a black silk blouse and quiet contempt.
Her office was all sharp lines and colder silence — a corner suite with a view and zero warmth. Perfect.
The firm was notorious. Not just high-powered — cutthroat. The kind of place where smiles were weapons and handshakes came with clauses.
And Soraya?
She wasn't just a lawyer.
She was the one they called when they wanted something destroyed.
Hostile takeovers. Legal dismantling. Corporate death by precision.
She didn't build. She razed.
Her desk was pristine, her calendar full, and her patience nonexistent. Her assistant had already learned: unless the building was actively on fire, don't knock.
The phone vibrated again — her managing partner pushing for brunch with some billionaire client she didn't care about. She let it ring.
Because her mind wasn't on strategy.
It was on him.
Jace.
The name coiled under her skin like a bruise.
She hadn't checked his socials in almost four hours. A personal record.
Still, something knotted in her chest when she pictured him behind that bar — too warm, too kind, too... available.
She hated that about him. That softness. That light.
But she hated the silence more.
She opened her laptop. Not consciously. It was muscle memory now.
Searched his name.
Nothing.
No stories. No tags. No blurry nightclub photos.
It was like he'd gone still.
For someone so used to being wanted, Soraya couldn't decide what was worse — the fact that he'd vanished…
…or the fact that she actually noticed.