Page 3 of My Big Fat Fake Alien

He chuckles, the sound warm and low, like he’s indulging a child’s temper tantrum. Itpisses me off, but at the same time, there’s a part of me that wants to claw my way into his good graces just to prove I’m worth the trouble.

“Relax,” he says, raising his hands in mock surrender. “I would never presume anything more than your company—which does, more or less, come with the bottle of champagne.”

He’s right, and I hate that he’s right. My job description includes entertaining the guests, keeping them in their seats, and making them spend more money on drinks. Half the girls here sit and flirt their way into bigger tips. But this? This isn’t just business. I shift in my seat, acutely aware of how close he is, how his presence fills the space between us like static electricity.

“What kind of man are you into, Raven?” he asks, his voice cutting through the tension. His eyes lock onto mine, and I can’t look away.

“You don’t beat around the bush, do you?” I reply, my tone sharper than I intend.

He takes a long sip of his champagne, his gaze never leaving mine. The bubbles cling to the inside of the glass like tiny pearls, and for a moment, I’m jealous of how effortlessly calm he seems.

“Answer me, Raven,” he says, and there’s an edge to his voice now, a command that makes my stomach twist in a way I don’t want to examine too closely.

I lean back in my chair, trying to play it cool, but my fingers fidget with the hem of my skirt. “You want a checklist? Because I’ve got a few dealbreakers. Narcissists, manipulators, and guys who think buying a drink means they’ve bought me.”

He smirks, setting his glass down with deliberate precision. “And here I thought I was just making conversation.”

“Conversation is one thing. Interrogation’s another.”

He leans forward, resting his forearms on the table, and the intensity in his gaze makes my breath catch. “Then let’s call it curiosity. I want to know what makes you tick, Raven. What you want. What you need.”

I swallow hard, my defenses rising like walls. “And what makes you think you’re qualified to know?”

His smile softens, and for the first time, it feels genuine. “Because I’m asking. And because I think you’re worth knowing.”

The words hit me like a punch to the chest, and for a moment, I’m too stunned to speak. The club hums around us, the music and laughter blending into a distant buzz, but all I can focus on is him—his eyes, his voice, the way he makes me feel seen in a way I haven’t in years.

I open my mouth to respond, but the words falter on my tongue. Because deep down, I know this is more than just curiosity. And that scares the hell out of me.

The words tumble out of me before I can stop them. “I just want a man who won’t break my heart, or break me.”

My hand slaps over my mouth like it’s trying to shove the confession back in. Heat floods my cheeks, and I can’t even look at him. What the hell is wrong with me? I don’tdothis. I don’t spill my guts to some guy in a suit who probably thinks vulnerability is a good look on a bottle girl.

Kirk’s silence is worse than anything he could say. I’m frozen, afraid to move, afraid to breathe. The air between us feels charged, like the moment before a thunderstorm. My heart hammers in my chest, and I can’t decide if I want to run or stay.

“If I knew the villain who hurt you,” he finally says, roughly, “I would tear him in half.”

My head snaps up, and I meet his gaze. Those eyes—they burn with something I can’t quite place. Anger, yes, but it’s more than that. It’s protectiveness, a fierceness that makes my stomach twist. I believe him. I believe he could do it.

“Thanks,” I mumble, because what else is there to say? My voice sounds small, foreign to my own ears. I’m used to being sharp, guarded, but right now I feel like I’ve been stripped bare.

He leans in, his hand brushing mine on the table. The contact is electric, sending a jolt through me. “I would never break your heart, Raven. Or break you.”

My breath catches, and for a moment, I let myself believe him. There’s a tenderness in his voice that cuts through all mydefenses. But then I remember—this is how it always starts. The promises, the charm, the slow erosion of everything I am until I’m left with nothing.

Before I can stop myself, I’m leaning in too. His lips meet mine, and it’s like the world stops. The noise of the club fades into the background, and all I can feel is him. His hand cups the back of my neck, gentle but firm, and I melt into it. It’s been so long since I’ve been kissed like this—like I matter, like I’m something worth savoring.

But then the doubts creep in, whispering in the back of my mind. This is too good. Too easy. And when things are too good, they always turn to shit. It’s a rule of my life, written in blood and heartbreak.

I pull away, my chest heaving. Kirk looks at me, confusion flickering across his face. “Raven?—”

“I have to go,” I blurt out, already standing. My legs feel like jelly, but I can’t stay here. Not when I feel this exposed.

I turn and walk away, my heels clicking against the floor. My thoughts are a tangled mess, and I don’t even remember to grab my tip. All I know is that I need to get out of here, away from him, before I do something I’ll regret.

CHAPTER 2

KARC

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