Page 26 of Deliah
He pointed to a dimly lit bar up ahead, loud with bass and full of life. We pushed through the crowd towards them. Familiar faces greeted me—cheeky, loud, playful. One of them pulled me straight into a hug, spinning me around.
“Deliah! You finally came out! Missed your madness!”
I laughed, genuine and free for the first time in weeks. I hugged them all, one by one, the usual banter firing between us like old times.
And then I felt it.
The weight of a stare.
That was when I saw him.
I didn’t notice him at first—he didn’t move, didn’t speak. He was just there. Still. Calm. Like the eye of a storm. Black tailored trousers, Prada boat shoes, and a white shirt—crisp, clean, and fitted across his chest like it was made just for him. His sleeves were rolled up to the elbows, revealing tanned forearms and a watch that probably cost more than my year’s rent.
And his face. God help me—his face. Sharp cheekbones. A jawline that looked carved from stone. His dark hair was short on the sides, messier on top, and his skin was golden, kissed by the sun. But it was his eyes that stopped me cold—icy blue,unreadable, and locked straight on me. He wasn’t smiling. He wasn’t even blinking. He just watched me. I didn’t breathe. Something shifted in my chest—something slow and hot and terrifying. I turned to Cherry, pulling her close. “Who the hell is that?”
She followed my gaze, eyebrows raised. “No idea,” she muttered. “But fuck me, he’s fit.”
We both stared for a beat too long, then burst out laughing. I tried to shake it off, tried to pull myself back to the safety of the group, but I could still feel him. I could feel his eyes on me like a hand at my throat. I turned back to him without thinking and let my gaze travel down his body—slow, deliberate, cocky.
Then it just came out, unfiltered, straight from my mouth before my brain could stop me.
“Fuck me… I’m going to ruin you.” It slipped from my lips like a dare.
The lads roared. “Oh my god, she’s on one already,” one laughed.
But he didn’t laugh. He didn’t flinch. He stepped forward, slow and purposeful, like a panther cornering its prey. His voice dropped low—so low it made my spine ache.
“Say that again,” he murmured, “and I’ll show you what happens when little girls make promises they can’t keep.”
My heart stopped. Just for a second. And then I laughed—loud, wild, reckless. Like I wasn’t already burning alive. Like he hadn’t just ripped the breath straight from my lungs with one sentence. I brushed past him, my shoulder grazing his chest. “Nice line,” I said, over my shoulder. “Bet it works on all the girls.”
Inside, I was screaming.
We made our way into the bar, drinks already waiting. The place was sleek—dark wood floors, leather booths, soft gold lighting. It felt like a world away from the strip. Cherry and I threw back shots like we were invincible. We danced like we were untouchable. We laughed like we hadn’t been crying in showers just a few weeks ago. But every time I turned around, he was there. Still sitting at the bar. Still watching me. Still not smiling. He wasn’t drinking much. Just nursing a whisky like it was a ritual. Cigarette smouldering in one hand. A man who looked like he’d seen too much. Done too much. Owned too much. I could feel him before I even looked. And it made my skin tingle.
Cherry leaned in, eyes flicking to the bar. “He hasn’t taken his eyes off you all night.”
“Good.” I smirked, spinning my hips a little more deliberately, letting my dress ride up as I bent down to pick up my clutch. I danced like he wasn’t there—yet every single move was for him. The heat between us built slowly. Me pretending I didn’t notice. Him pretending he didn’t care. Eventually, I made my way over to the bar. Not to talk to him. Just to… be near. He was close enough to touch. I ordered a vodka cranberry, feeling him next to me like a live wire. He didn’t look at me. Not at first.
So I spoke first. “Enjoying the view?”
His head turned slowly, those eyes dragging over me like fire. “I’ve seen better,” he said, deadpan.
I gasped, laughing despite myself. “Well, fuck you too.”
His lips curled, just slightly. “I didn’t say I didn’t like it. I said I’ve seen better.”
“And I bet they were all just so grateful for the attention.”
He finally smiled then—just a little. “They usually are.”
I rolled my eyes and turned back to the bar, but my pulse was hammering. There was something terrifying about him. Like he saw through people without even trying.
“You’re not from around here,” I said without looking at him.
“And you are?”
I smirked. “I get paid to pretend I am.”
