Chapter 2 The Party

POV: Drew

"Come on, man. One last night of freedom!" his college buddy, Marco, yelled over the thumping bass of the music.

Drew laughed, beer already in hand, trying to relax into the chaos of the crowded rooftop bar. Strobe lights flickered, and bodies moved to the beat like waves. His friends had insisted on throwing him a "pre-bachelor bash"-just the boys, they said.

He wasn't even sure he wanted to be there, but Drew hadn't seen some of them since college.

"Don't worry, Liza's got nothing to worry about," Jed added with a wink. "You're the most loyal guy we know."

That word again. Loyal.

Drew grinned. "Still am."

But even as he said it, he felt it: the subtle itch under his skin. The way the air changed around him when she walked in.

POV: Brie

She spotted him before he saw her.

Drew Santiago-sharp jawline, easy confidence, and the kind of smile that made women turn twice. Brie didn't usually go for the taken ones, but something about him made her curious. The way he sat apart from his friends, sipping quietly, watching instead of diving into the crowd.

She tossed her curls back and made her way toward him, drink in hand.

"Is this seat taken?" she asked, eyes playful.

Drew blinked up, caught off guard. "Uh-no. Go ahead."

She sat, crossing her legs deliberately. "You don't look like a guy celebrating."

Drew raised a brow. "Excuse me?"

"I heard it's your wedding soon," Brie said with a sly grin. "Congratulations."

He chuckled. "And here I was hoping no one in this party would say the word marriage tonight."

"Ouch," she said, mock-gasping. "So you are one of those cold-feet grooms."

He turned to face her. "Not at all. Just... tired of everyone treating me like I'm about to be buried alive."

Brie smirked. "Then let's treat tonight like you're still breathing."

POV: Drew

He knew he shouldn't have let the conversation go on. But something about Brie's wildness... it reminded him of a part of himself he hadn't visited in years.

They talked. Laughed. Drank.

Then more drinks came. Then shots. She danced, and he watched. Then she pulled him to the dance floor.

Her hands on his chest. Her lips near his ear. Her perfume-bold and intoxicating.

"You don't have to kiss me," she whispered.

"But you want to."

Drew stared at her-eyes, lips, neck. Everything screamed danger.

"I have a fiancée," he mumbled, dizzy.

"Who isn't here," Brie replied, closing the space between them.

POV: Brie

She knew this look. Knew that moment right before a man gave in. It wasn't about falling in love-it was about curiosity, temptation, ego.

And Brie? She didn't believe in love. But she believed in power.

And tonight, she had it.

POV: Drew

He woke up disoriented.

Dim light. A hotel room.

The scent of sex hung in the air. A woman lay next to him, tangled in sheets. His head pounded. And then-her voice.

"Morning, fiancé," Brie whispered, stretching.

Drew sat up, panic flooding his chest. "What the hell did I-"

"You don't remember?" Brie tilted her head, amused. "Interesting."

He grabbed his clothes, heart racing. "This was a mistake."

Brie didn't flinch. "You didn't say that last night."

POV: Drew (Later That Day)

As he sat in the parking lot outside his condo, Drew stared at his phone.

Liza had sent a good morning message earlier. A heart. A smiley face. A photo of their wedding invites.

He wanted to cry. Or scream.

Instead, he typed:

"Morning, babe. Can't wait to see you later. I missed you."

He hit send.

Then leaned back, guilt clawing at his throat.

But as shame filled him, so did something else: a terrible, quiet voice.

"You're a man. You made a mistake. No need to destroy everything over one night."

But one night never stays just one night.

And Brie wasn't done with him yet.