Chapter 2

Lucia should have forgotten about Adrian Sinclair the moment he walked out of Ember Lounge.

But the universe, it seemed, had other plans.

The following evening, just as the bar was settling into its usual rhythm of clinking glasses and smooth jazz, Adrian strolled back in like he owned the place.

Lucia frowned as she caught sight of him, dressed in another flawlessly tailored suit, his presence commanding attention without him having to say a word. He wasn't alone this time—a few well-dressed men trailed behind him, business associates, she assumed. Yet, as he made his way to the bar, it was clear who he was really here for.

Mia nudged her. "You've got an admirer."

"He's wasting his time."

"That's what makes it fun to watch."

Lucia sighed, turning just as Adrian slid into the barstool directly in front of her.

"Back again?" she said flatly.

He smirked. "Told you I'd see you around."

"Let me guess. Another Old Fashioned?"

"Only if you make it."

Lucia rolled her eyes but grabbed the ingredients, refusing to let him get under her skin. "I hope you don't think showing up here means you'll get special treatment."

"Of course not," he said smoothly. "I'm here for the experience."

She glanced at him. "You mean the drinks?"

He tilted his head slightly. "The company."

Lucia refused to acknowledge the way her pulse jumped at the way he looked at her—like he was unraveling her one careful thread at a time. She placed his drink in front of him, deliberately keeping the conversation neutral.

"So, what exactly does a billionaire do for fun? Buy entire islands? Shut down restaurants just to eat alone?"

Adrian chuckled. "I prefer to solve problems. Find solutions where others can't."

Lucia smirked. "Ah, so you throw money at them until they go away?"

He took a sip of his drink, watching her over the rim of his glass. "It's effective."

"Not everything can be fixed with money."

He studied her, his expression unreadable. "That's where you're wrong."

Lucia wanted to argue, to tell him that some things—like loss, loneliness, and the weight of struggling every single day—couldn't be erased with a bank account. But she wasn't about to spill her life story to a man who saw the world through the lens of power and privilege.

So she simply shrugged. "If you say so."

For the first time, something flickered across Adrian's face. Curiosity. Maybe even a hint of... challenge.

Lucia turned her attention to another customer, signaling that the conversation was over. She hoped that would be the last of it. That Adrian Sinclair would get bored and move on, just like all men of his status did when things weren't easy.

But deep down, she had a sinking feeling.

Adrian wasn't just interested.

He was invested.

Lucia had dealt with stubborn customers before. Drunks who didn't know when to call it a night, flirty businessmen who thought a fat tip meant they could own her attention, and spoiled trust-fund kids who demanded special treatment.

But Adrian Sinclair was something else entirely.

For the next week, he showed up at Ember Lounge like clockwork. Always alone, always sitting at the same barstool, always ordering the same drink—from her, and no one else.

At first, Lucia ignored him, hoping he'd get bored and move on. But Adrian Sinclair wasn't the kind of man who lost interest easily.

"I have to say," Mia murmured one night as they both worked behind the bar, "I've never seen a billionaire this dedicated to anything outside of making more money."

Lucia scoffed. "He's wasting his time."

Mia smirked. "Maybe. Or maybe he's just not used to hearing 'no.'"

Lucia didn't dignify that with a response. Instead, she braced herself as Adrian slid into his usual seat and rested his forearms against the bar.

"Let me guess," she said dryly. "An Old Fashioned?"

Adrian smirked. "You're starting to know me well."

She rolled her eyes but started making the drink anyway. "You do realize there are other bars in this city, right? Hundreds, actually."

He shrugged. "I like this one."

She set his drink in front of him. "Or maybe you just like being where you're not wanted."

Adrian took a sip, his eyes never leaving hers. "That's an assumption. How do you know I'm not wanted?"

Lucia folded her arms, giving him a pointed look. "Because I'm telling you."

He chuckled, as if her rejection only amused him. "You're not like the others," he mused. "Most people either want something from me or try to impress me. But you? You don't care at all."

"Exactly," she said. "So why are you still here?"

Adrian leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a low murmur. "Because you're interesting."

Lucia felt a flicker of something—annoyance, curiosity, maybe even attraction—but she crushed it before it could take root.

"I'm not here to entertain you," she said. "I work. I study. I survive. That's it."

Something unreadable passed through Adrian's expression. "Survive?"

She tensed. Had she said too much?

Adrian swirled his drink in his glass, as if considering his next words. "You're different, Lucia."

She froze.

Her name.

She never told him her name.

Her heart pounded as she met his gaze, which held a quiet challenge.

"How do you know my name?" she asked, her voice dangerously calm.

Adrian didn't look the least bit apologetic. "You wear a name tag, bartender."

Lucia exhaled, feeling both relief and irritation. "Right."

"But even if you didn't," he added, "I would've found out eventually."

She narrowed her eyes. "That sounds like something a stalker would say."

Adrian laughed, shaking his head. "I prefer the term persistent."

Lucia huffed, turning away to serve another customer. If Adrian thought his persistence would wear her down, he was sorely mistaken.

But what she didn't realize was that Adrian Sinclair wasn't just here for a fleeting distraction.

He could be behind his desk going through the pile of documents waiting for him or at yet another business meeting but here he was in a bar.

He had found something in Lucia Gregory—something that fascinated him.

And Adrian Sinclair always got what he wanted.