The thumping bass vibrated through the floor, a dull rhythm against the sharp edge of the beer bottle in Isabella's hand. She lifted it, letting the cold glass press against her lips, the bitter taste a welcome distraction from the gnawing emptiness inside. Ian. The name tasted like ash. Two women. At once.

A husky voice cut through the noise, smooth as aged whiskey. "How about I buy you a drink? You look like you need one."

Isabella looked up, her gaze locking onto a pair of captivating gray eyes. He had a jawline that could cut glass, framed by a seductive five o'clock shadow. His lips, full and inviting, beckoned. For a moment, the world narrowed to just them, the club's chaos fading into a distant hum. Then, his voice again, a low rumble that sent a shiver down her spine. "Miss?"

She snapped back to reality, a smirk playing on her lips. "What?" The audacity. But then, she saw his own smile, smug and infuriatingly handsome. Maybe, just maybe, another distraction was exactly what she needed.