The thrum of the bar's bass vibrated through the floor, a dull counterpoint to the calculated rhythm of Snow’s heart. Her gaze, obsidian-sharp, was fixed across the room on a man who embodied every stereotype of his kind: impossibly handsome, overtly muscular, and radiating an almost palpable aura of predatory charm. His deep green eyes, framed by dark lashes, met hers, and a slow, knowing smile curved his lips. He was hers.

He navigated the crowded room with an easy grace that belied the heavy drinking she’d subtly encouraged. As he neared, she saw the crimson accent of his tie mirrored precisely in the polish on her nails. He reached for her, a gesture of assumed intimacy, and she intercepted his hand mid-air. His thoughts, a chaotic rush of desire, filled her mind. He was already ensnared.

“Not here,” she purred, the words a silken caress against his earlobe. Her lips brushed his skin, a soft, seductive promise. “Pay your tab. Let’s go.” He suppressed a groan, a flicker of annoyance crossing his face before it melted back into hungry anticipation. He was a creature of instinct, easily led. He turned reluctantly, making his way back to the bar. Snow watched him go, a faint, almost imperceptible smirk playing on her lips. Another one. So easy.