There were worse things than being stranded in the middle of nowhere during a rainstorm.

For example, you could be running from a rabid bear or tied to a chair in a dark basement, forced to listen to Barbie Girl on repeat. But just because things could be worse didn't mean they didn't suck.

You stared at your phone, frustration tightening your grip as the Uber app continued its never-ending Finding your ride... message. The rain pounded against the bus shelter, icy droplets slipping through the cracks and soaking into your clothes.

Josh's farewell party started in an hour. You still had to pick up his cake, and it would be dark soon. Alone. In the middle of nowhere. Great.

Your mind ran through your limited options. No buses. No working rideshare. Most of your friends didn't own a car. Bridget had car service, but she was at an embassy event. And Josh—

Your stomach churned. You knew what you had to do.

With a deep breath, you pulled up a contact you really didn't want to call.

One ring. Two. Three.

"What's wrong?"

Josh. No greeting, just instant concern. Typical.

You scrunched your nose. "Hello to you too, brother dearest."

Josh sighed. "Where are you?"

You told him.

"What the hell are you doing *there*? That's an hour from campus!"

You winced at the thunder shaking the trees around you. "Engagement shoot. Got stuck when the rain hit."

A rustling noise came through the speaker, followed by a soft moan.

You froze. "Oh my God. *Are you having sex right now?*"

Josh, completely unbothered, replied, "Technically, no."

Your stomach turned. "Josh Chen, I swear to—"

"One of the guys took my car to get ice," he cut in. "But don't worry, I got you. Stay put. He'll be there soon."

You blinked. "He?"

Click. He hung up.

A sinking feeling settled in your chest. Josh had a lot of friends, but the way he'd said he made you uneasy.

You pulled your bag tighter against your body and waited. The sky darkened, the air thick with rain and distant city lights. You weren't scared—okay, maybe a little—but you trusted Josh. If his friend flaked, someone would lose their kneecaps by morning.

A sleek, black Aston Martin pulled up, headlights slicing through the storm. You exhaled in relief—until you saw who was driving. Your pulse stuttered.

_Alex Volkov._

Of all the people Josh could've sent, it had to be him. Cold, ruthless, and completely uninterested in saving stranded girls from rainstorms.

The passenger window slid down.

"Get in." His voice was calm, controlled. The rain barely dared to touch him. And you didn't move.

"I hope you're not expecting me to open the door for you."

What a gentleman.

Biting back a retort, you climbed into the car. It smelled like expensive leather and crisp cologne. You tried not to shift too much, hoping you wouldn't ruin the pristine seats with your rain-soaked clothes.

Silence.

Alex didn't acknowledge you, his focus locked on the road. He drove like he did everything else—precisely, dangerously, effortlessly in control.

Josh's best friend. Your worst nightmare.

You pressed your lips together, sinking into the icy quiet as the city lights blurred past.

This was going to be a long ride.