Page 22 of Property of Fox

I turn toward one side of the bar where there are slightly fewer bodies milling and start making my way there when out of nowhere…BAM! I'm slammed against solid muscle, trailing off mid-thought while bracing myself against his chest for balance as something cold splashes onto me from above.

“Oh shit! I am so sorry!" My voice bursts forth before I even fully register who stands tall before me. A guy whose raw presence commands attention despite standing shoulder-to-shoulder with hundreds tonight. His hair is pulled tight into a man bun atop his head. It makes him look fierce yet oddly inviting in this chaotic space filled with shimmering dresses and glinting accessories.

His dark eyes widen momentarily, the drink in his hand now a sopping mess cascading down the front of his black leather jacket. The rumble of laughter and chatter around us fades as I focus on him, my cheeks burning with embarrassment. “I didn’t see you there!” My voice rises an octave too high. A desperate plea for forgiveness rolls off my tongue.

“Looks like we both ended up soaked tonight,” he replies, brushing a few glistening droplets away with leisurely elegance.

“I can get you another…” My words tumble out hurriedly.

"Don’t worry about it," he chuckles. “I don’t mind getting a little wet with a beautiful woman. I’m Fox,” he adds, his voice smooth like well-aged whiskey he is drinking.

“Can I get you another drink?”

“Are you planning on getting us both soaked again if I say yes?”

My heart races at his playful tone, and I manage to let out a small laugh despite the nervous flutter wreaking havoc in my stomach. “Of course not,” I reply quickly, feeling slightly bolder. Flirting with danger feels like an entirely different thrill.

He leans closer. Close enough that I can see distinct tattoos winding around his forearm, intricate designs swirling together into something beautiful but menacing all at once, much like him. “I’d much prefer to get you wet, firefly.” His words ooze with confidence, setting my heart racing for reasons beyond his boldness.

"Firefly?" I repeat, tilting my head to study him closely.

"Yeah," he drawls, leaning back until our eyes lock in an intimate moment shielded from the crowd's scrutiny. "Since you didn’t give me your name, I have to call you something now, don’t I? You've got that sweet glow about you."

“I, uh…” I stammer.

“Do I make you nervous?” His laughter dances through the air between us, a rich, textured sound that pulls me deeper into this moment where nothing else matters. The chaos of the party blurring into an inconsequential backdrop. “You seem like you might be trouble,” he says.

“Me? Trouble?” I feign innocence, my lips curling into a smile despite the rising warmth in my cheeks as I shy away from the intensity of his gaze. “I think trouble usually finds me instead.”

“Aren't we all just seekers of trouble in a place like this?” Fox gestures around us broadly, and I suddenly notice other party-goers sneaking glances our way. Some with raised brows and some with envy. “

“More like over-caffeinated fans needing an excuse to dress up.”

“You’re probably right about that. But, what’s the fun in life without pretending to be something else every once in a while,”he declares boldly, stepping closer as if drawing from some unspoken well of confidence. The intimate distance feels electric and dizzying all at once. “How about we go get that drink you owe me and we see how the night goes?”

Before I can dwell too long on the implications of that invitation, before doubt can creep in to spoil the spontaneity, I nod. "Alright, let's do it."

His grin widens, revealing a set of charmingly crooked teeth that somehow add to his allure. Fox takes my hand with easy confidence, threading his fingers through mine and pulling me through the crowd toward the bar. The chatter and music swell around us, but they fade into a background hum as our eyes lock, creating an unspoken connection that sends thrills racing down my spine.

"What's your poison?" he asks, his voice low enough that I have to lean in closer, brushing against the warmth radiating from his body. I can't help but revel in the attention. It feels intoxicating and new.

"I usually stick to wine…" I trail off as I glance toward the expansive selection behind the bar where glimmering bottles line the walls.

"Then let's do whiskey," he declares with a grin that promises adventure.

With the swipe of his hand, he orders two double shots of amber liquid from the bartender, locking his eyes on mine as if daring me to take a leap into this uncharted territory. My heart races at the challenge wrapped up in his simple request. I can feel every pulse of anticipation thrumming at my fingertips.

He hands me one glass. Its weighs heavy in my palm and he lifts his to meet mine. “To trouble and a night we won't forget,” he toasts.

“To trouble,” I echo, matching his intensity as we clink our glasses together. The whiskey burns down my throat, smooth yet fierce.

"So, firefly," Fox leans in closer, his breath brushing against my ear. “Are you here as a reader or an author?”

I chuckle nervously, trying to maintain composure while my insides flutter at the implication of that question. “Reader. I came with a friend of mine, but she kind of left me behind chasing down an author she wanted to meet.”

“I’m glad your friend abandoned you,” Fox continues with a smirk that threatens to unravel all my carefully laid defenses. “Or else I wouldn’t have had this opportunity.” His confidence is disarming, a simmering edge that makes it difficult to think clearly. I can feel the warmth of his body, he's magnetic and entirely too intoxicating.

"I guess so," I respond, biting back laughter as if this whole situation is some kind of cosmic accident that mysteriously deposited me right into his orbit. “What about you? Are you here with your girlfriend or wife?”

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