Page 5 of Charming Villain

She settles in beside me. For a moment, neither of us speaks. The bar around us hums with low conversation, sporadic laughter, and the dull clink of glass on wood. Finn’s might be a dive, but it’s a dive that forgives all sins. Exactly what I need. Exactly, I guess, what she needs, too.

When she finally speaks, her voice is soft. “Rough night?”

I snort, downing another swallow of whiskey. “That obvious, huh?”

“Kind of,” she replies, a hint of teasing in her tone. She lifts her fizz, sipping it slowly, eyes never leaving mine. There’s a crackle in the air I can’t ignore. We’re two loaded guns pointed at each other, too reckless to back down.

“And you?” I ask, letting my gaze travel over the delicate slope of her collarbone before returning to her face. “You don’t exactly look like the typical clientele.”

She arches a brow, feigning mild offense. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

I shrug, running my finger along the rim of my glass. “Just that you’re a littlepolishedfor a place like this.” The neon lights catch the expensive fabric of her dress, making her stand out like a diamond in a coal mine.

She exhales a laugh, but it’s tinged with bitterness. “Maybe I’m here to get tarnished.” The way she says it makes it sound like both an invitation and a warning.

That’s interesting. My stomach tightens, heat pooling low in my gut as I study her face in the dim light. “Then you came to the right spot.” God knows I’m prepared to ruin myself tonight. Might as well invite her along for the ride if that’s what she wants. After all, misery loves company.

She sets her drink down, swirling a fingertip around the rim. “I didn’t catch your name,” she says, glancing at me from beneath dark lashes.

“Luca,” I lie, my voice steady, the false identity slipping out as easily as the truth might. It’s best not to give more information than necessary. “And you?”

A brief hesitation flickers in her eyes before she smiles. “Allegra.”

I lean back slightly, crossing an ankle over my knee, a lazy posture. “You sure about that?” I ask, watching the way her fingers still on the glass in her hands. Something about her hesitation feels familiar—the careful consideration before offering up a name, real or not.

Her breath hitches almost imperceptibly. “I’m sure.” Her tone invites no argument, though we both know it’s bullshit. A part of me respects that. We’re two liars in a den of thieves, feeding each other illusions because illusions are safer than the truth.

“Allegra,” I repeat, letting the syllables roll across my tongue. “Pretty name.” She’s definitely pretty, in a way that makes me forget everything except the warmth of her gaze.

“Thank you,” she murmurs, her eyes roaming over my face as if searching for cracks in my facade. She won’t find them. I’ve been patching them up for years.

I flag the bartender with a subtle tilt of my chin, nodding toward her drink. “Another one?”

She lifts her half-finished glass in a mock toast. “You don’t have to buy me a drink.”

I give her a crooked grin. “Maybe I’m not doing it for you. Maybe I’m doing it for me.” The bartender approaches, and I order another drink for Allegra and a refill of whiskey for myself.

“Sounds dangerously self-serving.” She taps a fingertip against her lip, feigning disapproval.

“I’m a dangerous man,” I drawl, half-joking but mostly not. “You can leave anytime. I won’t stop you.”

That hush between us returns, charged and electric. She sets down her empty glass, biting her lip as if she’s mulling over whether to stay or go. For a second, I’m convinced she’ll walk away—maybe find a safer mark to flirt with. Instead, she exhales with a shrug. “I’m not looking for safe,” she admits so softly I almost miss it.

A prickle travels along my spine. Her words echo my own hunger. Neither of us wants safe. We’re both here to gamble with our lives or maybe our sanity. I watch her closely as the bartender sets fresh drinks in front of us.

“Thank you,” she says, picking up the fancy glass. Our fingers brush when I slide it closer, and a jolt of awareness sparks at the contact. Her skin is cool against my calloused knuckles. I realize, with a start, that my heart is pounding harder than it has all night.

I raise my whiskey in a silent toast, and she does the same. The corner of her mouth quirks up in a small smile that catches me off guard. We clink glasses, the faint chime swallowed by the noise of the bar.

“To the dark side,” I say, only half-teasing.

She echoes my words, bringing the glass to her lips. “To the dark side.”

We drink, and for a moment, I let myself float in this bubble of something resembling peace. The whiskey leaves a satisfying ache in my chest, but her eyes burn hotter. I wonder what she sees when she looks at me—a man drowning his sorrows or a ticking time bomb waiting to detonate?

Allegra sets her glass down with a soft clink, and when she shifts on the stool, her knee brushes mine. The subtle contact sends an unexpected throb of heat through my body. My gaze drops to where her legs are crossed, the black dress revealing just enough skin to make my pulse skip. I’ve had nights with random women before—fast, hollow entanglements that meant nothing. But there’s something about her that draws me in deeper than mere lust. It’s like we’re feeding off each other’s desperation.

We drift into a conversation that’s equal parts banter and confession without details. She jokes about how she’s never been in a place like Finn’s, and I throw out some half-truths about how I’m usually found in more upscale joints. We dance around the real reason we’re here, but I sense the weight behind every word she doesn’t say. Each sentence grazes something raw underneath.

---