I invited my colleagues out for drinks, only for my card to be declined at the bar. Desperate, I approached the handsome stranger sitting in the VIP booth.

"Can you cover my tab? I'll pay you back."

The man barely glanced up. "Do I know you?"

I grabbed the wine glass from his hand. "No, but your bodyguard knows me pretty well. Ask him how many times he's called me for help. Don't I deserve a favor in return?"

The man looked completely confused, but his bodyguard raised a hand to shield his face.

"Sir, she's telling the truth. Every time you get drunk, you won't let anyone come near you except her. I've had to call her multiple times just to get you home safely."

The man's friends leaned in, their ears perked up in disbelief.

"Wait, seriously? Jack becomes a total nightmare when he's drunk. There's no way he'd make an exception for anyone."

"I remember one time, I tried to help Jack back to his room after he got wasted. He snapped my arm like a twig."

"Same here. Everyone says drunk Jack turns into the Grim Reaper. Get too close to him, and you're done for. I was young and stupid enough to test it once. I got him completely hammered just to see what would happen. I ended up with fractures all over my body and spent two months in the hospital."

"The doctor said Jack has this insane self-defense reflex. When he's drunk, he doesn't trust anyone, so he attacks whoever comes near him. What makes this girl so special that she's the first person he actually trusts when he's wasted?"

"I don't buy it. You'll have to prove it to us."

I raised an eyebrow and pulled out my phone to show my Venmo. "Sure, wire me $500 first, then I'll give you a demonstration."

Someone actually pulled out their phone and sent me $500. My phone chimed with the payment notification.

I pointed toward the cash register. "Let me go settle my tab first. Get him drunk, then come find me."

Everyone in the booth started egging them on. Only one man, Jackson Channing, narrowed his eyes at me with a dangerous look.

I was not intimidated. I had seen what he looked like drunk plenty of times. I had several photos saved on my phone of him passed out, hugging a toilet.

Ha! He could sit there in his VIP booth looking all dignified and refined, playing the perfect gentleman all he wanted. But in front of me, that image was long gone.

After settling the bill at the counter, my colleagues and I called it a night. They headed home while I turned back toward the booth. I had taken $500, after all. The least I could do was put on a show.

Jackson's friends were already doing their best to get him drunk, trying every trick in the book. However, Jackson was not drinking.

He grabbed my wrist and pulled me straight out of there, shoving me into his luxury Maybach.

The car door slammed shut with an explosive thud, like a shaken soda bottle finally popping its cap.

I rubbed my nose. "It's not my fault you only trust me when you're drunk. You think I enjoy the hassle?"

This whole thing started six months ago.

I had gotten off work late that night and spotted a man sprawled out in the middle of the road, using a rental bike as a blanket.

It was absolutely ridiculous, so I felt like it was perfect content for my social media. I had to get a video.

When I got closer, I caught sight of his face. He was absolutely gorgeous, though he was clearly hammered, reeking of alcohol.

He kept mumbling that he was thirsty and wanted water. I pulled my water bottle from my bag and poured him a sip.

He was surprisingly docile about it, gulping down three big mouthfuls.

I tried to wake him up. "Hey, you can't sleep in the street like this!"

"Where's your phone? I can call someone to pick you up."

The man ignored me completely, sleeping soundly right there on the pavement.

Left with no choice, I rummaged through his pants pockets, discovering in the process that his legs were absurdly long and perfectly sculpted. He could have made a living as a model.

After finding his phone, I unlocked it with facial recognition and called the first contact on his messaging app.

I switched to video call and aimed the camera at his face so whoever answered could see clearly.

"Hey, the owner of this phone is passed out in the street! If you're his friend, you need to come get him."

Before I could send the location, I saw the person on the other end’s absolutely horrified expression.

"Get at least fifteen feet away from him right now!"

I assumed he was worried I might take advantage of the handsome stranger and scoffed.

"Relax! I'm not interested in drunks. I'll send you the location. Just get here soon."

However, his tone grew even more urgent. "Don't ignore what I'm telling you unless you have a death wish!"

What was wrong with this guy? I hung up the video call. Then, I sat down beside the man to wait with him.

He shifted to use my thigh as a pillow, sleeping peacefully under the moonlight.

Ten minutes later, the person from the call arrived. When he saw the scene, he looked like he had seen a ghost.

I insisted, "Look, I didn't lay a finger on your friend."

The moment I finished speaking, the man changed positions. Not only did he rest his head on my thigh, but he also wrapped both arms around my waist, using me like a body pillow.

I tried to pry him off but could not budge him.

I tugged his ear hard. "Hey, wake up! Your friend's here. Let go of me and go home with him."

The man remained completely oblivious, sleeping like the dead.

I could only turn to his friend for help. "Come help me. I can't get his arms off."

Still, the guy stood fifteen feet away and refused to come closer.

I was furious. "Why are you just standing there?"

He said, "I don't want to die."

I stared at him. "What's that supposed to mean?"

The guy explained he was not the drunk's friend but his bodyguard. His name was Derek Walsh.

Eventually, Derek pulled the car over and parked it 15 feet away. He called out to me, "You'll have to figure out how to get him into the car yourself."

"Are you serious? He's your boss, not mine. I was being nice by calling you, yet you're pushing your luck now?"

Derek absolutely refused to help, standing far away with his arms crossed.

I was livid. I dragged the man like a dead weight, taking out all my frustration on the drunk.

Derek must have worried I would injure his boss, because he finally seemed willing to help. However, the next second, the man who had been sleeping like the dead suddenly shot upright.

With lightning speed, he pulled a knife from his waist, shoved me behind him, and lunged at Derek with the blade.

The movement, the speed, the sheer ruthlessness of it all made me genuinely worried this would have turned into a crime scene if Derek had not dodged in time.

I stood there, stunned, my mind racing with questions.

Derek retreated back to his fifteen-foot perimeter and gave me an awkward smile.

"Now you understand why I wouldn't help. When he's drunk, no one can get near him. He becomes extremely aggressive."

Instinctively, I touched my own neck. I needed to run too. However, the drunk man calmly returned the knife to his waist, rested his head on my shoulder, and went right back to sleep.

I was speechless.

Derek looked just as baffled. "You're the only person I've ever seen who can get this close to him when he's drunk."

Was Derek blind? This man was the one leaning on me!

I was on the verge of tears. "What am I supposed to do now?"

Derek said, "I hate to ask, but could you help get him into the car and drive him home? Do you know how to drive?"

"Yeah, I can manage."

I was still skeptical. "You two aren't pranking me, are you? Why would I be the only one who can get close to him? What about his parents?"

Derek said, "His parents passed away years ago. His grandfather is his only family, but even he can't get near him when he's drunk."

This was absolutely insane.

I had to summon every ounce of strength I had to haul the six-foot-tall man into the car, then drive him home myself.

Afterward, Derek added me on Messenger, saying he might need me again in the future.

[Get lost! Not happening.]

Then, Derek transferred me $5,000.

I immediately broke into a smile.

[Of course. Anytime you need! Don't hesitate to call, but it'll be this rate every time.]

Two weeks later, late one evening, Derek suddenly transferred me $5,000.

"Ms. Rivera, there’s an emergency situation. I need your help. Sending you the location now.”

I followed the location to the most luxurious club in the city.

When I pushed open the private room door, I found several bigwigs I had only ever seen on television sprawled across the floor.

Soon after, ambulances arrived and whisked them all away to the hospital in a flurry.

The only person left in the room was Jackson, leaning against a wall in the corner, knife in hand. He was drunk but hyper-aware of his surroundings.

Honestly, with his bloodshot eyes and that murderous aura radiating off him, I was too terrified to get close.

My legs trembled as I quickly refunded the money.

[I can't do this. This is too much!]

Derek immediately sent me $50,000. [I get it. Different job, different rate. You need more, right?]

I really had not meant it that way. But it was $50,000! I was just an underpaid office worker. How could I resist that kind of money?

I walked right up to Jackson, all sweet and innocent.

I carefully tapped his shoulder. "Don't kill me. Put the knife down, okay?"

I genuinely did not expect him to actually listen. Jackson stared at me through bleary, drunken eyes for a long moment, then put the knife away.

The next second, his body swayed, and he collapsed straight into my arms.

Oh my God! He was so heavy. I lost my balance, and we both went crashing to the floor.

Fortunately, just before we hit the ground, he twisted around and cushioned my fall with his own body. I landed hard on top of him.

…

Outside the car, Derek was chattering away to Jackson about something, showing him videos on his phone.

It looked like footage from the previous times I had helped out.

I cracked the window open slightly and caught Derek saying, "Sir, that's the situation. I wasn't trying to hide it from you. I just haven't been able to figure out any past connection between you and Ms. Rivera. Why would you trust her so completely when you're at your most vulnerable and defensive? I was planning to report this to you once I had more answers."

Eventually, Jackson opened the car door and climbed inside. I immediately pretended I had not been eavesdropping and buried myself in my phone.

Truth be told, over these past few months, I had racked my brain trying to remember if Jackson and I had ever crossed paths before.

I drew a complete blank. He was one of the city's golden boys, born into a prestigious family with a fortune worth hundreds of millions.