Olivia

Ryan's head whipped around, his eyes widening with shock. For a moment, time suspended itself. My lungs refused to work, and the room seemed to tilt sideways.

"Liv—" Ryan stammered, still connected to Sophia. "This isn't—"

"What it looks like?" I finished, my voice surprisingly steady despite the earthquake happening inside me. "Because it looks like you're fucking my friend on her birthday while I wait downstairs for a drink that's never coming."

Sophia turned her head, meeting my gaze without a hint of shame. She didn't even bother to adjust her dress; she just rested her elbows on the dresser and sighed like I'd interrupted a business meeting.

"Oh, Olivia," she said, her voice dripping with condescension. "Did you think a man like Ryan would be satisfied with just you?"

Ryan finally pulled away from her, fumbling to pull up his pants. "Baby, please, this is just a... a thing. It doesn't mean anything."

"A thing?" I repeated, heat rising to my face. "How long has this 'thing' been happening?"

Before either could answer, I heard footsteps behind me.

"Liv? Did you find—" Emilia's voice cut off as she appeared at my side, taking in the scene. "Holy fucking shit."

Ryan's face paled further. "This isn't what—"

"If you say 'this isn't what it looks like' one more time, I swear to God I will castrate you with my bare hands," Emilia snapped, her arm wrapping protectively around my shoulders.

Sophia straightened up, finally adjusting her dress with leisurely movements. She tossed her hair back and had the audacity to smirk. "Ryan and I have an understanding. It's just sex. Great sex, but still just sex."

"An understanding?" I laughed, the sound brittle and foreign to my ears. "And when exactly were you planning to include me in this understanding? After you gave me chlamydia, or before?"

"Don't be dramatic," Ryan said, tucking in his shirt. "We've been careful."

"Oh, careful! Well, that makes it all better then!" I threw my hands up. "You've been carefully fucking my friend behind my back. Such consideration!"

Sophia leaned against the dresser, crossing her arms. "We're all adults here. Monogamy is so... limiting, don't you think?"

Emilia stepped forward. "The only thing limiting around here is your moral compass, you backstabbing bitch."

"Watch it," Sophia warned, her eyes narrowing.

"Or what? You'll sleep with my boyfriend too? Get in line." Emilia turned to Ryan. "And you. You pathetic excuse for a man. Two years? Two fucking years of her life wasted on you?"

Ryan finally managed to buckle his belt. "Liv, baby, please. We can talk about this. It's just physical. It doesn't change how I feel about you."

"You feel so much for me that you bought me this dress." I gestured to my outfit. "So, I could be downstairs putting on a show for your friends while you're up here with your dick in Sophia?"

"The dress looks amazing on you," he offered weakly.

I stared at him in disbelief. "That's what you're going with right now? Fashion compliments?"

"I'm just saying—"

"No, I'm done listening to what you're 'just saying.'" I turned to leave, then spun back. "Two years, Ryan. Two years of me rearranging my schedule for you and believing every word out of your mouth. Was any of it real?"

He took a step toward me. "Of course, it was real. I love you, Liv."

"Spare me," I spat. "If this is your version of love, I want nothing to do with it."

Sophia sighed dramatically. "Can we wrap this up? I have guests downstairs."

"You have one less now," I said, turning away. "Enjoy your birthday present. You two deserve each other."

Emilia shot them both a final glare before following me out. We marched down the hallway, my legs somehow carrying me forward despite feeling like they might collapse.

"I've got you," Emilia whispered, her arm still around me as we descended the stairs.

The party continued below us, oblivious to the implosion that had just occurred upstairs. The music seemed too loud now, the laughter too jarring.

We pushed through the crowd toward the front door. Someone called my name, but I kept moving, my eyes fixed on the exit.

The cool night air hit my face as we stepped outside, and only then did I realize I was shaking.

We made it to the sidewalk when I heard the front door open behind us. I refused to look back.

"Olivia!" Ryan called out. "Wait!"

Emilia turned, positioning herself between us like a shield. "Go back to your birthday girl, asshole."

"This is between me and Liv," he insisted but made no move to follow us.

"There is no 'me and Liv' anymore," I called back, still walking. "We're done."

His response was lost as we rounded the corner, the sounds of the party fading behind us.

Once out of sight, my composure crumbled. I stopped walking, my breath coming in gasps.

"I can't believe…I can't…" I pressed my hand to my mouth.

"I know, honey. I know." Emilia pulled me into a hug. "Let it out."

"Two years," I whispered against her shoulder. "Two fucking years."

She stroked my hair. "I'm so sorry, Liv."

I pulled back, wiping angrily at my eyes. "Did you know? About them?"

Emilia hesitated. "Not for sure. But I had my suspicions."

"What? Why didn't you say anything?"

She sighed, fishing her phone from her purse. "I saw them at Barton's Café last month. They said they'd run into each other, but it seemed... off. The way they were sitting, the way he touched her arm. I didn't want to say anything without proof. I didn't want to hurt you if I was wrong."

"Well, now we have proof," I said bitterly.

"Let me call us a cab," Emilia said, tapping her phone. "My car's not here. Jake dropped me off."

I hugged myself against the chill, suddenly aware of how exposed I felt in the dress Ryan had chosen.

"No cabs available. Let's walk a bit. I'll keep trying for a ride and call Jake. Maybe he can pick us up."

"Fine by me." I just wanted to get as far away from Sophia's house as possible. "I'd walk to Mexico now if it meant never seeing Ryan again."

We started down the sidewalk, my heels clicking against the concrete. The neighborhood was upscale, with sprawling houses set back from the road, but the street itself was poorly lit.

The rumble of an engine cut her off as a convertible slowed beside us. Four guys crowded inside, the stench of alcohol wafting our way. The driver leaned over, his eyes crawling over my body before settling on my chest.

"Hey, babes, want a ride?" He grinned, revealing a gold tooth. "We got plenty of room on our laps."

His friends burst into laughter. The one in the passenger seat raised a bottle. "We're celebrating! Don't you wanna celebrate with us?"

"Fuck off," Emilia snapped, pulling me closer.

"Ooh, feisty!" The driver killed the engine. "I like feisty."

One guy, thick-necked with a tribal tattoo, vaulted over the door. He staggered toward us, pointing at Emilia.

"You got a mouth on you, blondie. Let's see what else it can do."

Before I could react, he lunged forward and grabbed Emilia by her hair, yanking her head back. She screamed, clawing at his arm.

"Let her go!" I shouted, my marketing executive persona vanishing as pure rage took over. I swung my purse, connecting with his temple.

He stumbled but kept his grip on Emilia's hair. "Your friend wants to play rough, huh?" He leered at me, eyes fixed on my chest. "Nice tits. Bet they bounce real good."

Olivia

My fist throbbed from connecting with the guy's head, but it hadn't done enough. Emilia whimpered as he yanked her hair harder, forcing her head back at an unnatural angle.

"Let her go, you piece of shit!" I hissed, fear and fury colliding in my chest.

"Or what?" He laughed, his breath reeking of whiskey. "You gonna hit me with your little purse again?"

The other men from the car were climbing out now, their movements predatory as they circled around us. The driver, with his gold tooth catching the dim streetlight, stepped toward me.

"C'mon baby, we just wanna have some fun." His eyes never left my chest. "You're dressed like you want attention. We're just giving you what you want."

"I want you to let my friend go and fuck off back to whatever sewer you crawled out of," I spat, backing away until I felt a tree behind me.

"Ooh, she's got a mouth on her too," said another shorter but broad-shouldered guy wearing a baseball cap. "I like that. Makes it more fun when they fight a little."

The driver reached for me, his fingers grazing my arm. I slapped his hand away.

"Don't touch me!"

"Playing hard to get?" He moved closer, pinning me against the tree. "That's cute."

Emilia was still struggling against Tribal Tattoo's grip. "Liv, run! Just run!"

"I'm not leaving you," I said, looking desperately around for anything I could use as a weapon.

The driver pressed his body against mine; one hand braced on the tree beside my head. "Your friend's not going anywhere, and neither are you." His other hand reached for my breast. "Let's see if these feel as good as they look."

I brought my knee up hard, aiming for his groin, but he twisted away at the last second. My knee glanced off his thigh.

"Feisty bitch!" He grabbed my wrist, squeezing until I gasped in pain.

Headlights suddenly illuminated the scene as another car screeched to a halt beside us. The engine cut off, and the driver's door opened.

"Is there a problem here?" A deep voice cut through the night.

A tall figure emerged from the shadows into the spill of a distant streetlight. Broad-shouldered and imposing in what looked like an expensive suit, he moved with a quiet confidence that commanded attention.

"Mind your own business, man," Gold Tooth snarled, but I noticed he'd loosened his grip on my wrist.

The newcomer stepped closer, and I caught my breath. Even in the dim light, I recognized him immediately. Alexander Carter. My boss's boss's boss. The CEO of Carter Enterprises, where I'd been working as a junior marketing executive for the past eight months.

"I believe these ladies were telling you to leave them alone," he said, his voice calm but edged with steel. "I suggest you listen."

Gold Tooth sneered. "What are you gonna do about it? There's four of us and one of you."

Alexander didn't even blink. "True. But I've already called the police, and they're on their way. I'm sure they'd be interested to know about four drunk men assaulting two women on a public street."

Tribal Tattoo finally released Emilia's hair, shoving her forward. "Whatever, man. These bitches ain't worth the trouble."

Emilia stumbled toward me, and I caught her, pulling her close.

"You okay?" I whispered.

She nodded, rubbing her scalp. "Bastard nearly ripped my hair out."

Gold Tooth took a step toward Carter, puffing out his chest. "You think you're some kind of hero? Rich boy in his fancy car?"

Alexander simply stared him down, not moving an inch. "I think I'm someone who doesn't want to see two women harassed by drunken idiots. Now, you can leave on your own, or you can wait for the police. Your choice."

For a tense moment, I thought Gold Tooth might throw a punch. Instead, he spat on the ground near Alexander's polished shoes.

"Let's go," he muttered to his friends. "These sluts aren't worth jail time."

They piled back into their convertible, engine roaring to life. Gold Tooth revved it aggressively before peeling away, tires screeching.

Alexander turned to us. "Are you both all right?"

Up close, he was even more intimidating than he was at company events. Tall, with sharp features and piercing gray eyes, he had the kind of face that belonged in business magazines, where it often appeared. Despite the late hour, his dark hair was neatly styled, not a strand out of place.

"We're okay," I managed, suddenly conscious of my appearance: disheveled hair, makeup probably smeared from crying earlier, and this ridiculous dress that now felt like a terrible mistake. "Thank you for stopping."

"Do you need a ride somewhere?" he asked, his eyes briefly dropping to my chest before snapping back to my face.

"Our cab canceled," Emilia said, still rubbing her scalp. "And my boyfriend's not answering his phone."

Alexander gestured to his car, a sleek black car. "I'm happy to drive you both home."

I hesitated. This was Alexander Carter, the man who signed my paychecks and whose name was on the building where I worked. The man was known for his ruthless business tactics and cold demeanor. The last thing I needed was for him to realize I was one of his employees, especially looking like this.

"That's very kind," I said carefully, "but we don't want to impose."

"It's no imposition," he replied. "I'd rather not leave you out here after what just happened."

Emilia looked at me with raised eyebrows, silently communicating: "Are you crazy? Free ride in a sleek car with a hot, rich guy? Say yes!"

"If you're sure it's not too much trouble," I relented.

"Not at all." He opened the backseat door. "Please."

The car's interior was all black leather and gleaming surfaces. It smelled of expensive cologne and a new car, a heady combination that made my head spin—or maybe that was the adrenaline crash.

"I'm Alexander Carter," he said as he slid behind the wheel.

"Olivia," I replied, deliberately omitting my last name. "And this is Emilia."

"Pleasure to meet you both, despite the circumstances." He started the engine, which purred to life. "Where am I taking you?"

Emilia gave him her address first, and then I gave him mine.

"Rough night?" he asked as we pulled away from the curb.

Emilia snorted. "You could say that. We were at a birthday party where Liv caught her boyfriend banging the birthday girl."

"Emilia!" I hissed, mortified.

Alexander's eyes flicked to me in the rearview mirror. "I see. I'm sorry to hear that."

"It's fine," I mumbled, wishing I could disappear into the leather seat.

"It's not fine," Emilia insisted. "Ryan is a cheating scumbag who deserves to have his dick fall off."

A small smile tugged at the corner of Alexander's mouth. "I take it Ryan is the ex-boyfriend?"

"As of about a few minutes ago, yes," I confirmed, wondering why I was discussing my love life with my CEO.

"Well, for what it's worth," he said, his eyes meeting mine briefly in the mirror again, "he sounds like an idiot."

Olivia

The car fell silent as we drove through the streets of Los Angeles, the city lights blurring past the windows. I studied Alexander's profile, the strong jaw, and straight nose, wondering why he'd stopped to help us. Everything I'd heard about him at work painted him as cold, distant, focused only on the bottom line.

We reached Emilia's apartment building first. Alexander pulled up to the curb, the engine purring quietly as he shifted into park.

"This is me," Emilia announced, gathering her purse. She leaned over to hug me, using the moment to whisper in my ear. "Holy fuck, Liv. He's hot as balls. If he wants to bang you senseless tonight, you better fucking do it. The best way to get over Ryan is to get under the CEO. Shit, those hands look like they know what they're doing."

I pulled back, shooting her a death glare that could have melted steel.

"What?" she mouthed innocently before turning to Alexander. "Thanks for the ride, knight in shining Armani. You're a lifesaver."

"It was no trouble," he replied politely.

Emilia opened the door, then paused to give me one last meaningful look. "Call me tomorrow with ALL the details." She waggled her eyebrows suggestively.

"Goodbye, Emilia," I said firmly, my cheeks burning.

She blew me a kiss and slammed the door, sauntering toward her building with a little extra sway in her hips, no doubt for Alexander's benefit.

As we pulled away, I sank deeper into the leather seat, mortified. "I'm so sorry about her. She has no filter."

Alexander's eyes met mine in the rearview mirror. "No need to apologize. She seems like a good friend."

"The best," I admitted. "Even if she occasionally makes me want to strangle her."

His lips quirked upward, almost a smile but not quite. "Those are often the best kinds of friends."

We lapsed into silence as he navigated through the streets of Los Angeles. The city lights streamed past the windows, creating a kaleidoscope effect that matched my swirling thoughts. I caught Alexander glancing at me in the mirror a few times, his expression unreadable.

"Left at the next light," I directed as we approached my neighborhood.

He nodded, making the turn smoothly.

"Here we are," he announced, pulling up to my apartment building. It wasn't fancy by LA standards but clean and in a decent area. I could just barely afford it on my junior executive salary.

He turned off the engine and, to my surprise, got out to open my door. His hand extended to help me out, warm and solid as I took it. The contact sent an unexpected jolt up my arm.

"Thank you again," I said, reluctantly letting go of his hand. "For everything tonight."

Alexander studied me for a moment, his gray eyes intense. "I hope you're able to move past what happened tonight. Your boyfriend, or rather your ex-boyfriend, clearly didn't appreciate what he had."

The unexpected kindness in his voice made my throat tighten. "I'll be fine," I managed.

"I'm sure you will," he agreed. "Someone like you won't stay single for long unless you want to."

I wasn't sure how to respond to that. Was Alexander Carter, CEO of Carter Enterprises, flirting with me? No, that was ridiculous. He was just being polite.

"Goodnight, Olivia," he said, stepping back toward his car.

"Goodnight, Alexander. And thank you for the ride."

He nodded once, then slid back into his car. I watched as he drove away, his taillights disappearing around the corner before I turned and entered my building.

The elevator ride to my fourth-floor apartment felt endless. My keys jangled in my shaking hands as I unlocked my door, stepping into the darkness of my living room. I flipped on the light, tossed my purse on the counter, and kicked off my heels.

The silence of my apartment pressed in around me. Just hours ago, I'd been getting ready for what I thought would be a normal night out with my boyfriend. Now, everything had changed.

I peeled off the black cocktail dress and threw it in the trash. Never again would I wear something just because a man told me it looked good on me.

In my bathroom, I scrubbed off my makeup. The woman in the mirror looked tired, her eyes red-rimmed but clear.

I pulled on an oversized t-shirt and fell onto my bed, staring at the ceiling. My phone buzzed on the nightstand, probably Ryan finally realizing what he'd lost. I ignored it.

Why had he done it? Two years together, and he throws it all away for Sophia? Had he been sleeping with her all along? The signs had been there: the late nights at work, the sudden business trips, the way his phone was always face-down when I was around.

I'd trusted him completely. What a fool I'd been.

My phone buzzed again. This time, I glanced at it. Emilia.

"You home safe? Did Mr. CEO make a move? Please say yes."

I texted back: "Yes, I'm home. No, he didn't. Go to sleep."

Her response was immediate: "Boring! But seriously, you okay?"

"I will be," I replied and realized I meant it.

I tossed my phone onto the nightstand and stared at the ceiling, my mind racing despite my exhaustion. Sleep seemed impossible. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Ryan thrusting into Sophia, her smug face, his pathetic excuses.

"Fuck," I whispered to the empty room. "Two years down the drain."

I rolled over, burying my face in my pillow. Two years of holidays, family gatherings, inside jokes—all tainted now. But something else kept intruding on my thoughts: Alexander Carter's piercing gray eyes in the rearview mirror.

Alexander Carter. My CEO. The man I'd just met while looking like a complete disaster.

"He probably won't even remember me tomorrow," I muttered, flipping onto my back again. "Why would he? He's Alexander fucking Carter."

The ceiling offered no answers. I'd worked at Carter Enterprises for eight months and never once spoken to him. I'd seen him striding through the lobby, standing at podiums during company-wide meetings, his face on the company website and annual reports. Always distant. Always untouchable.

And now he'd seen me at my absolute worst, heartbroken in a slutty dress.

"Great first impression, Olivia. Really professional."

I snorted at my own sarcasm. It was as if Alexander Carter would ever connect the disheveled woman he'd rescued with Olivia Morgan, a junior marketing executive. Our worlds didn't intersect. He inhabited the executive floor with its panoramic views of Los Angeles. At the same time, I worked in my cubicle fifteen floors below, crafting social media campaigns for products I could barely afford.

I pulled the covers over my head, trying to force sleep to come. But my brain had other ideas, conjuring an image of running into Alexander in the office elevator. Would he recognize me? Would I have the courage to thank him again? Would he look at me with those intense gray eyes and see past the professional facade to the woman he'd rescued?

"As if," I mumbled into my pillow. "He probably rescues women from creeps every weekend. It's probably a rich guy's hobby."

But what if he did remember me? What if our paths crossed in the office cafeteria or during a presentation? What would I say?