One-night stand with cheating fiancé's uncle

Isla Turner quickly saved her work and shut her laptop. She’d assumed Madison Walker was swamped with work, so without a second thought, she headed straight for the new club. It was their soft opening night, and the main hall hummed with electricity—top-tier bands, A-list celebrities crammed inside, and suddenly that billion-dollar investment felt like every penny worth it.

Isla never cared for all the noise and chaos, so she headed straight for the fifth floor. Up here, it was nothing like the rowdy vibe downstairs: classy furniture, dead quiet. She knocked politely and pushed into the private suite, only to stop short—this wasn’t Damari Evans and his group. It was Vicente Wood and his people.

The room was still buzzing, everyone yelling over each other, “Cheers! C’mon, one more round!” Vicente laughed, saying, “C’mon, Rhea can’t drink—she’s been under the weather…” His voice died the second his eyes landed on Isla in the doorway. In a heartbeat, every single person in the room was staring right at her.

The one who’d been leading the cheers was Jeremiah Woods, their old high school friend, and he’d been right there through every messy second of her and Vicente’s relationship. When he saw Isla, a flash of awkwardness crossed his face before he quickly recovered. “Oh, hey Isla, c’mon in, grab a seat.”

Isla could feel the room’s energy shift the second she’d walked in uninvited. She suddenly felt like an outsider crashing Vicente’s new life. It wasn’t just Vicente who’d changed—all of his people had too.

Vicente’s face flickered through a dozen emotions before he settled back into that familiar gentle smile he’d always worn. “Isla, you’re here. Let me introduce you, this is—” Isla kept her face blank. “I don’t care who she is. I got the wrong room.”

Jeremiah jumped in right away. “Oh, c’mon Isla, don’t get the wrong idea. We were just messing around, playing a game.”

The woman curled up against Vicente smiled and stepped toward Isla. “You’ve got to be Isla, right? Vic talks about you all the time. I’m so glad I finally got to meet you in person—you’re even prettier than he said. I’m Rhea Rodriguez, like the gem, y’know? R for Rhea, R for rock.”

“I broke up with Vicente. Whoever you are doesn’t matter to me. I’m here to pick someone up, so I’m leaving.”

“Isla, you’re misunderstanding. Vic and I aren’t what you think we are, we’re just—” Rhea reached for Isla’s hand. But Isla hated being touched, especially by the woman who’d broken up her relationship. She flinched back on instinct, and Rhea toppled straight to the floor.

Jeremiah cut in immediately, “Isla, that was totally unnecessary. She was just saying hi, and you pushed her? Did you forget she’s sick?”

Vicente didn’t say much. He just stood up and walked toward her. “Isla, don’t be mad. We were all just having fun.”

Isla didn’t even bother explaining. Before Vicente could get close enough to touch her, she wrenched the door open and bolted out. Right before the door clicked shut, she heard Rhea’s weak voice: “Vic, I don’t feel good…”

By the time she was out in the hallway, Isla could feel her whole body shaking. Her palms were slick with cold sweat. She’d barely eaten anything for dinner, and now her stomach rolled with nausea. The betrayal of Vicente, then even Jeremiah—her old friend—quietly taking Rhea’s side, it crashed over her all at once.

“You good?” A familiar male voice rumbled from behind her. Isla froze, then turned, her voice polite when she spoke. “I’m sorry, Mr. Evans. I got lost and wound up in B-8.”

From where she stood, Damari was all sharp lines in his crisp white dress shirt, no tie, the top two buttons undone. His suit jacket was slung over one arm, softening the usual stern, put-together vibe he carried. His gaze slid from her face straight to the bandage wrapped around her finger.

Before Isla could even say anything else, Damari had caught her hand and tugged it closer to get a better look. “How’d you get hurt?” he asked.

Her whole life, no one—not even her mom, not even Vicente when they were together—had ever noticed a tiny little cut like this. Rhea had grabbed that exact injured hand less than five minutes ago, and Vicente hadn’t said a word. But Damari had spotted this tiny detail immediately.

Isla tried to tug her hand back. “Just a little cut, I nicked myself by accident.”

Damari’s brow furrowed just a little. “The bandage is soaked through with blood.”

“It’s fine, it won’t mess up my driving. Can we go now?” she answered, desperate to get out of this place as fast as possible, and pulled her hand free of his grip.

Before she could step away, he draped his suit jacket over her shoulders, the weight of it warm. Isla blinked up at him, confused. “Mr. Evans, I can hold that for you.”

Damari held her gaze steady, no rush, no heat. “Your palms are all clammy with cold sweat. Figured you were probably chilly.”

Isla’s cheeks heated up. She’d jumped to the worst conclusion about why he’d touched her, and she was wrong. She turned to head for the elevator, but in the mirrored wall across from her, she spotted Vicente running down the hall after her.

The last thing she wanted was a screaming fight with her ex over another woman in front of her boss. On pure impulse, she grabbed the collar of Damari’s shirt and yanked him toward her. He stumbled forward, catching himself against the wall right next to her head.

Damari was caught completely off guard by her sudden move, frozen for a split second. But before he could even process what was happening, Isla’s soft arms wrapped around his waist, her voice a breathy whisper right against his ear: “Mr. Evans, can you please…”

She bit down hard on her lower lip, her voice shaking so bad it was barely audible. “Kiss me.”

Damari spotted Vicente’s white dress shirt moving closer down the hall, and he got it immediately, understood exactly what she needed. He reached up, pulled the hair clip from the back of her head, and let her chestnut waves spill down over her shoulders. His fingers tilted her chin up gentle, and he leaned down, and pressed a soft kiss right to her lips.