OnE NIGHT STAND.

Mia blinked against the soft morning light filtering through the curtains, her head pounding with the dull ache of too much alcohol and too little sleep. Her body was warm-too warm. The scent of cologne and something unmistakably masculine clung to the sheets.

Her pulse stuttered.

There was someone beside her.

Her breath hitched as she turned her head, and her stomach dropped.

A man lay sprawled across the other half of the bed, his bare chest rising and falling in steady, deep breaths. Tousled dark hair fell across his forehead, his chiseled jawline dusted with morning stubble. One strong arm rested against the sheets, the other tucked under the pillow.

Mia sat up so fast the sheet slipped from her body, exposing bare skin.

Oh. My. God.

This wasn't her apartment.

This wasn't her bed.

And she definitely didn't remember bringing a man home last night.

Think, Mia. Think.

Flashes of the previous night slammed into her mind-shots lined up at the bar, the pulsating bass of the music, the heat of someone's touch on her waist. Laughter. Lips brushing against hers.

Then darkness.

A wave of panic surged through her.

What the hell did I do?

She yanked the sheet around her body and scrambled off the bed, her bare feet hitting the cold floor. Her heart pounded as she scanned the room.

A sleek hotel suite. A suit jacket draped over a chair. A half-finished glass of whiskey on the nightstand. A silver Rolex catching the morning light.

Her stomach flipped.

Whoever he was, he wasn't some random drunk.

He was rich.

And still very much asleep.

Mia's fingers dug into the sheet wrapped around her as she tried to breathe. This wasn't her. She didn't do one-night stands. She didn't wake up in strange beds with strange men.

She needed to get out. Now.

Her dress from last night was draped over the back of the chair, her heels kicked carelessly near the door. She spotted her purse on the nightstand and lunged for it, gripping it tight as she turned toward the exit.

Then-

A voice. Deep. Rough. Laced with sleep.

"Running away already?"

Mia froze.

Slowly, she turned.

The man was awake now, propped up on one elbow, watching her with piercing blue eyes. He looked dangerous like this-sleep-tousled, shirtless, and too damn good-looking.

Mia swallowed hard. "I-uh-"

A slow, knowing smirk curled his lips. "Not even a good morning?"

Her face flamed.

She tightened her grip on the sheet. "Look, I don't... I don't usually do this."

His smirk deepened. "Is that supposed to make me feel better or worse?"

Mia scowled. "I don't even know your name."

He leaned back against the pillows, completely unbothered. "Ethan."

Her heart skipped.

Ethan.

The name sounded familiar.

She wracked her brain, but before she could place it, Ethan ran a hand through his hair and stretched, his muscles shifting beneath his skin.

Mia jerked her gaze away.

Nope. Not looking at that.

"Right. Well... this was fun," she said, forcing a casual tone. "But I should go."

Ethan arched a brow. "No breakfast? No awkward morning-after conversation?"

Mia shot him a look. "I think we covered the awkward part."

To her frustration, Ethan only grinned. "Fair enough."

She turned for the door, heart racing. But before she could take another step-

"Mia."

Her breath hitched.

She turned, her pulse skittering. "How do you know my name?"

Ethan watched her, those sharp blue eyes assessing. Too knowing.

Then, he smirked. "You told me last night."

Mia hesitated.

Had she?

Her memory was still fuzzy. But something about the way he said it sent a shiver down her spine.

Ethan swung his legs over the edge of the bed, standing in one smooth, effortless motion. He was tall. Broad shoulders. A body that looked like it had been carved from sin.

Mia took a step back.

"Relax," he murmured. "I don't bite."

She wasn't so sure.

Her fingers tightened on her purse. "Well, thanks for... whatever happened last night."

Ethan's gaze didn't waver. "You don't remember, do you?"

Mia's throat went dry. "I-"

He took a slow step toward her, then another.

Mia's pulse skyrocketed.

"I remember you," Ethan said, his voice lower now, more intense. "I remember the way you looked at me across the bar. I remember the way you pulled me in. And I remember," he paused, gaze darkening, "how much you wanted to forget something."

Mia stopped breathing.

Because he was right.

She had been running from something last night.

But she wasn't about to tell him that.

Ethan watched her for a long moment. Then, to her relief, he stepped back. "I'll let you go."

Mia nodded quickly. "Thanks."

She turned toward the door, hand on the handle.

"But Mia."

Her stomach knotted.

She turned back, and Ethan's gaze locked onto hers.

"This isn't over."

A chill ran down her spine. "Excuse me?"

Ethan smirked, but there was something dangerous in his expression now. "You'll see me again."

Mia shook her head. "I doubt that."

Ethan chuckled. "You don't believe in fate?"

Mia scoffed. "No. I believe in bad decisions. And last night was one of them."

Ethan's smirk didn't falter. "We'll see."

Mia didn't wait for him to say anything else. She yanked the door open and stepped into the hallway, her breath coming too fast.

She needed to get out of here. Away from him. Away from whatever last night had been.

But as she rushed toward the elevator, one thought refused to leave her mind.

Why did it feel like Ethan already knew her?

And why did she have the sinking feeling...

That he was right?

This wasn't over.