The handsome stranger

Chapter 2

BIANCA’S POV

When I turned to glance at the person who was holding me and lying that I was with him, my breath caught in my throat as I thought an angel was sent from above to save me – He stood tall and straight like a towering spruce with manly locks of pitch-black hair curled against the V of his open silk vintage shirt and striking grey eyes like silver lightning that framed his handsome square face.

“You don’t get to keep all the chicks in the world you know,” the drunkard whose name was Ben snarled at him in frustration.

“I don’t,” the handsome stranger holding me replied smugly, sneering at him. “Only the pretty ones who want nothing to do with you. She’s with me so, stay-the fuck-away-from-her,” he spelled out in his face.

Ben, the drunk guy, snarled the more and glared at him, creating a tense atmosphere. They looked ready to attack each other, and being caught in the middle made me a bit scared. It appeared they had a long-standing grudge like they were sworn enemies.

As Ben was leaving, his angry expression turned into a sly smirk as if he had the perfect plan to exert his revenge on the handsome stranger. He raised his middle finger and muttered a spiteful “Fuck you” before disappearing into the neon lights.

But it didn’t bother the handsome stranger much. He chuckled scornfully and shrugged it off casually as if he didn’t even hear what was said to him.

His grip loosened on me as he lowered to pick up my purse which I most probably forgot still existed.

“Here you go,” he handed it to me and then, put his hand up to push the wet strand of creamy hair that fell on his face – a perfect pose for a swimwear shoot.

Is it okay for a guy to have really long, sleek hair?

“Thank…thank you for coming to my rescue,” I stuttered. It was so fucking hard to remain coherent with him so close and staring at me. If not for him, who knew what that drunkard would have done to me in this state?

“I’m glad I could help. It’s nothing. That guy is just Capital jerk who likes taking…”

He didn’t finish when my head suddenly spun out of control and the ground followed suit. The blur in my vision doubled, almost tripling as I staggered in my heels. I was about to crash into the glass cups and bottles on the countertop when his pair of strong hands came to my rescue again.

“You’re drunk,” he said as a wave of his warm minty breath soothingly fanned against my face. “You should call your boyfriend to take you home now. Where is your phone let me help you text him?”

“Boyfriend.” I couldn’t help but scoff at the idea. The last time I had a boyfriend, he rejected me, shattered my trust, and treated me like I was some fragile, worthless item. The last thing I wanted was another boyfriend or a future husband who might end up doing the same to me.

“Thanks for helping me but I don’t have a boyfriend and I don’t want to go home,” I said as I tried to steady myself, wincing as I gently rubbed my forehead.

Why did I have to drink so much?! I’m pretty sure I’ll wake up with a nasty hangover tomorrow morning.

That took him by surprise. I could tell because of how his beautiful silver-grey eyes widened in disbelief.

“Who are you? Do you know who I am?” I asked as I stood in a wobbly posture, though his hands were still slightly supporting me as I could fall at any minute.

The way he saved me from that drunkard made me wonder if he might be a former high school classmate I can’t recall. But there’s no way this hunk of a guy went to the same high school without me knowing. Maybe he’s seen me somewhere before.

“You don’t know who I am?” He asked, cocking a fraction of his thick eyebrow as if he was expecting me to know.

I shook my head. Right then, the bartender showed up, catching our attention. His hair was slicked back, and he sported a neatly pressed white shirt that made him look more like a posh palace butler than a club bartender.

“Is everything okay, sir?” he asked, looking more concerned than suspicious.

“Yes. She’s drunk and I was just about taking her home. You have nothing to worry about,” he said to the bartender who shrugged and returned to his duties. I was surprised he didn’t inquire more or try to call security.

“You know what?” he said, his hands gently moving from my waist to my wrist, making sure I didn’t stumble. “I’ll take you to a motel so you can rest and sober up. Tomorrow morning, you can figure out whether you want to head home or crash at a friend’s place.”

I wanted to refuse, thinking it wasn’t needed. But then I had a lightbulb moment – if my future husband who was a famous playboy can be with other girls, why can’t I spend the night with someone like this guy in front of me? Maybe if he discovers we’re alike, he’ll reconsider marrying me.

What a genius drunk I was!

“Yes… sure,” I drawled, my gaze wandering over his attractive physique, which was already making me squirm in my panties. “I’d love for you to take me to a motel.”

He nodded and gestured, guiding me to the exit. I pretended to stagger a bit, wanting him to hold onto my waist and curves more tightly, which he did. I enjoyed the firmness of his body and the soft, clean scent of soap and pine emanating from him.

Tonight, I’ll fuck this man and I'll have no regrets doing it.