"Sorry man, I didn't realise." The stranger surrenders without a fight, taking multiple steps away from me, his smug expression replaced by one of fear.

I don't bother turning around. I can't. I simply refuse to.

Maybe if I don't acknowledge Milo, he won't come any closer.

"Here you go." The bartender places the shot down in front of me wearily, looking over my shoulder. No doubt he's being stared down by Milo too.

"Thanks," I murmur, swallowing the putrid poison without hesitation.

"Are you trying to give yourself alcohol poisoning?" Milo asks dryly.

The huskiness in his voice mixed with the large amount of alcohol I've consumed is a lethal combination. I ignore the pit in my stomach.

"Maybe," I mutter, still without looking at him. "Another please," I tell the bartender.

Before he can pour the shot, Milo speaks on my behalf. "Serve her another drink and you won't have a job."

The bartender nods multiple times before backing away from me apologetically.

Coward.

I huff, finally turning to face the man at my side. "Are you kidding me?"

And there he is. Milo DeLuca. Looking more attractive than I remember. The white suit shirt he's wearing is rolled to his elbows, tanned skin and tattoos on glorious display right before my very drunken eyes.

He is dangerous. This is dangerous.

He assesses me with that dark, wanting gaze of his, running his eyes down my bare legs. "What the hell are you doing? Do you know how vulnerable you are right now?"

I shiver, rolling my eyes to mask how effective that simple gesture is on me.

"I'm fine," I tell him in a 'duh' tone. I am truly somewhat doubtful, however.

He hums lowly, clearly not believing me for even a second.

The sensual lights in the club fall around us, outlining his face in dazzling, oh so perfect detail. He looks hot when he's pissed off. His jawline is clenched and defined, body tense yet inviting.

I don't think it's physically possible for me to be more attracted to him.

I'm going to blame the alcohol. The alcohol makes me confused, and so does his cologne, which smells of masculinity and power... and sex. Is that even a smell? Somehow it seems to be on him.

I'm well aware I'm just gawking at him without saying anything, but to be fair, he isn't saying anything either. He's just staring right back down at me.

The intensity of his gaze is like an addiction to me. It's electric, and yet I see a million painful secrets buried underneath the guarded expression he wears.

"Don't look at me like that," he warns, but his voice is tamer than usual. Softer.

"Like what?" I ask innocently, feeling my stomach tighten when he leans towards me, lowering his lips to my ear.

"Like that," he rasps, lingering just long enough to weaken me at the knees before he pulls away again, returning to his ever so staunch self once more. "Who are you here with?"

"Who are you here with?" I counter, folding my arms across my chest. "What are you even doing here?"

He looks exasperated as he looks down at me, like a parent with a toddler.

The thought makes me giggle. I don't know why, but it's impossible to stop.

This doesn't seem to improve Milo's mood.

"I think I might be a tiny bit wasted," I admit aloud when I finally pull myself together, gesturing with my two fingers. "A teeny, tiny bit."

"Really?" Milo asks, tilting his head while looking down at me.

"Yes," I exclaim before examining his unimpressed expression. "Wait. Was that sarcasm? I'm detecting sarcasm, but it's very hard for me to tell right now."

"Where are your friends? I'm taking you home before you hurt yourself." He ignores my question, scolding me like a child instead.

"They're everywhere, I don't know." I shrug, looking up at him. "Do you want to dance?"

"No," he answers flatly, looking around, probably trying to find Art. Shit. Art!

"Woah, slowly," Milo warns when I rush to my feet, feeling the world spin around me as I do so.

Instinctively, his hands reach out to stabilise me, landing on my hips. The heat of his touch scorches through the thin material of my dress, sucking the remaining air from my lungs and sending a burning sensation across my body.

"I am too drunk for you to be this close to me," I murmur, pushing against the firmness of his chest. "Back away to a safe distance," I instruct.

"A safe distance?" he repeats, raising a perplexed brow. "Safe enough that you fall over?"

"Yes, falling over is better than the other alternative," I mutter, closing my eyes for a moment.

Did I just say that out loud?

I feel like I'm floating on air. I don't think I've ever drank this much since my twenty-first birthday. Milo doesn't say anything. He just looks down at me, a mixture of concern and something else I can't read in his eyes.

"Let me drive you home," he repeats, more firmly this time. He still keeps his distance.

"You're so brusque," I tell him, opening my eyes again. If possible, it feels like the alcohol in my system is only taking a stronger hold on me. "We should dance." I smile this time; Milo looks at me like I'm insane.

Maybe I am, who knows.

"Absolutely not," Milo scolds me once more, his frustration evident when I roll my eyes.

"One dance, and I will let you have the honour of driving me home," I offer.

Should I be dancing with him? Absolutely not. Do I want to? Yes, I really do.

My strong-willed subconscious has lost the battle. Alcohol has worn her down.

"Please?" I change tactics, tugging Milo's hand. His skin is rough and soft at the same time. He doesn't budge when I pull him towards the dance floor again. The man is made of steel.

"Milo," I plead in the sweetest tone I can muster.

"No," he answers again, as sternly as he did before, but he doesn't release my hand. Instead, he brings me towards him so we're only a few feet apart.

"Why?" I pout, looking up at him through my lashes.

"Because if you were sober, you would never ask me that," he says, analysing me like he always does. "Now, will you let me drive you home?"

"Why are you so determined to drive me home?" I poke his chest. It's rock solid. Wow. "You are so hard," I blurt out, realising how it sounds as soon as the slurred words leave my lips.

Whoops.

"Adele." Milo doesn't react. He just looks down at me and releases a sigh. "Let me drive you home, please."

"Please?" I grin up at him excitedly. "You said please."

"Are you always this irritating when you drink?" he asks pointedly.

"I don't know, I haven't been drunk in..." I raise three fingers. "This many years."

Milo doesn't respond for a moment; he just looks down at me in a way that makes my entire body feel as though it's on fire.

"Why do you want to take me home so badly? Should I be worried you want to kidnap me or something?" I question, unable to hide my smile. I don't think I've stopped smiling. How much alcohol have I had?

"If one more guy checks you out, I'll have to kill them," he answers, and I laugh. He's funny. "You can barely stand, and if you don't start drinking water, you're going to end up with alcohol poisoning. For once can you stop being stubborn and listen to me?"

He's hot when he's demanding. There's a mischievous look in his eyes, and secretly, I think he's enjoying this game. But I am truthfully getting tired, and my feet hurt from these new heels that I never broke in properly before wearing.

Should I let him drive me home? Vaguely, I remember wanting to stay away from him, but the alcohol in my system is making it hard to remember why that was.

"I need to tell my friends, or they'll worry," I slur, but Milo grabs my hand before I can walk through the crowds.

"Come," he orders as staunchly as always, walking ahead of me.

"Yes Sir," I mutter lowly, glaring at the broadness of his back. So bossy.

He leads the way through the crowds of people who all move out of his way without hesitating.

I was pushed and shoved trying to get through on my own, but Milo...well, Milo is stared at by everyone with looks of terror. Or lust, from most of the women here. Nobody dares to stand in his way.

"Art!" I call loudly when my eyes land on him. He's dancing on one of the tables, two drinks in his hand.

Milo looks bewildered as he watches my friend do a terrible twerking dance move, dropping to the floor.

Wow, Art really can't dance.

"Ellie, hi! Come dance with me!" Art screams, grinning. He catches sight of Milo, and his smile slips. "Milo—we're meant to be staying away from you."

"Adele, thank God. I called you twice." Jamie appears seconds later, assessing Milo, who looks right back at him in some kind of alpha male stare down.

"Jamie, this is Milo. He's going to drive me home," I explain.

Jamie doesn't look at me. Instead, his stare remains on the man at my side, who has become so rigid he barely looks like he's breathing. The look on his face is lethal.

"We can drive her home," Jamie informs Milo. If looks could kill, Jamie would have died a torturous death in a matter of seconds.

"No, no, don't make Art leave. He's having too much fun," I butt in. Why won't either of them look at me? "Milo is my..." I trail off, looking at his stoic form. What is he to me? "He's my work person. Well, technically I have only worked with him for two days and then Jordan got—"

"Yes, thank you Adele," Milo cuts me off abruptly before I can finish.

Arts climbs down from the table and stumbles into me as Jamie watches.

"Ellie, do you think this is smart?" he asks. "I don't want you to be mad at me in the morning for letting you do this."

"I could never be mad at you," I say, resting a hand on his shoulder. "I will be fine, I promise."

Art leans closer to my ear, voice dropping to a whisper. "He's dangerous, Ellie. You said so yourself."

A shiver runs through me, but I ignore it.

"I can be a grown up, you know," I declare. "Maybe not right now, but usually I am really good at it."

Art sighs heavily, stepping back from me. Next to Art, neither Jamie nor Milo says anything as they glare at each other. Milo looks as though he's trying to hold himself back, restraining himself.

I'm not sure why.

Jamie finally caves under Milo's threatening stare.

"Call us when you get home," he says, eyes locking with mine. I swear I see a wolfish look of victory cross Milo's face for a moment. "Promise?"

"Of course." I nod, smiling. "Don't worry, Milo is like my Uber driver."

A very sexy, dangerous Uber driver who I should not be getting involved with.

Unfortunately for the rational side of my brain, alcohol has dissolved the remainder of my self control.

I can't keep myself away from the devil any longer.