Chapter 299: Familiar stranger
I pulled into the first place I knew would serve me without questions... a dark, high-end lounge tucked between two office towers. It was quiet. Low lighting, low music. The kind of place where people came to disappear.
I sat at the bar and ordered everything. Neat.
The first glass barely hit the wood before I finished it.
The second burned.
The third went down easier.
I wasn’t pacing myself. Wasn’t here for the taste.
This wasn’t social drinking.
It was tearing the bandage off and pouring the alcohol straight into the wound.
The bartender gave me that cautious look you give someone you’re not sure will walk out of here upright.
I ignored it. Signaled for another.
My head was already buzzing. My chest was still hollow.
I thought about Aria’s mouth on his. The way she used to look at me. The way she didn’t anymore.
Soon the ache had dulled just enough for me to breathe without feeling like I was bleeding out from the inside.
After some time, I wasn’t even sure I wanted it to stop hurting.
The glass in front of me was empty again.
Or maybe it had been for a while.
The world had slowed into this thick, syrupy blur... warm, muffled, and tilting just slightly every time I moved my head. Ten glasses in, maybe more. I’d stopped counting after the fifth.
A shape drifted Into the edge of my vision.
Feminine. Hesitant.
She was moving toward me.
I tried to focus, but my eyes kept betraying me... sliding out of focus, pulling her features apart until they were just colors and shadows.
Dark fabric. Slim frame.
Closer now.
And for a moment... God...
I thought it was her.
Aria.
My chest went tight before my brain caught up.
I squinted. Tried to drag her face into something sharp and familiar.
But the hair was wrong. Blonde.
And the scent wasn’t hers.
Not that faint, grounding note of her perfume I could pick out of a crowd in a heartbeat.
I dropped my eyes back to my drink. I didn’t care who she was.
But she didn’t walk away.
Her voice came low, cautious. "Mr Roman?"
I didn’t look up.
"Sir, it’s me," she said again, softer.
The words slid right past me, barely snagging.
I forced my head up. "Who... the hell are you?"
She blinked, like she wasn’t sure if I was serious. "Sarah. Aria’s best friend."
I stared at her for a long second, but nothing stuck. Her name didn’t land anywhere solid. The connection bounced off the fog in my head and fell straight into nothing.
She tilted her head, studying me like she wasn’t sure if I was fucking with her or just that far gone.
"We’ve met before," she said carefully. "I work at XE... marketing division."
I dragged my gaze up to hers again. The words tumbled around in my head, finding just enough footing to connect. Yeah. I remembered her. Meetings. Elevator small talk. Her desk somewhere near the glass wall in the east wing.
It didn’t matter.
Because she wasn’t Aria.
And right now, anything that tethered me back to her... her name, her face, her ghost... hurt more than I could stand.
I went back to my glass. The whiskey burned less now.
Sarah’s brows pulled together, worry settling in. She glanced at the lineup of empty tumblers in front of me, then back at my face.
"Jesus, sir... how long have you been here?"
I shrugged. Time was a useless measure tonight.
She let out a breath, then slid into the seat beside me without asking.
I didn’t tell her to leave.
Maybe because I didn’t care enough to.
Her voice came quieter this time, like she was afraid of the answer.
"Is this... because of Aria?"
I stilled.
The question lodged somewhere between my ribs, sharp enough to cut through some of the haze.
I thought about the rooftop. The video. Sylas’ hands on her. Her mouth on his.
How fast she’d moved on.
How easy it had been for her to give someone else what she wouldn’t give me.
The burn in my chest had nothing to do with the alcohol anymore.
I set the glass down harder than I meant to.
"Maybe," I muttered, my tone flat, cold enough to make her hesitate.
Sarah’s lips parted, like she was about to drop it, but then her brows pinched together.
"I... I thought you and Aria were..." She trailed off, searching my face. "...together."
I felt my jaw tighten.
She didn’t stop there. "So why are you here... sitting alone... drowning yourself like this?"
I looked away, staring into the dim reflection in the back bar mirror. The words she’d chosen... alone, drowning... made my chest tighten in that slow, ugly way.
Her voice softened. "Did something happen between you two?"
My hand curled around the glass.
The rooftop burned in my head all over again... the way she kissed him, how she let him touch her like that.
"You could say that," I said. My tone was sharper now, the edges starting to show.
Sarah frowned, confusion flickering across her face. "Sir... I don’t mean to overstep but... Aria doesn’t seem like the kind of person to just... "
"Don’t," I cut in, my voice low. "Don’t finish that sentence."
Her mouth shut, but she didn’t look away. She was watching me too closely, and I hated that she might be reading all the shit I was trying to keep locked behind my eyes.
I tipped the whiskey back, draining what was left, letting the burn hit hard. And then I reached for the next.
Sarah’s hand darted out, stopping mine halfway. "Sir, you’ve been drinking all night, haven’t you?"
I didn’t answer. I just stared at her, fingers tightening on the glass.
"Mr. Roman," she said softly, respectfully, "please."
I ignored her.
That’s when she reached forward, collected the glass from my hand, and set it far enough down the bar that I’d have to make a scene to get it. She even slid the other empties out of reach.
Then she stood.
"Come on," she said firmly. "We should leave here."
"I’m not going anywhere," I said, my voice low, deliberate. My elbows stayed planted on the bar, my weight heavy against it. "Go home, Sarah."
She didn’t move.
Instead, she stepped closer, lowering her voice. "Sir... you can’t stay here like this. It’s past two. You’ve had more than enough. Let me take you home."
I gave a humorless laugh, one that didn’t even sound like mine. "Home? I don’t have one right now."
Her expression faltered, but she didn’t back down. "Then at least somewhere safe. Please."
I shook my head and reached for another drink... only for her to catch my wrist this time. She was smaller, but her grip was stubborn.
"You’re going to hate yourself in the morning if you keep going like this."
"Already do," I muttered, yanking lightly, but she didn’t let go.
Her other hand slipped under my arm, testing if she could get me to stand. I stayed rooted to the stool, but she wasn’t giving up... leaning in, using her body weight, coaxing, pulling.
"Sarah... "
"Sir, please," she cut in, firm but still respectful. "You can fire me tomorrow if you want, but right now, you’re coming with me."
Somewhere between my exhaustion and the alcohol dragging me under, my resistance cracked. My legs felt heavier than concrete, but I finally let her tug me off the stool.
The floor tilted under my feet. She caught my arm quickly, tucking herself against my side to keep me steady as we headed toward the exit.
I didn’t even remember passing the door. Just the cold night air hitting my face like a slap.