They stood in a shadowed corner of the nightclub, away from the pulsing lights and the roar of the crowd. Hannah pressed her back against the cool wall, her eyes defensive as she looked up at Oscar. He towered over her, his presence overwhelming.

The scent of expensive alcohol and a faint trail of tobacco clung to him. In her previous life, Hannah had found the smell of smoke repulsive. She used to pride herself on the fact that Charles was "clean"—a man without vices, away from gambling, drinking, and cigarettes.

Now, she realized the bitter truth: some people’s grossest behaviors start in their internal organs, hidden where no one can see.

Oscar didn't smell stinky to her. Instead, the tobacco mixed with his scent felt like a unique masculine hormone, primal and bewitching.

"Miss Cooper," Oscar’s husky voice broke the silence, seductive and dangerously low. "Did you stretch out your tongue?"

"Huh?" Hannah blinked, her mind momentarily blank. "What do you mean?"

"Tonight. When you and Charles kissed in the garden," Oscar said, his words measured and sharp. "Did you stretch out your tongue?"

Hannah felt a flush of awkwardness. He asked the question with such casual boldness that it made her heart skip a beat.

"I don’t want you to do that," Oscar continued before she could find her voice.

She opened her mouth to argue—to ask if he meant he didn't like the act itself or if he was simply jealous of Charles—but the words died in her throat. Suddenly, his lips were on hers.

Hannah’s muscles locked. She froze, her eyes wide with shock. This was the first time she had seen him this close. His eyes were closed, his long, lush eyelashes casting shadows on his flawless skin. For a moment, she remembered Susan’s joke about him being gay; if he was, she thought dizzily, he was surely the most beautiful man to ever walk the earth.

Initially, it was just a firm pressure—two sets of lips pressed tightly together. Then, with a sudden, hungry urgency, Oscar pried her teeth open.

The taste of alcohol flooded her senses. To her surprise, she didn't feel the urge to resist. Instead, the slight trace of spirits in his mouth made her feel intoxicated by proxy. She endured his tireless, demanding kiss, her fists slowly unclenching as she lost herself in the sensation.

When Oscar finally pulled away, Hannah’s lips were red and swollen. Her heart raced in an irregular, frantic rhythm.

Oscar’s long, slender fingers reached up, gently stroking her lower lip. His face was filled with a tenderness that didn't match the playboy in her memory or the domineering man he would eventually become.

"Don’t let other men touch these soft lips again," he murmured. It was a command wrapped in gentleness, an irresistible combination that left Hannah breathless.

It took her a long time to regain her composure. Oscar was truly a veteran of love affairs; how else could he have made her—a woman dead set on vengeance—indulge so completely?

"Oscar," she finally managed, her voice steadier than she felt. "We’re just acting. To put it bluntly: we don’t belong to each other."

The tenderness vanished from his face instantly.

"So, Miss Cooper is refusing me," he said, his voice turning icy.

"I’m reminding you of our arrangement. I don’t want there to be any misunderstandings."

Oscar’s face darkened. Hannah pushed forward, ignoring the pang of guilt. "Before or after our marriage, we shouldn't interfere with each other’s lives. You can have as many women as you want; I won't care. But please, keep your distance from me, Mr. Wells."

"So," Oscar’s voice was dangerous now. "You mean I can hook up with thousands of women, but I can't touch my own wife?"

"I don’t believe a man with your lifestyle is willing to give up the whole forest for a single, crooked tree."

"You’re not me," Oscar countered, stepping closer. "How do you know what I’m willing to do?"

"I won't let myself belong to any man again," Hannah said, her eyes cold. She had been destroyed by love once; she would not repeat the mistake. Her relationship with Oscar was a deal—nothing more. "Oscar, I’ll give you a bright future. That is my only promise."

Oscar smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. He let her go, stepping back with a sudden, jarring sense of gentility. He respected her boundaries, a stark contrast to Charles, who had always pretended to respect her while planning her demise.

"One day," Oscar said, his voice trailing off as he looked at her. "You'll know that what I want was never just a 'bright future.'"

He didn't finish the sentence. He simply turned and walked away. On his tall, upright frame, there was an inexplicable aura of loneliness.

Hannah watched him go, wondering if this, too, was an act. She shook the thought away. She had to be indestructible. She couldn't afford to fall for the man who was supposed to be her weapon.