Say You Love Me

*Loving Strangers* looped endlessly. Past midnight, the bar still hummed with stragglers—souls drifting, untethered.

A polished man at the bar ordered his third East Indies cocktail, still waiting for a date who never showed. He was about to leave when the clink of glasses caught his ear.

"Cheers!"

"To our handsome, charming Mr. Leo Hartwell—soon to be the youngest CEO of Saraca."

Saraca? That was a renowned international rescue firm.

The man glanced over. In a nearby booth, the young man being toasted lowered his glass to tap it against the girl's. "Here's to a swift victory."

He couldn't be older than his early twenties—baby fat still softening his jawline, an all-white casual suit radiating the kind of brash confidence only youth could pull off.

Perhaps sensing the stare, the young man turned his head. Fluffy bangs swept across his forehead, and his fine brows lifted slightly—*Can I help you?*

The man's evening suddenly felt worthwhile. He raised his glass. "May I buy you a drink?"

Leo Hartwell lifted his hand, flashing a plain band on his ring finger, then pointed to a figure in a booth across the way—back turned, only the top of their head visible.

"My boyfriend. Gets insanely jealous. Known to throw punches."

The man's face fell—disappointed, probably, that someone this stunning was taken, and by someone possessive at that. Then again, a guy this good-looking who'd already made it at Saraca so young had to have serious backing.

His interest cooled. He muttered "sorry" and slipped away.

The girl across from Leo was Nova Coleman—bar owner and one of Leo's most trusted partners in crime. Their friendship was cemented by a shared taste in men. Different genders, same orientation.

"You don't even know the guy, and suddenly he's your boyfriend?"

Leo shrugged. "Out in the wild, identities are whatever you need them to be."

She was used to Leo's trick of conjuring instant boyfriends to fend off advances. "Keep pulling that stunt and one day it'll backfire."

Leo was actually good about it—never let the "entanglements" linger past last call. He pointed at the booth and told a passing server, "Put that gentleman's tab on mine tonight."

The stranger in the booth must have heard. Without turning, he raised his glass in acknowledgment—revealing a plain ring nearly identical to Leo's.

"You two really are a match."

Leo didn't seem to care. Weren't all plain bands basically the same anyway?

"So your old man's deal is—land Orbis Global Fund's investment in Saraca, and he'll transfer his 30% shares to you?" Nova steered the conversation back to where they'd left off. "No other conditions?"

"Getting Orbis to invest is no easy task!" Leo pointed at his dark circles. "See these? Battle scars from six months of grinding. I've lost so much weight my abs are practically gone."

Nova tilted her head. "It's not that I doubt you, but him suddenly dangling something this big—I can't help being suspicious."

"Who cares what he's thinking." The bar's colored lights caught in Leo's eyes like gemstones—the gleam of a young predator lying in wait. "Once I lock down Orbis and win the CEO election, I can finally take back my mother's company."

Nova nodded. "That'd be ideal. Go easy on the drinks—you didn't bring your bodyguard tonight."

"Zane's picking me up."

Right on cue, a man in a business suit slipped through the back door and called to him from a few booths away. "Leo, let's go."

"Zane, you still treat him like a kid. He's twenty-three and you're picking him up from bars."

"Jealous?" Leo stuck out his tongue and headed for the door. "I'm out."

As the car merged onto the highway, Leo caught Zane stifling a yawn.

"I could've gotten home on my own, you know."

"Oh? Now that you're all grown up, I'm annoying?" Zane laughed.

Leo laughed too. He remembered years ago—he couldn't have been more than two or three, too young to understand anything—when his mother brought home a brother from the orphanage.

This brother took his mother's surname and became, like her, one of the closest people in his life.

After his mother passed, he moved out of the Hartwell estate. But whenever he went back, Zane was always by his side.

Leo leaned against the window, chatting idly with Zane. He cracked the window—the night breeze carried a sting of spring rain that kept him sharp.

Suddenly, Leo leaned forward to check the rearview mirror, then glanced behind them.

"Someone's tailing us."

"Mm. Since we left the bar." Zane stayed calm, tapping the car's security panel. "I've already notified Mr. Wallace. Backup should arrive soon."

Leo relaxed. Zane was always reliable. Besides, as the son of the city's wealthiest family, dealing with kidnapping attempts was practically a childhood elective. He knew self-defense—as long as the pursuers weren't armed, three to five men couldn't touch him. With Zane beside him, they could hold out until backup arrived.

"Bring security next time you go out. Just in case," Zane said.

"With you around, there is no 'just in case.'"

"What if I'm not there—"

Before Zane could finish, the car behind them surged forward. One vehicle cut in from the front; another scraped along their flank.

Leo jerked forward, the seatbelt snapping him back. He glared at the SUV beside them. The driver had a long scar across the bridge of his nose—not even a mask could hide it.

When Leo turned to look, the man actually whistled. Then he yanked the wheel—*screech*—sparks erupted where metal ground against metal.

The man tapped his forehead—a mock salute, pure provocation. The next second, the SUV swerved away, and something the size of a quail egg sailed from the window, landing dead in their path—

*Pop!* It exploded.

Then the second. Third. Fourth—a chain of colorful, low-powered bursts crackling along their route.

"What the hell?! What are they trying to do?"