LAUREN'S POV

Maybe I was just making a mistake. The thought circled in my head like the bass-heavy beat pulsing through the club speakers. This place was packed, after all. Out of all the men here, how could I be certain it was him?

There were plenty of guys wearing red shirts tonight. Crimson, scarlet, maroon, some brighter, some darker. It was a popular color for a night out. My eyes kept darting around the room, catching glimpses of red fabric in every direction. And if I was being logical, the man I thought I saw earlier had bodyguards with him. I noticed them — men with sharp eyes and...