He followed my gaze and whistled low. “Natalie. Don’t waste your time, man. Her family owns half the city.”

But I was already walking toward her.

She smiled when I approached, and that smile hit me like a wrecking ball.

“I’m Jake,” I said, holding out my hand.

“Natalie,” she replied, her voice soft but confident. Her hand was small in mine, but her grip was firm. “You look about as comfortable here as I feel.”

We talked for hours that night.

She wasn’t what I expected (no trust fund princess attitude, just genuine warmth and curiosity) and by the end of the evening, I knew I was in trouble.

“My parents would hate you,” she said as I walked her to her car, moonlight catching in her dark hair.