Sloane's POV
Right after that bold voice, a stack of crisp hundred-dollar bills—ten grand, to be exact—was slapped down onto the bar counter.
The sound made everyone, myself included, whip around.
Some guy swaggered over to me, dripping in designer labels. Good looking, I'll give him that, but his face screamed 'trust fund brat.' He c****d an eyebrow at me, flashing what he probably thought was an irresistible smirk.
A wave of disgust immediately rose in my chest.
Even if I had come looking for some flirting, this was definitely not the type of person I had in mind. He was cheap, superficial, and obnoxious.
I shot him a glare and turned, wanting nothing more than to get away.
But before I could even move, he closed the distance between us. Then he casually threw an arm over my shoul
