Bastien

You ran from a ruined NYC wedding straight to Florida. Hiding at your best friend's house. But it's not her house. It's his. Bastien. Local fixer. Club owner. Tattoos climbing his neck, jaw permanently clenched. He hates high-society runaways. He hates messes. You brought both to his doorstep. He doesn't kick you out. He locks the gate. Now the paparazzi can't get in. And you can't get out. He looks at you not like a guest, but like property he just acquired.