A/N: I loved the sparks that flew between these two during their promo together last summer. As a result, I give you this random idea that popped into my mind and just won't quit. We'll see where this one goes. Please review and let me know if I should continue with it!

"Who wants another drink?"

"I will get them," Lana said quickly, scooping her cellphone up from the table and brushing imaginary creases out of her skirt. "Everyone will have the same again?"

A collective nod confirmed her query, the rest of the women too captivated by the action onstage to form words.

Lana exhaled deeply as she approached the bar, smoothing a hand over her hair, ensuring that every strand remained in place. She rattled off the drinks order and leaned against the bar, tapping open her email and scanning the contents of her inbox. She frowned at a rather snappy message, her fingers working rapidly to produce a cool, level headed response. The next message brought a smile to her face – she had finally closed a seemingly never-ending deal. This was a major accomplishment, but she expected nothing less of herself.

"I wonder why the beautiful lady is smiling," the bartender said knowingly, presenting the drinks to her with a flourish.

"I just closed a multimillion dollar deal on a property that was deemed unsellable," she announced proudly, taking the drinks and strutting back to her table, leaving the man standing there with a bewildered expression on his face.

"And I thought she was here for the naked dudes..." he murmured to himself, wiping down the bar.

"Aha, a smile! Finally, " Natasha beamed, accepting her drink and taking a deep gulp of it. Lana's cousin was definitely making the most of her last week as a single woman. She was getting married next weekend, and was the most relaxed bride that Lana had ever known. "You got an eyeful of that last guy, didn't you?"

Lana carefully placed the other drinks down on the table, amused. "No. I was more focused on the fact that I just closed a big deal. Honestly, it has been a worry these past few months. I am so relieved to wash my hands of it."

Natasha stared at her in disbelief for a moment, before shaking her head. "Of course you didn't gawk at the guy wearing nothing but a g-string. Of course you had your head buried in that phone. No more! This is my night, I make the rules - now hand over your phone."

Lana smiled, her cherry red-painted lips curving gently. "Point taken, Natasha. I can't live without my phone, I'm aware of that, but I need it for business."

"Exactly, and now that you've taken care of business, it's time for pleasure." Natasha held her hand out expectantly, her empty palm facing upwards.

"You can't be serious, I'm not giving you my phone. What if I get an important phone call?"

"Then you'll take care of it in the morning," Natasha replied gently, stretching over to take hold of the cell.

Lana's grip instinctively tightened, unable and unwilling to let go of the device. It was too central to who she was as a person. Her whole life was on that phone. She couldn't bear the thought of not having it tucked in her palm, or her clutch, always within easy reach.

"Lana…please. If you can't do it for yourself, then please do it for me. I want us to have fun tonight. We deserve it."

Lana looked at her cousin's hopeful eyes, struck by her heartfelt words. She knew that she was a workaholic, often to her own detriment. In truth, she didn't want to be here. She didn't know any of her cousin's friends very well, and found it difficult to join in with their chatter about sex toys and men.

But…Natasha had always been her favourite cousin, the one who calmed her down when she took things too seriously as a child, the one who had stopped her from battering their cousin Sergei to death with a music box (because he was an absolute idiot) when they were six years old. Natasha had even welcomed her to Las Vegas a few months ago, and helped her adjust to life in America. She owed her this small favour…at the very least.

"Okay, okay, you can have it," Lana said gracefully, depositing the phone in Natasha's palm. She leaned back in her seat and sipped her martini, feigning casualness. "Now that you've seen the man in the g-string, what's next?"

"A fucking stud," a friend muttered. Lana hadn't bothered to keep track of their names. They were all different shades of the same colour – tanned brunettes who wore low cut tops and enjoyed talking loudly about their sexual conquests. "I've heard so much about this guy, he's the main draw here. Just wait until you see him."

Lana eyed the woman dubiously, wondering why she was practically panting. How impressive could a man be? And what would differentiate this next man from any other? Weren't they all just muscled males who slicked themselves up in baby oil and teased hordes of aroused women for a living? Did they possess any actual skills?

"My body is ready," Natasha declared dramatically, causing the other women to cackle.

Lana smiled politely. She discreetly checked her watch, pleased to see that it was almost 3am. It had been a long night. They had started out that evening with dinner at a sushi restaurant, which really wasn't to Lana's tastes, but she hadn't commented on it. They then went to a piano bar, followed by a nightclub, and were now rounding off their celebrations by gawking at a group of nearly naked men. Natasha's fiancé had happily sprung for a private performance by the Chippendales as part of her last hurrah to the single life. To each their own…

The lights dimmed, prompting a chorus of excited squeals.

"Ladies, I know you've been waiting for him allllll night long, and I know that you're more than ready for him," a deep voice intoned through the loudspeakers. "Please welcome Mr. Roman Reigns!"

Natasha flapped her hand excitedly against Lana's thigh, her eyes glued to the stage. Lana smiled her default smile, her eyes reflecting her puzzlement. It was just a man.

A large figure emerged from the smoke onstage, still cast in darkness, but obviously built and in great shape. He was well over six foot tall, with extremely defined arms that were clearly visible, despite the shadowy outline. His hands appeared to be holding on to some kind of holster at his waist, his massive body not moving, even though his entrance music continued to pound loudly.

"Will he…dance?" Lana asked, unsure of what was happening. She had managed to skip most of the performance by offering to collect more drinks, or running off to the restroom to check her messages every few minutes.

"Oh, he better do more than just dance," another woman muttered, unable to tear her eyes away from him.

That response didn't clear up the matter. Was he going to talk, too? Have a conversation with them?

The lights suddenly hit, illuminating the man, revealing his entire body and face. Lana found herself staring, drinking in every detail. He was dressed as a police officer, the tight black half-sleeve shirt clinging to his chest, the top buttons open to offer a glimpse of his defined pectorals. He had beautiful skin, it looked so smooth, imbued with a caramel tone. His dark slacks did nothing to camouflage the firm thighs beneath. He was built very solidly. And rather beautifully.

His hands were resting on a holster, as she had guessed. A thick baton was sticking out, one of his gloved hands moving to stroke it suggestively. He had glossy black hair that was tied in a bun at the nape of his neck, peeking out from underneath his hat. It frustrated her that she couldn't see his eyes, they were hidden behind aviator sunglasses. She almost snorted – who wore sunglasses indoors? At 3am?

She wanted to laugh…but didn't. As ridiculous as the set-up was, as questionable as his profession was, there was something compelling about this man. He had presence.

And then his hips began to move.

She tracked the hypnotic movement with her eyes, unconsciously wetting her bottom lip with her tongue. He moved fluidly for such a large man, his hips rolling naturally to the beat, making the women around her sigh audibly. Lana herself remained quiet. She was still, except for a minute shifting of her own hips, attempting to make herself comfortable. It was a difficult ask when that man was in her line of sight.

She felt stupid for reacting to a few thrusts of his hips. This is what they built their business on – making women believe that they had a chance with these 'dream men'. And she had just fallen into the trap…

She retrieved her martini and took a few quick gulps, averting her eyes from the stage. If she could get her hands on her phone, she would feel much better about this situation. It would provide a modicum of comfort at a time when she felt so out of her depth. The other women were sighing and groaning amongst themselves, grabbing each other's hands and sharing knowing looks. Lana couldn't connect to that.

Not looking at the man helped a bit. If she didn't stare at his body and didn't have to watch the way he moved it, then things weren't so bad. She felt like less of a freak for not being able to join in with the other women, or happily accept her feelings of lust for this stranger.

"Oh my god!" Natasha gasped, her hand rising to cover her open mouth.

Lana looked at her cousin, curious as to her sudden exclamation. She followed Natasha's gaze to find that the man was teasingly undoing the buttons on his shirt, opening it up ever so slowly. His chest was broad and extremely gym-toned, glistening under the lights, slicked up with a generous amount of baby oil.

Lana's breath hitched quietly, her eyes wandering down over his abs, suddenly wondering why he was still wearing pants.

"Wow, check out that ink," the woman beside her murmured, her finger pointing to the intricate tribal tattoo that covered his right pectoral and extended down to his right wrist. It was beautiful. Lana frowned at the woman's rudeness, unimpressed by such gauche behaviour - gawking and stabbing an index finger at the man - but she had to agree. Not many men could pull off something as elaborate and detailed as that tattoo.

"Yes, it's nice," Lana replied, fiddling with her pearl earring. She always knew that she was dependent on her phone, but never realised that it was such a social prop for her until that moment.

"It's a complete turn on, is what it is," Natasha sighed dreamily. "Oh shit, he's coming over!"

Lana stared, wide-eyed, as the man slowly made his way over to them. Although they had come to ogle him, the dynamic was now obvious - they were the prey. Her heart thumped in her chest, panic crawling up her throat. This was ridiculous. She was losing her nerve, and all because of a man. A stranger. Someone who took his clothes off in front of people for a living.

His easy smile, the kind that lit up his entire face, warmed them all as he sauntered up to them, pausing to stand in front of the group. He hooked his thumbs into his belt, his eyes scanning over each woman in turn.

"Good evening, ladies," he said in a deep bass tone. Lana killed the urge to shiver before it could even begin to travel down her spine. It was just a voice. "Or, I should say good morning."

The other women tittered, suddenly reduced to teenage girls, gazing up at him adoringly, playing with their hair nervously, eager to nod in agreement, regardless of what this man actually said.

"I've heard all about the trouble you've been causing all over town tonight. Sounds like you're gonna wake up with a lot of nice memories."

Yes, and you unfortunately will be the most lasting memory.

Lana clasped her glass in both hands, forcing a smile on to her lips as the man made small talk, but not really listening to him. She was mortified by her reaction, by the unexpected physical response that he had provoked with apparent ease.

"Well, aren't you going to introduce yourselves to me? I'm Roman."

"I'm Natasha, I'm the bride," Natasha finally piped up, beaming at him. She rattled off the names of the other women, working her way up the line.

"And this is Lana, my maid of honour."

Lana's glass paused mid-way to her mouth, unsure of what to do next. She glanced up and found him watching her, still wearing that casual little smile.

"Hello," she pushed out stiffly, sounding frostier than she intended to, gulping down the rest of her drink. "…Nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you too, Lana. Where's that lovely accent from?"

Despite the dim lighting, she knew that he saw her flushed cheeks. "Russia," she muttered quickly, hoping that he would engage Natasha in conversation again.

He made a deep humming sound, the reverberations going right through her body. "A ravishing Russian. I hope you've enjoyed the show, Lana."

Before she could respond to…that comment, he had reverted back to Natasha, who was smiling prettily and laughing along with his playful talk. Lana tried to act casual, tapping her Louboutin to the beat of the music that continued, allowing her eyes to roam around the room, purposefully avoiding the man to her left.

She almost breathed a sigh of relief when she saw him move away from the corner of her eye, thinking that he had completed his charm offensive for the night. But apparently not…

Roman shrugged off his shirt as he sauntered to the other end of their group, stopping in front of a particularly eager young woman (Tiffany? Brittany? Lana couldn't recall), before he started to dance for her. The woman fanned herself as she watched him sway, his muscles flexing with every smooth movement.

"Did she pay him for that dance?" Lana asked, her brows furrowed as she observed the scene.

"No, this one's on the house for my bridal party," Natasha replied, throwing her arm around Lana's shoulder. "He's going to share his skills with every single one of us. We're very lucky girls."

Lana didn't feel very lucky right then. She wanted to get out of there, away from this man who was far too attractive for her own good, and back to the safety and familiarity of her apartment. She didn't need him to dance for her, teasing her with everything that she couldn't have, reminding her of how uncomfortable she felt in this situation.

Her anxiety soared as he got closer and closer. The other women were reveling in the attention, taking pictures and whooping, one even going so far as to take off his hat and perch it on her own head. Lana wished that she had another martini to hand.

Roman finally stopped in front of her, smiling that strange little smile that he seemed to reserve especially for her. She reluctantly looked up at him, feeling somewhat resigned, hoping that the inevitable would be over and done with quickly. Unsure of what to do, she placed her hands in her lap, nervously wetting her lips with her tongue. If she could maintain a cool façade, then this wouldn't be so bad.

He moved into her personal space, leaning down to place a large palm on either side of her, watching her with a sexy grin. He was so close, mere inches separated their faces. Her heart continued to pound out an erratic, unsettling rhythm. She tried to keep her cool, choosing to focus on his eyes now that she had an unobscured view. They were an unusual shade of light grey that stood out in contrast to his tanned skin. As she had begun to expect, they were beautiful. Just like every other part of this man.

He had been so flirtatious with the other women, allowing them to touch him and flirt back unashamedly. That didn't come naturally to Lana, she preferred to keep most people at arm's length. He remained still, assessing her intently. Was it his intention to freak her out? Because it was working.

But…maybe it would be nice to have his attention lavished on her, to feel special for a few short seconds. Natasha's friends had thoroughly enjoyed themselves and couldn't wipe the smiles from their faces. If anyone needed to smile more, it was Lana. Perhaps it was time to follow Natasha's advice and…lighten up a bit.

Assuming that he expected her to take the lead, she slowly raised her hand, preparing herself to lightly touch his hip. The skin there looked especially soft, in spite of the ripped muscle that lay beneath. Her fingertips were about to graze it, her lips finally finding that smile that all the women had enjoyed, when he whispered, "Maybe some other time, Lana."

Lana's mouth dropped open as he backed off and instead directed his attention to Natasha, who looked as confused as Lana felt. She had been about to participate, to play along with the expected narrative, but he had just…brushed her off. He hadn't turned down any of the other women – so why her?

She knew it was rude to gawk as he went to work on Natasha, whispering something in her ear that made her eyes open wide, her mouth curving into a small grin. Her hands smoothed over his chest and shoulders, apparently at ease with the man that had just shot down her best friend. That fact merely served to jack up Lana's embarrassment.

As desperately as she wanted to, she knew she couldn't excuse herself without drawing even more unwanted attention. She had worked so hard to blend in with the décor all night long, refusing to cackle gleefully while leering at the men, but when she finally mustered up the courage to join in, she had been pushed right back down into her place without much fanfare. So, instead, she sat silently as he fawned over Natasha, while deliberately ignoring the whispers and pitying looks from the rest of the group.

He finished his act by pressing a soft kiss to the back of Natasha's hand, winking at her before moving away to retrieve his pants and shirt that had been discarded on the floor. The women gave him a rapturous round of applause, several getting to their feet and calling out for an encore. He laughed at that while tugging on his clothes, not bothering to button up the shirt.

Lana's preferred frosty exterior had returned, her defensive barriers firmly back in place. They were her only chance of surviving this humiliation. She idly twirled the ring on her finger, feigning a sudden interest in the large diamond that sat atop the band. The show was over, it couldn't be much longer before she got to go home. However, from the sounds of it, the others weren't inclined to let him slip away that easily. It was impossible to tune out the sounds of their laughter and lively conversation, his tone distinctive amongst his female company.

"Let's get a group picture!" Natasha yelled over the ruckus, motioning for everyone to gather close and pose. "Lana! Get over here!"

Lana's head shot up, finding them all staring at her expectantly. She joined them without a word, standing at the edge of the shot until Natasha dragged her front and centre, pushing Roman between them. Lana tensed up when she felt his hand land on her waist, forcing a smile until they were satisfied with the photos.

"You girls wanna grab a drink with me and the rest of the boys? One final nightcap?" Roman asked, the words barely out of his mouth before the women hastily agreed, following him over to the bar like his own personal harem.

Lana grabbed her cousin's wrist gently, holding her back for a moment. "I'm going to go home, I have to get a few things done at the office tomorrow."

"But tomorrow's Sunday…" Natasha said, searching Lana's face with a look of concern. "Won't you stay for one little drink? And then we'll all grab cabs together…"

"No, I really must go," Lana insisted firmly, her tone soft, trying to reassure her cousin. "But thank you for tonight. It was action-packed and so eventful. I hope you had a good time."

"I did," Natasha nodded, unable to hide her smile at the memories of that evening. "Are you sure this isn't about what happened with Rom-"

"Thanks again, I'll see you soon." Lana pulled her in before Natasha could continue, dropping a kiss on each cheek. "Enjoy the rest of your night."

Lana strode toward the exit, cursing the layout of the club as she did so. She had to walk by the bar, offering a small wave to the other women as she swept by. She didn't want to look at him, but wasn't fortunate enough for her wish to be granted. Those grey eyes locked with hers, an unreadable expression in his, countered by a vulnerability that she despised in her own.

She tore her gaze away from him and ducked out of the room, grateful to be able to escape at last. Tonight had been relatively fun, right up to the point where he had made her feel this small.

Luckily, she would never have to see Roman Reigns ever again.

A/N: Do you want to read more?