It didn’t work. Nothing worked, not the noise, not the alcohol, not the crowd outside pretending life was easy and fun and free. Nothing worked against the truth.
He had lost her.
The door to his bedroom was cracked open, just a sliver of light cutting across the floor. Then the gap widened, slowly at first, then with a careless shove.
“Kabir?”
The voice was soft and syrupy, leading with a coy edge that had him gritting his teeth. He didn’t know that voice and he didn’t want to know it either. He kept his eyes shut, pretending to be asleep. He prayed whoever she was, she’d see the bottle in his hand, him sprawled on the bed, and take the hint.
No such luck.
Her footsteps padded closer, light, deliberate, too confident to belong to someone who intended to leave. The mattress dipped under her weight. Cold fingers slid across his abdomen and reached for the button of his jeans.
Kabir’s eyes snapped open. His hand shot out, catching her wrist mid-movement. His voice was gravelly, scraped raw from too much alcohol and hours of silence.
“No fucking chance, honey,” he rasped.
She blinked, surprised, then pouted at him, actually pouted. Her ironed, straight hair framed a pretty, forgettable face. But the angry, needy eyes that glittered at him made an impression. Thisgirl, whoever the hell she was, wasn’t going to give up easily. She yanked her hand back, only to trace a manicured finger along the waistband of his jeans, testing him again.
“I said no,” he said, voice dangerously calm as he shoved her hand away, harder this time to make a point.
She scoffed, rolling her eyes at what she obviously thought were his dramatics. “No need to be a dick. If you can’t get it up now, we can try later.”
His jaw clenched. He didn’t have the energy to be charming. Or polite. Or anything except empty and alone.
“Get out.”
He shut his eyes again. Not because he was tired, though he was, bone-deep, but because looking at her reminded him of everything he wasn’t, everything he didn’t want, everything he was trying to drown out tonight.
A loud crash echoed from the suite outside, sounding a lot like glass shattering. Voices, so many unknown voices, were shouting and laughing.
Kabir’s eyes flew open again, heart stuttering sluggishly. Fuck. He needed to get these people out of here. He had a show in…He lifted his wrist, blurred vision struggling to focus on the numbers on his watch.
Four hours.
Shit.
The girl slid off the bed with a dramatic huff, muttering something, definitely derogatory, under her breath, and disappeared back into the chaos.
Music blasted immediately, someone turning the volume up out of spite. The bass thudded against the walls, rattling through his skull like a hammer against bone.
Another crash followed. Something heavy. Maybe a table. Maybe a body. Hard to tell.
What the actual fuck were they doing out there? He should go and check. He dragged himself out of bed, staggering towards the main hall.
The party was in full swing, the hall inundated with strangers, some of whom thought it would be fun to dance on the table. That explained the crashes and screeches of furniture being moved around. A water carafe lay on the floor, shards of glass glinting dangerously near people’s feet as they danced.
“Hey!” The strange girl from before spotted him, her eyes lighting up. “You decided to join the party after all.”
Had he? The room swam blearily around him as he surveyed the chaos. Ah fuck it, why not…He couldn’t think of a single reason not to.
Before he could do anything though, the door to his suite swung open and Varsha stood there, her expression horrified.
“What the fuck is happening here?”
Kabir’s chest tightened. “Got some more surprises for me, Varsh?” he sneered. “My sister hiding behind you?”
Her mouth tightened. “Thank God she’s not.” Her gaze swept the manic scene in his suite. “You’re on stage in three and a half hours, Kabir!”
