“I don’t know.” She shrugged, fidgeted. “He’s colder. You’re… quieter. It’s like there’s something I’m not being told. But whatever. It’s probably in my head.” She forced a grin. “Anyway, I’ll only be gone three weeks. You’ll survive without me.”
Three weeks. Three weeks of being trapped here with him. Three weeks of pretending I wasn’t already in too deep.
I reached across and squeezed her hand. “Of course I’ll survive.”
She looks at me a little too long, then lets out a sigh, her shoulders slumping. “I didn’t want to tell you yet, but… I’m not actually going home-home. I’m going to see Daniel, but… I need my own space. And I thought maybe—maybe when I get back, you’ll come back with me, stay in the apartment with me again?”
The air left my lungs. Our apartment. Our space. And she wanted me there, all while I was tangling myself deeper into her father’s web.
I swallowed hard, nodding, forcing my voice not to crack. “Yeah. Of course, Kate.”
But inside, the guilt was suffocating. Even as I promised her, all I could think about was the way his hand had fit around my throat last night, and the way he’d whispered mine.
Kate was zipping up her suitcase when the sound of footsteps in the hall made her freeze. Heavy. Measured. Him.
I kept my head down, pretending to focus on folding a sweater that didn’t need folding at all, while Kate groaned at the zipper and yanked it closed.
The door creaked open a little, and there he was, framed in the gap. Dean Walker—her father, my boss, the man who had me pinned against his wall less than twelve hours ago. His shirt was crisp, sleeves rolled, hair damp from the shower, and my pulse stuttered like he already knew what was playing in my head.
“Kate,” he said, his voice gravel and command. “You ready for the morning?”
“Almost.” She smiled up at him. “Why, where are you going?”
“Out.” His eyes flicked to me. Just for a beat. Enough to scorch. Then back to her. “Club Z.”
The name dropped like a stone in the room.
Kate’s smile faltered. “Oh.”
He gave her the briefest nod, like that explained everything, and then he was gone. No further details, no glance at me. Just the sound of his footsteps retreating, deliberate, until the front door clicked shut.
I realised I was still holding the same sweater, hands tight in the fabric, knuckles white. “Club Z?” I asked, too casual, my throat dry. “What’s that?”
Kate hesitated. She never hesitated. “It’s nothing you need to know about.”
“That’s not an answer.”
She sighed, dragging her fingers through her hair, avoiding my eyes. “It’s… not the place you go to dance and drink overpriced cocktails, okay? It’s not even the place you admit you’ve been to. Dad goes there sometimes when he’s—” she cut herself off, shaking her head. “Never mind. Just don’t ask about it again. And don’t even think about going.”
Her tone sharpened, edged with a warning I’d never heard from her before.
“Why?” I pressed, heartbeat kicking up.
“Because Club Z isn’t safe, Brook.” She finally met my eyes. “And if my dad’s there, you really don’t want to know why.”
Kate bent over her suitcase again, as if she hadn’t just dropped a bomb in my lap. Like she hadn’t just told me her father was out somewhere dangerous, somewhere forbidden.
I sat there on the edge of her bed with that name burning a hole in my head. Club Z.
“Not safe,” I repeated, more to myself than her.
Kate didn’t answer. She stuffed another pair of heels into the side pocket, her jaw tight.
“Kate.” My voice came out sharper than I meant. “You can’t just say that and move on like we’re talking about a bad restaurant. What the hell is it?”
She snapped the case shut with a final yank and finally looked at me. “I told you enough.”
“Enough for me to imagine the worst,” I shot back. “Is that what you want? Because right now I’m picturing—” I stopped. I couldn’t say it. I couldn’t admit that my mind had already gone straight to him pressed up against some faceless stranger, hands doing to her what they’d done to me.
