Marcus gives a soft laugh. I’m not sure if it’s because of my brutal honesty or if he thinks I’m joking. I’m definitely not joking.
“Shall we get to it?”
Jeremiah jumps in, eager to get Marcus’s attention away from me. “Yes, let’s.”
Marcus gives me a soft, almost kind smile. “Help yourself to another drink. They're on me.”
“Thanks,” I say, then make a quick escape to the bar.
I sit by the window overlooking the crowd and order another round. The liquor is smoother than what I’m used to. Expensive. I sip slowly and try not to think too hard about who’s paying for it.
I’m so caught up watching the club that I don’t notice Marcus beside me until he speaks.
"Do you like to dance?"
I jump slightly, then recover. "I used to."
"Why not anymore?" His gaze is steady and curious.
I stare into my glass. "It’s not that I don’t want to. I just… have responsibilities. Nights like this don’t happen often."
He leans closer, and gently tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. I freeze, but I don’t pull away.
“That’s a shame,” he murmurs. “A woman like you should have freedom.”
“A woman like me?”
“Smart. Beautiful. Women like you are dangerous for men like me.”
I let out a quiet laugh. “I doubt you’re vulnerable to anyone.”
His eyes glint. “You’d be surprised.”
He checks his watch, then nods toward my friends. “If you’ll excuse me, I have a phone call to make. And your friends look like they’re getting antsy.”
I follow his gaze. Jeremiah and Pauly are hovering with looks that say wrap it up.
Marcus stands. “It was a pleasure, Aro. I’ll be seeing you soon.”
I don’t correct him. Just smile. I know I won’t see him again. Men like him don’t circle back for girls like me.
Still, I can’t deny the traitorous ache in my chest when he walks away.
Pauly and Jeremiah rush over seconds later.
“What did he say?”
“Not much.” I down the last of my drink. “He asked if I like to dance.”
“He asked if you like to dance?” Jeremiah echoes. “God, he’s soweird. Rich people are like a different species.”
He grabs my hand. “C’mon. Let’s not waste the night.”
We head back down and spend the next few hours dancing and laughing. I try to lose myself in the music. In the one night I have to feel like I belong here. To enjoy this.
But even then, I keep glancing around. Not for my friends. Forhim.
We’re about to leave when I feel eyes on me. A shiver runs down my spine. I look up. Through the tinted glass of the VIP lounge, there’s a figure at the window. I can’t see his face, but I know it’s Marcus. And even though I tell myself that he’s just watching the crowd like a businessman counting dollars… some small, reckless part of me hopes—just for a second—that he’s watching me.
