And now I’m asking him to show me what it was like for him when he couldn’t call me his.
I thought I wanted to know how he survived that particular hell, but maybe I don’t.
It’s been almost thirty-nine minutes—yeah, I’m checking, I’m fucking counting—and I know whatever he’s doing for Lianna and her security system wouldn’t take this long.
Which means he’s down here somewhere in this club.
Jesus, I practically asked him to let someone else put their hands on him while I watched.
Lianna pulls out her phone mid-song, her fingers curling around the back of my neck as she drags me down so her mouth hits my ear.
“Phoenix messaged,” she shouts over the music. “He said he’s done. I’m gonna give you two some time. You good?”
“Yeah,” I yell back. “I’ll go find him.”
She squeezes my hand once as we slip off the dance floor, then she’s gone, swallowed by the crowd, leaving me alone in the middle of a room that suddenly feels too big and too loud.
For a moment, I just stand there, forcing a breath into my lungs.
In through my nose.
Out through my mouth.
Basic fucking biology that my body seems to have forgotten how to do.
I know he won’t be far.
Phoenix never is.
I know he’s somewhere close enough to see me without being seen himself.
Straightening my dress does nothing for my nerves, but I smooth the fabric over the tops of my thighs anyway.
Jordan’s already waiting for me when I reach the bar and places my usual drink in front of me, along with a shot of something clear—vodka, judging by the vile smell of it.
I grimace, and Jordan just laughs, shaking his head. “He said to make sure you drink it.”
Phoenix.
Of course.
So I knock it back, and the burn lights my throat on fire.
I set the glass down and turn to face the crowd. Bodies move all around me, and the scent of alcohol, sweat, and perfume suddenly overwhelms me. The music is too loud, the bass so deep I can feel it vibrating in my chest like a second heartbeat. The lights are way too bright, strobing and flashing, yet somehow I can’t see anything clearly.
It’s stimulation overload, something that only happens when I’m anxious, and right now, everything in me is screaming that Phoenix is near.
Watching.
Waiting.
Answering the sick, twisted request I made with something I’m not sure I’m ready for.
This isn’t just anticipation.
It’s a whole-ass countdown.
I turn slowly, already knowing he’s here—feeling it in my bones before I see him—but nothing could prepare me for actually finding Phoenix sitting in a small booth across the room with a platinum blonde I immediately and irrationally hate. Tight little curls brush her shoulders, and bright eyes stay locked on him while they talk.
