Not in her usual clothes. No, her legs were bare under a short black skirt, blouse tight against her frame, heels clicking against the pavement. A name tag pinned to her chest.Her name.
My stomach dropped.
She… never left?
That means she—fuck. She lives here.
And that uniform. The way her eyes widened the second they landed on me, her body going stiff with embarrassment, like I’d just caught her doing something shameful.
For a second, neither of us moved. Just… staring.
And when my eyes skimmed over her again, I had a small lightbulb moment. I’d been in enough clubs to recognise that uniform. Short skirt. Tight blouse. The too-bright smile most girls had to fake. The kind of uniform that wasn’t meant for waiting tables. It was meant to make men stare.
No. Fucking. Way.
She broke off eye contact quickly, spun, and speed-walked toward the street. Avoiding me. Running from me.
The corner of my jaw twitched as my teeth ground together. Her ass practically spilt out of that skirt with every rushed step. Her heels clicked faster, desperate. And all I could do was watch.
My chest burned.
Every lowlife creep who went to that club… every pair of hands that would reach for her, every pair of eyes that would devour her, it made me sick.
MyAurora, serving drinks to men who’d never know her, who’d see her as nothing but a fucking fantasy to throw their money at.
The second she vanished down the street, my phone was in my hand. Fingers moved before I could even think.
“Alex,” I muttered when he picked up.
A pause. “What?” he said flatly, bored.
“We’re going out.”
“Out? It’s Friday, I just—”
“Tonight,” I cut him off. “Get ready.”
There was a long sigh on the other end. “For fuck’s sake… fine. But you’re buying.”
Chapter Fifteen
Joshua
We pulled up to the club, neon lights spilling across the sidewalk, bass thumping through the walls. The line outside parted the second the bouncer clocked us. He let us through.
Inside, it was worse. Dim lights. Perfume thick in the air. Men’s laughter too loud, too eager.
Alex froze first. His hand came up to grip my arm. “Holy fuck. Tell me I’m seeing shit.”
I followed his gaze.
Aurora.
A tray balanced in her hands as she weaved through the crowd. My fists curled so tight at the sight that my nails bit deep into my palms.
Before either of us could say anything else, the manager appeared, wiping sweat from his brow as his eyes widened. “Mr Lockhart, Mr Grayson—welcome, welcome. Right this way.” He practically bowed as he led us upstairs, into a private VIP booth with leather seats and a perfect view of the floor.
“What would you like tonight?” he asked, smiling nervously.
