“Learning Italian. Going skydiving. Road-tripping down Highway One.” I paused, let the words sit there for a second. “Having truly phenomenal sex with someone who knows what they’re doing.”
Michael’s glass paused halfway to his mouth, and something dark and hungry flashed across his face.
“That’s on your bucket list,” he said finally. His voice had dropped an octave.
“I was sixteen. I had priorities.”
“Phenomenal sex.” He set his glass down very carefully. “That’s specific.”
“Well, mediocre sex wasn’t worth putting on a list.”
“Mediocre.” He repeated the word, testing it. “So you’re telling me you’ve never had good?—”
“I’ve had sex, and it was fine,” I interrupted, my face burning and wondering why I even brought it up.
He was quiet for a moment, studying me in that way that made me feel like he could see through every defense I had. The dim lighting carved shadows across his face, made him look dangerous. Made me very aware that we were alone in a back corner where no one could see us.
“What else is on this list?” he asked finally.
“Why?”
“Because I’m trying to figure out if I should be worried about what you’re planning to do in Vegas at three in the morning with a bucket list full of things you’ve never done.”
“Maybe you should be worried.”
“Maybe I should.” He leaned forward, elbows on the table. “So tell me. What’s the real reason you came here?”
I looked at him. At the way he was watching me like my answer actually mattered to him.
“I needed to escape,” I said finally. “From my parents walking on eggshells around me. Everyone treating me like I might break if they breathed wrong.” I took a breath that didn’t quite fill my lungs. “I needed to do something reckless. Something that felt like living instead of just surviving everyone else’s worry.”
Something changed in Michael’s face. Not pity—I would’ve hated pity. Something softer. Understanding maybe. Like he knew exactly what I meant.
“How long have you been feeling like that?” he asked.
“Too long.”
He was quiet for a moment, then he said. “Well, you deserve to feel alive, Claudette.”
The words settled in my chest, warm and unexpected. I expected him to scold me. To tell me I was making a mistake. Hell, I was expecting him to carry me out of here, into a private jet and back home to my family.
“What about you?” I asked, needing to shift focus before I said something embarrassing. “I saw your engagement announcement. To Hannah Pierce. That was all over the news some time ago.”
“We broke up.” He said it simply.
“Oh. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. It wasn’t—” He stopped. “It wasn’t what either of us actually wanted.”
I wanted to ask more. To understand what that meant. But something in his expression told me now wasn’t the time.
His mouth curved into something that wasn’t quite a smile—something more dangerous than that. “You know what I think?”
“What?”
“I think you came here looking for something.”
My heart was hammering now. “Like what?”
