Her eyes meet mine, honest in a way few people ever are with me. “Yes.”
I nod once, unable to form a proper response, and turn away before I can say or do something I’ll regret.
She slips out, closing the door behind her, and I'm left alone with my thoughts and desires. I stare out the window at nothing in particular.
The thought of Ivy at that club gnaws at me.Hishands finding her waist on the dance floor. His easy smile, uncomplicated by history or guilt. A man who can offer her a night out without an agenda, without the weight of everything I've done and can't take back.
I'd watched her text him this morning. Watched him respond before she'd even set her phone down.Can't wait to see you. Four words that had no business affecting me the way they did.
But that's not really what's eating at me.
It's that single word she gave me without hesitation.
Yes.
No calculation behind it. No games. Just honest want — even knowing Dave would be there. Even knowing she'd already made other plans.
She wants me there.
I should stay the hell away from that club.
I just don't know if I can.
Chapter Sixteen
Ivy
The Tipsy is packed. Saturday night energy pulses through the crowd, bodies pressed together as Three Pence commands the stage. The lead singer’s powerful vocals soar above the indie rock rhythms, her Michigan roots evident in the raw authenticity of their sound. The vibrations from the bass travel up through the soles of my feet. I still can’t believe I’m here.
Back in New York, I’d be in sweatpants reviewing my latest cases or binge-watchingSupernatural. Instead, I’m at an exclusive party listening to one of the biggest bands of the year.
“You look incredible,” Lillianna says next to me, eyeing the dress I’ve borrowed from her. It’s a deep burgundy number that hugs curves I usually keep hidden under tailored suits. “That dress was made for someone with your assets.”
I adjust the plunging neckline. “It feels like everyone’s staring.”
“That’s the point,” she laughs, scanning the room before freezing mid-movement. “Oh my God.”
“What?”
“Thorne’s here.” Her eyebrows lift in surprise.
My heart stutters as I follow her gaze. Sure enough, Thorne stands at a high table near the bar, bourbon in hand, looking like sin personified in dark jeans and a charcoal button-down with sleeves rolled to expose forearms corded with muscle. The casual outfit does nothing to diminish his commanding presence. If anything, it amplifies it. My mouth goes dry, and I have to press my thighs together against the sudden throb of want. I swallow hard, annoyed at my body’s immediate reaction.
“Who’s that with him?” I ask, desperate for any distraction from the heat blooming in my core.
Lillianna grins. “That’s Drake London. He does marketing and management for Blackstone. Come on, let’s go say hi.”
“Wait—” But she's already weaving through the crowd, leaving me no choice but to follow.
Thorne spots us approaching, his expression shifting from casual charm to something darker, more focused as his gaze travels slowly down my body before snapping back to my face. The intensity in those blue eyes strips away pretense, leaving me exposed despite the dress. Our connection bypasses the crowd,the music, everything, as a private current runs between us that makes my skin flush and my heart stumble over its next beat.
“Lillianna,” he acknowledges his sister with a quick kiss on the cheek before turning to me. “Ivy.”
“So you decided to come after all,” I say, sounding much too satisfied. Had he come because I’m here?
A muscle ticks in Thorne’s jaw. “Apparently. Where’d you get the dress?”
“It’s mine. Doesn’t she look stunning?” Lillianna jumps in.
