“You weren’t going to bring one.”
“I wasn’t planning to wear one.”
“I know.”She steps closer, lifting the ribbon between us before looping it carefully around the back of my head.The intimacy of the gesture catches me off guard harder than it should.
“There.”Her fingers smooth briefly over my tie afterward.“Now you match my level of commitment to the aesthetic.”
“You planned this entire evening, didn’t you?”
“Yes.”
At least she’s honest.
The drive to Gild is quiet in that dangerous way silence becomes when two people can’t stop thinking about touching each other.My hand rests low against her thigh the entire ride.It’s not in claim, it’s so I know this is real.Every few minutes Vanessa’s fingers trace slowly along my wrist like she’s rewarding my restraint.
The club is already alive by the time we arrive.Or maybe alive isn’t the right word.The Gild breathes.Candles flicker from every surface, hundreds of flames casting gold light and deep shadows across velvet walls and polished dark wood.Music pulses low through the rooms; not loud enough to overpower conversation, but just enough to sink beneath skin.
Bodies move through darkness in silk and lace and tailored black suits, some masked completely, others only partially hidden.People disappear easily here.But, that’s the point.The club exists for the parts people don’t allow others to see anywhere else.
Vanessa’s fingers slide through mine as we move deeper inside, and I notice it immediately.Eyes are everywhere.Men noticing her.Women noticing her.Everyone noticing her.
How could they not?The possessiveness that hits me should probably concern me more than it does.My intention tonight needs to be made clear.She is mine.
I pull her a tad closer.Vanessa notices as her mouth curves softly beneath the mask.Interesting.I realize she wants this.Wants everyone to know she’s mine.That she’s been claimed.
Oliver spots us and cocks his chin in invitation.He’s dressed in black tonight too; jacket open over a dark button-down, whiskey already in hand as he watches us approach with obvious amusement.
“Well.”His attention moves between us with measured precision.“This feels intense.”
Vanessa laughs beside me.“You say that like it’s an unusual occurrence here.”
“No.”Oliver lifts his glass to point it toward me.“Him looking at someone like he’s debating murder in a room full of people is the unusual part.”
“I’m standing right here.”I widen my stance.
“And somehow still proving my point.”
Vanessa’s fingers tighten once around mine and it grounds me in an unexpected way.
Spencer appears a few minutes later.Calm as ever.He’s perfectly composed in a charcoal suit and silver mask.His eyes land on Vanessa first, warm understanding flickering there before they shift toward me.Not an ounce of competition or tension radiates from him.If anything, the bastard looks entertained.
“Well.”Spencer sips his drink as his gaze flicks between us.“This escalated exactly the way I assumed it would.”
Vanessa actually laughs.
I stare at him, narrowing my eyes.“You’re enjoying this too much.”
“Probably.”
“I appreciate you ending things gracefully,” Vanessa acknowledges.
“That’s because I enjoy surviving.”Spencer darts a quick look in my direction, a smirk on his perfectly chiseled face.Oliver nearly chokes on his whiskey laughing.
The conversation continues around me after that, but my focus fractures completely.Because Vanessa is standing beside me in black silk and lace beneath candlelight, fingers occasionally brushing mine, while shadows dance across exposed skin as low music vibrates through the room.
And suddenly Gild feels different tonight.It’s sharper and much more dangerous.Because this is the first time things matter.Not physically, not casually, but emotionally.She’s mine.The realization lands even harder this time, and I drain the rest of my whiskey in one swallow.
Vanessa notices.Of course she does.She always has; I just didn’t see it before.“You’re restless.”
