Page 53 of Bleed with Me

My stomach dropped. In Malin’s club?

“Of course he is.” I shook my head, pressing my lips into a thin line. It fit too well. It was that kind of famous place where rich people drowned in noise, bodies, and expensive alcohol. If Dorian was trying to forget me, it was the perfect destination. Some expensive hooker would gladly take my place.

Fuck! Bloody fucking fuck!

“Can you get me in?” I asked as if I wasn’t internally panicking again. Just the mere thought of imagining Dorian with another woman turned me murderous.

“No,” Lucas barked. “Absolutely not. You need an invitation. Malin tightened the security after the last breach. It’s too risky.”

“Fine,” I groaned, already turning the wheel. Just because I couldn’t go inside the club, it didn’t mean I couldn’t wait outside and see Dorian. It wouldn’t be my first time spending the night in the car because of him anyway.

Lucas was quiet for a beat, and that silence told me he knew exactly what I was planning.

“Nina,” he warned, “seeing things you don’t like won’t help you right now.”

“I’ll survive,” I said, ending the call before he could argue.

The parking lot across from Maxime was dimly lit and discreet, tucked just far enough away to avoid attention. The club itself glowed like fire, sleek and impenetrable, with guards positioned around the perimeter with casual alertness that screamed professionalism. People arrived in expensive cars, laughter spilled out of open doors, and confidence dripped from every movement.

I stayed in my car, watching the entrance. Bouncers checked everyone. No one slipped inside unnoticed. The building didn’t have windows, and the metal doors on each side were guarded. It was a sealed fortress.

Minutes stretched into hours. My pulse settled into a restless rhythm. I sat with my eyes glued to the door, my feet bouncing against the car floor. I went through all the options of invading this place, but none included my survival. With or without a mask, Malin or his men would notice me, exactly as they did at Dorian’s party. Best case, they walked me to the sidewalk. Worst case, I met my maker.

My mind worked relentlessly, but nothing but waiting remained. However, my patience was running out, and my phone battery was dying. I didn’t know how long I would be able to sit on my ass without my favorite game.

Leaning my head against the window, my eyes zoomed in on the movement at the entrance. For the past half an hour, it was quiet. All guests were inside, and it wasn’t even midnight, so when the door opened, it instantly caught my attention, and my heart missed a painful beat.

Dorian stepped out into the night. He looked different from the last time I’d seen him, more relaxed. His brown leather jacket hung open, his hair was artfully messy, and he smiled broadly at… a woman.

My stomach dropped to my shoes. Beside Dorian was a woman, tall and elegant, her arm confidently hooked with his. She laughed at something he said, her head tipping back as if it was the funniest thing ever.

The sound hit me like a slap. Dorian didn’t look haunted or conflicted. He looked… alive.

I watched, frozen in horror, as he guided her across the street, his hand placed protectively at her back, and disappeared with her into the hotel entrance connected to the club. The doors slid shut behind them, sealing the image into my brain with brutal efficiency.

Jealousy attacked my chest, followed closely by a hollow ache that spread until my breathing hurt. I felt stupid for expecting anything else, idiotic for believing that one shared intensity could outweigh a lifetime of options.

I sat there, staring at the hotel doors, my thoughts spiraling into darker places.

Who was she?

What did she have that I didn’t?

Was she temporary, or was she a threat?

If Dorian could replace me this easily, then what had I been to him? A placeholder? A curiosity? A problem he’d already solved?

Leaning my head back against the seat, I closed my eyes for a brief moment, letting the resolve settle in my bones.

“Fine, Dorian,” I whispered into the darkness. “If you’re trying to forget me, I’ll make sure you remember exactly who I am.”

-29-

Dorian

This was a mistake, one giant miscalculation. What the fuck had I been thinking?

I sat naked on the massive four-poster bed with a black sheet pulled up around my waist. My back was slightly hunched, my elbows braced against my thighs as I stared at nothing while my thoughts tore each other apart. My desperation to forget about the masked villainess who plagued my mind reached its peak, and I ended up with a gorgeous, funny, and most importantly, naked woman in a hotel suite without an erection.