Page 90 of Bloom in Darkness

“You billed me for all of it,” I say.

“And when they get tired of paying for you?” Sabine asks. “What then? You think this lasts forever? You think they won’t eventually understand how much you cost?”

I look down at Bryn’s wrist under my hand. He turns his palm over, lacing our fingers together while Caelan stays quiet on my other side.

“You spent years making me think I couldn’t survive without you.” I keep my hand locked with Bryn’s because it’s the only part of me that feels steady. “I don’t believe you anymore.”

Sabine stares at me for a few seconds before looking back at the paperwork.

The meeting takes another hour, mostly because getting out from under Sabine apparently requires signatures, initials, and a shocking amount of discussion about timing. She signs the debt settlement first, acknowledging the six thousand four hundred eighty dollars as paid and satisfied today, then signs Julian’s term sheet.

The sale still has to close, but when Lorcan slides the settlement back toward me, the only number I care about is already there: $6,480 crossed out by the payment, with $0.00 printed underneath and Sabine’s signature below it.

I run my thumb over the edge of the page. No new fee can crawl onto the bottom after I leave, no private booking can add another charge, and no pair of shoes or mystery adjustment can drag the balance back up again.

I stare at Caelan. “You bought the fucking club.”

He nearly spits coffee across the table. “I absolutely did not.”

I point toward Julian. “Fine. You found somebody else to buy the fucking club.”

Caelan wipes his mouth with a napkin, looking much too pleased with the distinction. “That is technically more accurate.”

Julian looks between us. “For the record, I approached this as an investment, not a rescue operation.”

“What are you even going to do with it?” I ask.

“Performance lounge. Dinner service. Cocktails. Live music, dance, aerial, drag, burlesque if the performers want it.” He folds his hands on the table. “No selling private access to performers. No employment debt. New contracts. Current staff can stay if they want. Anyone who doesn’t gets a clean exit.”

Sabine stands so abruptly her chair scrapes the floor. “You’re erasing everything I built.”

Caelan waits until she runs out of words, then sets his coffee down. “We’re done here, Sabine.”

Her face goes red. She looks at me once, then Bryn, then the documents on the table. A dozen people in the lounge are pretending not to listen. Sabine collects her bag and leaves without saying goodbye.

I watch the doors close behind her with my hands shaking a little against the table. Bryn rubs his thumb over mine while Caelan stays quiet on my other side, not asking how I feel, which is probably the kindest thing he could do right then.

Julian waits until Sabine is gone before clearing his throat. “There is one other thing.”

I look at him. “If you tell me I owe you something, I’m biting you too.”

That gets a small smile out of him. “Noted. I looked through your portfolio. The renovation needs artwork—an interior piece, promotional illustrations, maybe a mural depending on the final layout. I want to commission you.”

I blink at him. “My art?”

“Your art. Paid commission.” Then he names a number large enough that I look at Caelan automatically.

He’s already leaning back in his chair. “Don’t look at me. Negotiate.”

So I do. I ask Julian for more. He counters. I point out that a mural isn’t the same rate as digital promotional work and make him separate the two. Bryn sits beside me looking increasingly pleased with every number I add.

Julian finally holds out his hand. “Deal.”

I take it before I can talk myself into asking whether he’s serious again. “Deal.”

Caelan

Two weeks later, Astra is asleep sideways across the couch with his head in my lap when the front door opens six inches and stops. It closes, opens again, then something soft thumps against the wood before Bryn swears under his breath.