12. LYLA
Chapter twelve
I should’ve gone home.
That would have been the responsible thing.
The smart thing. But here I was—shuffling along with the crowd, three glasses of wine and a half a cocktail deep, trailing Nat, Jae, and Andrey into a bar pulsing with bass and neon.
The space was loud and full of people, the walls lined with leather booths and exposed brick.
It was the kind of bar that didn’t need a big splashy sign out front, because everyone who mattered already knew it was here.
We paused near the entrance to peel off our layers, Nat and Jae shrugging out of their jackets while I slipped off my wrap and handed it to the coat-check guy with a half smile.
Earlier in the day, Jae had promised we could go somewhere quiet and not so busy, but with the buzz I was sporting, I didn’t really mind.
Besides, it might give me an opportunity to catch the man whose eyes had been all over me in the restaurant.
I hadn’t seen him, but I could damn well feel him watching me.
A band played from a low stage at the back, the singer’s voice raspy as he crooned something old-school and soulful.
Jae went straight for the bar, dragging Andrey with him.
Nat, who had a knack for claiming prime spots in any bar thanks to her years behind one, elbowed her way to a high-top near the dance floor—daring the two women who’d made a beeline for it after the lonely-looking guy bailed to just try and fight her for it.
I laughed when they turned tail and ran.
I slid onto a stool and let the music wash over me as Nat disappeared into the crowd.
That was when it started again.
The feeling.
Like someone was watching me.
Not just watching. Fixated. Focused.
I scanned the room, forcing my smile to stay loose, casual.
But my heart kicked up, just like earlier, when he’d been near.
I could feel him. My stalker. The one with the pretty eyes and Russian cheekbones carved from stone.
He was here. It was a certain kind of awareness, like how I could always feel a thunderstorm building just before the sky cracked open.
And I loved it.
The idea that someone like him—dangerous, cold, untouchable—was obsessed with me? It should’ve terrified me. And it did, a little.
But mostly?
It made me feel alive.
Jae dropped a drink in front of me—a citrus vodka something—before twirling away with Andrey. I lifted it and sipped it like I didn’t have a care in the world.
I wasn’t alone for long.
Some guy in an over-ironed shirt and strong cologne slid onto the stool beside me and asked what I was drinking.
I gave him my best good-girl smile. He was cute in a frat-boy kind of way, clearly not from the city.
He leaned in and brushed a lock of my hair over my shoulder, trailing his fingers down my arm.
I laughed at his affection, wondering how many girls he’d made that move on tonight.
“You wanna dance?” he asked.
“Maybe,” I replied.
He held out an open hand. “Come on, let’s turn that maybe into a good time. I’m Jake, by the way, and no, I don’t work for State Farm.”
I couldn’t help but giggle at that.
Placing my hand in his, I allowed him to pull me off my stool and right into his chest. He leaned forward and whispered, “You smell nice.”
I wished I could say the same for him, but his cologne was overpowering. I eased away from his embrace. Dancing with him wasn’t exactly on my wish list, but it beat sitting alone.
What I really wanted was to see if my stalker would come out of hiding.
Nat appeared at my side just long enough to lean into my ear and whisper, “That one’s got nice hair and shoulders. You’d better go dance with him before I do.”
I laughed—loudly enough for him to hear. And that was all it took. He seized my hand and tugged me onto the dance floor.
I moved with the beat, letting the rhythm pulse through my limbs and core.
Years of dance training surfaced without thought—fluid hips, steady posture, every movement controlled but effortless.
My weight shifted perfectly between steps, and I guided Jake with nudges of my hand or turns of my shoulder.
He wasn’t a dancer—I could tell by his nervous hesitation—but I made him look like one.
The way I swayed in time with the music, the way I arched back just enough to keep it sensual without getting sloppy, it all made him bolder.
He placed his hands on my hips. I let him. Then I slid my arm up around his neck—not because I wanted to be close to Jake, but because I could feel his eyes on me.
Somewhere out there, he was watching.
Every sway of my body, every twist of my waist, every controlled roll of my hips—it wasn’t for the guy whose hands were on me.
It was for the man in the shadows.
And I hoped it drove him mad.
I flipped my hair and spun and kept moving. Nat cheered from the sidelines.
All the while, I searched every face. How was he so good at not being seen?
Every second his eyes stayed on me, the more it became a game to provoke him.
So I continued to dance. I wanted my body to tease him from afar.
When the guy I was dancing with slid his hands too low and tried to grip more than he was welcome to, I leaned up and whispered, “Keep your hands to yourself, hero. I’m not drunk enough for stupid.” Then I walked away without saying another word.
He didn’t follow.
I dropped onto the stool at our table and let my buzz settle. My heart was pounding. Not from the dancing. From him . Whoever he was. Wherever he was.
Why wouldn’t he come out?
I leaned forward, placing my elbows on the table and dropping my chin onto my clasped hands. I was pouting, and I knew it. I focused on scanning the room for him. There was an attraction between us—thick, electric—humming like static in the air.
I wanted him to come out of the dark.
To stop hiding.
To prove he was man enough to approach the girl he’d so rudely blown off just a couple of days ago.
But he didn’t show himself.
And here I sat, alone. Well, not exactly alone.
I was a blonde in a little black dress in a Midtown bar.
Guys were noticing me. A handful stopped by the table.
A couple were charming, one was painfully awkward, and one—Jesus—looked like he’d stepped right out of a whiskey ad.
I smiled, nodded, and answered a few questions, but I didn’t give much in return. None of them was him .
The minutes ticked by slowly, one song playing after another.
I polished off my drink and ordered another while Nat danced with her guy like she’d known him for weeks, not minutes—holding her arms loose around his neck, keeping her eyes locked on his mouth, and grinding her hips with confidence and intent.
She wasn’t just having fun; she was choosing .
And I knew Nat—once she made up her mind, she was going to go home with him.
Jae and Andrey weren’t much better. They’d found their rhythm and were fully in performance mode, showing off in bursts of choreography that clearly didn’t come from bar-dancing experience.
Their lines were clean, controlled—flashy without trying too hard.
Andrey even dipped Jae halfway to the floor at one point, causing a little cheer to break out from the nearby crowd.
Eventually, a dark-haired guy with a strong jaw and a sexy smile slid onto the empty stool beside me and struck up an easy conversation.
He had a warm laugh and smelled of clean soap.
He was confident, relaxed, hot in that LA-casting-agent kind of way.
I let him talk. Let myself smile. Let him think he was getting somewhere, even if I knew he wasn’t.
A few minutes later, when he asked me to dance, I accepted the offer—not because I wanted him, but because I needed the movement, the distraction, and maybe just a little more attention.
We danced for two songs, holding each other close enough to draw a few glances from the bar but not behaving indecently enough to earn a warning from the bouncer. This wasn’t like dancing at The Sacrifice—it was fun. Light. Flirty. A low-stakes game I had full control of.
I was a little breathless when we returned to the table.
Nat dropped down beside me, cheeks flushed, fresh drink in hand. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” I said, catching my breath. “Just needed a break.”
She grinned and gave my new friend a once-over. “Well, hello. You her bodyguard or just lucky?”
He chuckled. “Just admiring the view.”
I smiled politely, reaching for Nat’s drink and stealing a sip. “It’s awfully hot in here, don’t you think?”
Nat raised an amused brow and took her drink back. “Yes, definitely hot.” She leaned closer and whispered so only I could hear, “You’ve got good taste.”
Jae and Andrey stumbled over, laughing and swaying, arms tangled around each other.
“We’re out!” Jae announced. “Our feet hurt, and I need fries.”
Nat’s new guy appeared beside her like magic, clearly ready to take her home.
She hesitated, glancing at me. “Are you okay if we leave?”
“I’m fine. Promise. I’m going to head out soon too.”
She leaned down and kissed my cheek. “You sure you’re good? Looks like you’re in good hands.”
“Yes, now go.”
“All right. Text me the second you get in.”
They all filed out, Jae looping his arm around Andrey and Nat’s laughter trailing behind them.
I turned to the guy beside me and offered him a smile that didn’t quite reach my eyes.
“You’re sweet,” I said, reaching for my drink and taking a sip. “But I’m super tired. I think it’s time for me to call it a night too.”
His expression faltered for just a second before he nodded. He was being surprisingly gracious. “Fair enough. Take care of yourself, okay?”
“You too.”
He wandered off toward the bar, already scanning for someone else.
And I was alone again.
Except…I wasn’t.
Not really.