Chapter 34
THIRTY-FOUR
The private room is dimly lit, the walls draped in plush velvet that absorbs the relentless thrum of the bassline. The air is thick with the mix of his cologne and the faintest trace of my perfume, a combination that feels as suffocating as it is familiar.
He’s another suit, another eager wallet, but this one’s got a Breitling on his wrist that practically screams that it wants to go home with me.
I drape myself over him and let my hips sway in a slow rhythm. I feel the tension in his body beneath me and see his eyes glued to the shimmer of glitter on my bare skin. His fingers twitch at his sides, itching to touch what he’s not allowed to.
“Having a good time?” I murmur, leaning in close enough for my breath to ghost against his ear.
He grunts something in agreement, his attention too fixed on my tits to bother forming coherent words.
But then his hand moves, too fast and too bold, grabbing me by the waist and pulling me tighter against him.
I stiffen but keep the smile in place, brushing his hand off as I murmur, “Look, don’t touch. Those are the rules.”
He chuckles. “Rules are meant to be broken, aren’t they?” His hand snakes up, groping my breast.
That’s it.
I jerk back, my voice cutting through the music. “Carl!”
The bouncer doesn’t make me wait. The curtain swings open, and Carl fills the frame, his eyes flicking to me, then taking in the suit, whose hand is still mid-grab.
“Hands off the girls!”
With Carl closing the distance, relief surges through me, and I make my move.
The suit is too distracted to notice the subtle slide of my fingers over his wrist. The Breitling slips free and into my palm just as Carl reaches for me, his hands surprisingly gentle as he puts them under my arms and lifts me off the man’s lap, setting me down on my feet.
Once I’m safely out of reach, his demeanor shifts.
He grabs the guy by the front of his suit jacket and hauls him up with ease.
“Hey, I paid for—”
“Don’t care,” Carl growls out, cutting him off. “You can be lucky that I’ll only throw you out and not break your jaw for that.”
The guy barely has time to sputter another word before Carl shoves him toward the curtain. The last thing I see before the curtain closes is the guy stumbling into the club, Carl’s broad back blocking the rest of the view.
I let out a shaky breath and glance down at the watch, the weight of it in my palm steadying me in a way that almost makes me smile.
Compensation.
By the time Carl returns, his expression is unreadable, but there’s a flicker of something in his eyes, concern maybe or just acknowledgment. He doesn’t say anything, just gives me a small nod before stepping aside to let me pass.
Euphoria’s pulsing bassline swallows me whole, and with each step toward the locker room, I shed the tension like a second skin.
The familiar routine of peeling off Glitter begins. I strip away the wig, the glitter-dusted G-string, and the towering heels, revealing Novalee underneath.
As I reach for my phone, I notice a missed call from Annabelle, just thirty minutes ago. It’s already past one in the morning, but she wouldn’t call this late unless it were important. Frowning, I hit her contact and bring the phone to my ear while pulling on fresh underwear.
The line rings twice before she picks up. “Babe!” Her voice is bright, too chipper for this hour. “Finally. I was about to call again.”
“It’s the middle of the night. Everything okay?”
“Yeah, yeah,” she assures me quickly. “Couldn’t sleep. Just wanted to see how you’re doing, you know? Thought maybe you’d gotten over your dry spell.”
“Well, considering I’m on the phone with you right now, I’m clearly not hooking up at the moment.” I pull on a cami and a pair of jean shorts.
“Boring,” she teases, her voice laced with mock disappointment. “Come on, Nova. I’m living vicariously through you over here. You’re supposed to be the exciting one.”
“How’s the new job, by the way? And the apartment? Living the dream yet?”
She sighs dramatically, but I can hear the contentment beneath it. “It’s good. Really good, actually. The job’s stable, the apartment’s cute, and everything’s... fine. It’s boring as hell, but it’s a dream, right? That’s why I need you to keep being you. The exciting one.”
Exciting.
I’ve always been good at playing the part, keeping things light, never letting anyone get too close. That’s the trick, isn’t it? Stay unattached. Keep things simple. When stuff gets too real, too close, you just walk away.
Like now.
I’ve been feeling it, this thing with the guys.
It’s too much, too real. Sylus is… well, Sylus.
Always there, always relentless, breaking through cracks I don’t even realize I have.
Koen? He’s in my fucking head like he knows my thoughts before I do.
And Alaric, he’s too intriguing, too raw, too much like a mirror I don’t want to look into.
And now there’s Nicholas. This little crush creeping in like I have room for anything else.
I can’t walk away from the plan. I promised them that much. And I do want to help. I want to see it through to make sure we get justice for Oscar and take Veronica down. But emotionally? I have to pull back. Get some distance, at least from my side.
Because it’s not like I promised anyone anything. I don’t owe them more than what I’ve already given. And if I let myself start feeling—really feeling—this is going to get messy in ways I can’t afford.
I could just go out tonight, find someone, hook up like I always did.
It’s easy. No strings, no expectations. Just a way to remind myself who I am and how this works.
Because if I let myself sink any deeper into this, into them, what happens when it all falls apart?
When they realize I’m not what they need? Not what they thought?
Hooking up won’t fix it, not really. But maybe it’ll help with this feeling like it’s all getting too close. Like I’m about to step off a cliff and can’t see the bottom.
That’s the thing about being exciting. People don’t expect you to stay. They don’t ask for more than you’re willing to give. They take what you offer, and you move on before anyone can ask why.
“Fine,” I quip, smirking. “I’ll go be exciting. Heading to Vortex now.”
“Call me with all the dirty details tomorrow, okay?”
“Sure thing,” I reply, my voice lighter than I feel. We hang up, and I tuck my phone into my pocket before stepping into the Vegas night and follow the familiar path over to my favorite club.
Vortex is already pulsing with life when I step inside, the air thick with the scent of sweat, alcohol, and anticipation. It’s packed, bodies moving to the pounding rhythm of the music. A few guys swarm toward me, their voices blending into the chaotic hum of the club.
“Where’ve you been, pretty girl?” one of them calls out, his grin wide and eager.
Another steps closer, leaning in to help me hear him over the music. “Haven’t seen you around. Thought you disappeared on us.”
I force a smile, my mind working to piece together who they are. Hookups blur after a while, their faces fading into the background of meaningless nights.
One of them brushes his fingers along my arm, and I force a laugh, shaking him off gently. “I’m here now, aren’t I?”
My gaze sweeps toward the bar, but Sylus isn’t there. Of course, he’s not, and somehow that is enough to keep me from getting myself a drink at said bar.
I push the thought aside and let the music guide me onto the dance floor. The beat vibrates through my body, and I lose myself in the movement, letting the rhythm drown out everything else. But when a guy gets too close, his hands grazing my hips, something inside me snaps.
“Look, don’t touch,” I say sharply, my voice cutting through the music.
He chuckles, clearly not taking the hint. “Come on, pretty girl. Let’s have some fun. Bathroom?”
“No.” The word leaves my mouth before I can even think about it. “I’m going home.”
I don’t stick around to see his reaction. Instead, I weave through the crowd and head for the door, already pulling up the rideshare app as I step outside.
My chest feels tight, my thoughts a whirlwind as I walk away from the club. This is what I do, what I’ve always done. So why does it suddenly feel... wrong?
A sensation like a whisper pulls me from sleep so gently it is almost as if it’s part of a dream.
My body tenses, then melts, responding instinctively as awareness floods me with each rhythmic touch.
My breath whooshes out, as I locate the source of the feeling, a warm mouth between my thighs, moving with the confidence of someone who knows exactly what he’s doing.
I’m lying on my stomach, the bathrobe I wore after my shower now bunched around my waist. My bedroom is dark, lit only by the faint glow from the streetlamps outside.
Another slow, velvety lick slides along my pussy, and my hips jerk in response.
“Oh my God.”
A low, rumbling chuckle wraps around me like a promise, pulling me fully awake with a rush.
Sylus.
The weight of him settled behind me is reassuring and possessive, his hands splayed on my thighs. He knows I’m awake now, knows I’m aware of every slick, reverent press of his lips, and careful sweep of his tongue as he leans in, unhurried, savoring every response he draws from me.
I arch my back and press into his face as a low, shuddering moan escapes me. His hands slide over my hips, keeping me stable while he takes his time. Each brush of his tongue against my skin draws out new waves of heat, and his ministrations are relentless.
Just when I think I can’t take any more, he pauses, his warm breath fanning over me before he plants a slow, open-mouthed kiss on my inner thigh, suspending me in a haze of anticipation.