6. Jazz
6
JAZZ
I slump in my office chair, Nerio's words refusing to leave my mind. Someone might notice how valuable you are to me. The weight of that statement settles heavy in my chest, making it impossible to focus on the expense reports scattered across my desk.
"Screw this." I push away from my desk and head for the stairs. Maybe the energy upstairs will help clear my head.
The thrum of bass vibrates through my bones as I emerge onto the main floor. Blue and purple lights sweep across the crowd, creating shadows that dance and twist. I weave between the tables, checking on the servers, but my skin prickles with awareness. That familiar sensation of being watched crawls up my spine.
I pause near the bar, pretending to check inventory while scanning the VIP section. The feeling intensifies.
"Everything okay, Jazz?" Oliver leans across the bar as he keeps making his drink orders.
"Yeah, just..." I trail off, distracted by movement in the shadows of the upper level. A flash of a suit, the glint of a watch. My heart rate kicks up.
"You seem tense." Oliver slides a glass of water my way.
"Thanks." I take a sip, but it does nothing to ease the dryness in my throat. The weight of that unseen gaze follows my every move. I know it's him—can feel the intensity radiating from whatever dark corner he's claimed.
"The new shipment of Cristal came in wrong," I say to him, desperate for a distraction. "Make sure you—" The words catch as that presence grows stronger, closer. I don't dare turn around, but my body knows exactly where he is. The air feels charged, electric.
I grip the edge of the bar, trying to ground myself. But it's useless. Even without seeing him, Nerio's presence fills every corner of this club, wrapping around me like smoke.
Maybe coming up here wasn't a good idea after all.
After another twenty minutes of feeling on edge but unable to even see Nerio — even confirm what my overactive imagination might be making up — I head back down to my office. And this time, I force myself to get lost in my work.
Hours later, I rub my tired eyes, the numbers on the spreadsheet blurring together. The clock on my laptop reads 2:47 AM. The last employee left over an hour ago, leaving me alone with month-end reports that won't balance themselves.
"Finally." I save the file and power down my computer. My heels click against the hardwood floor as I gather my things, the sound echoing through the empty club. The usual scent of spilled drinks and perfume has faded, replaced by cleaning products from the night crew.
I pause at the back door, fishing my keys from my purse. A chill runs through me as I step into the dark parking lot, the alarm system beeping behind me as it arms. The security light flickers, casting uneven shadows across the cracked pavement.
My car sits alone in the corner spot. I click the key fob, but nothing happens. I press it again. Still nothing.
"Don't do this to me." I jam the key into the door lock and slide behind the wheel. The engine makes a sad clicking noise when I turn the key. "No, no, no." I try again. Click. Click. Nothing.
I slam my palm against the steering wheel. "Piece of shit!" The words echo off the brick walls surrounding the lot.
My phone shows only 12% battery. Great. Just great. I scroll through my contacts, debating who to call at this hour. A cab would take forever to get here, and rideshare prices surge after 2 AM.
Movement catches my eye in my side mirror. I freeze, my finger hovering over the screen. The security light flickers again, and for a moment I swear I see a shadow move near the dumpsters.
I double-check that my doors are locked. The night feels suddenly colder, darker. My hands shake as I try to pull up the number for roadside assistance.
But before I can, a sleek black car glides into the lot, its headlights cutting through the darkness. My breath catches. The passenger window slides down with a soft whir, revealing Nerio's sharp profile illuminated by the dashboard lights.
"Car trouble?" His voice carries that mix of amusement and authority even through my closed door.
I grip my phone tighter. "Just a dead battery. I can handle it."
"At three in the morning?" He arches an eyebrow. "Get in."
"I'll call roadside assistance-"
"Which will take an hour, minimum." His gray eyes lock onto mine. "Don't be difficult, little dove."
The nickname sends a shiver through me that has nothing to do with the cold. I glance down at the dashboard — which has not magically lit up — then back at him.
The smart move would be to decline. To maintain that professional distance I've been trying so hard to keep.
But something in his steady gaze makes me feel... protected. Which is ridiculous given who he is, what he does.
"Jazz." There's an edge to his voice now. Not quite a command, but close. "Get in the car."
I bite my lip, warring with myself for another moment before pushing open my driver door and climbing into his car. The door opens with barely a sound, and I slide onto butter-soft leather seats.
"Your address?" He pulls away from the curb, one hand resting casually on the wheel and the other on the gear shift. Why is it sexy when he shifts the damn thing?
"The Morrison on 8th." I try not to notice how the interior smells like expensive cologne and leather, or how the dim lighting softens his usually harsh features.
"Good choice. Secure building." His thumb traces a pattern on the steering wheel. "Though the neighborhood could be better."
"The rent fits my budget." I turn to look out the window, watching familiar streets slip by. "And I like having a rooftop garden."
"Hmm." The sound rumbles from his chest, neither approval nor criticism. Just acknowledgement.
The city lights paint shadows across his face as we drive, and I find myself stealing glances at his profile. Even at this hour, he looks perfectly put together - not a hair out of place, his suit still crisp.
And then I find myself watching as Nerio's hand moves with practiced ease. His fingers brush against mine where they rest on the center console, sending electricity shooting up my arm. I pull back, tucking my hand into my lap.
"Jumpy tonight." His voice carries that dangerous edge of amusement.
"Just tired." I focus on the passing streetlights, trying to ignore how the small space amplifies his presence.
He downshifts for a red light, his knuckles grazing my thigh. My breath catches. The touch feels deliberate this time.
"You work too hard." His eyes stay fixed on the road, but a slight smile plays at the corner of his mouth. "Always the last to leave."
"Someone has to make sure everything runs smoothly."
"And you do it so well." His hand returns to the gear shift, fingers wrapping around it in a way that draws my attention. "But I wonder what drives that dedication."
I shift in my seat, hyper-aware of every movement. "Just doing my job."
Fuck. How often am I repeating that now? Who am I trying to convince? Him…or me?
"Is that all?" The car accelerates smoothly, and his hand brushes mine again as he shifts. This time, his fingers linger for a heartbeat longer than necessary.
"Yes," I squeak out.
Heat blooms across my skin from where he touched. The leather seat feels too warm, the air too thick. I cross my legs, trying to create distance in the confined space, but it only makes me more conscious of his proximity.
"You're very quiet, little dove." His voice drops lower, taking on that velvet quality that makes my stomach flip.
"Nothing to say." The words come out breathier than I intended.
He hums low in his throat, a sound that vibrates through the space between us. When he shifts gears again, his fingers trail deliberately across my wrist, leaving fire in their wake.
I bite my lip, fighting the urge to lean into his touch. But I also don't move away from him. Every nerve ending feels alive, attuned to his smallest movements. The city lights blur past outside, but inside this car, time seems to slow, measured in heartbeats and stolen touches.
The care glides to a stop in front of my building, the engine purring before falling silent. I reach for my seatbelt, but Nerio's hand catches mine.
"Allow me." He undoes the buckle and leans across me as he slowly slides the belt back in place. The scent of his cologne wraps around me, making my head spin.
My breath hitches when he doesn't pull back. Instead, he shifts closer, his chest nearly touching mine. His free hand comes up to brush a curl from my face, knuckles grazing my cheek.
"Nerio..." His name escapes as barely a whisper.
"Yes, little dove?" Those gray eyes lock onto mine, dark with intention. The space between us crackles with electricity.
My gaze drops to his lips, perfectly sculpted and so close. The leather seat creaks as he moves even nearer, his breath warm against my skin. This is the second time in a week I've thought about kissing him, and I think about what Skye said. It's just fun, right?
Trying to hide my shaking, I slide a hand up his chest, and he freezes, letting me explore him. His skin is warm, more muscular than I expected, and every second I spend tracing up his body only builds the tension between us.
When my hand comes up and brushes along his jaw, I can't help but look down at his mouth. What will he taste like? What will he kiss like?
I think I want to find out.
Dragging my gaze back up to his, I lick my lips. His eyes follow the movement, and I start to move in-
A sharp ring cuts through the tension, and I jump, jerking back. Nerio's phone vibrates in his jacket pocket, the harsh sound shattering the moment.
He pulls away with a curse, fishing out his phone. His expression hardens as he checks the screen.
"Take this inside." He hands me my purse without looking at me, already pressing the phone to his ear. My mind can barely keep up now, disappointment flooding my body when I should feel relieved. "Lorenzo. Yes, I was expecting your call."
Trying to get a grip, I fumble with the door handle, my hands still shaking. The cool night air hits my heated face as I step onto the sidewalk.
"Get some rest, Jazz." His voice carries that note of command again, even as he focuses on his conversation.
I shut the car door, watching through the tinted window as he runs a hand through his hair, tension visible in his jaw. The spell breaks completely as he pulls away from the curb, leaving me alone with my racing heart and the ghost of his almost-kiss on my skin.