13
The energy outside the club was electric—flashing neon lights, music pulsing through the air, a long line of excited people waiting to get inside. But Amanda and Samantha?
They didn't wait in lines.
Samantha marched up to the bouncer, flashing him her most dazzling smile. "Hey, Chris," she purred, batting her lashes.
Chris, a massive guy with arms the size of tree trunks, broke into a grin. "Samantha, looking good tonight. You know the drill." He unhooked the velvet rope, letting them in without a second glance.
Amanda smirked, nudging her friend as they strutted inside. "How do you know every bouncer in this city?"
Samantha tossed her hair over her shoulder. "I have my ways."
Inside, the club was alive—flashing strobes, deep bass rattling the floor, bodies moving in sync to the music. The scent of expensive perfume and spilled liquor filled the air, mixing with the excitement thrumming around them.
Amanda felt it immediately—the rush, the thrill of the night unfolding.
"This is exactly what I needed," she shouted over the music, grabbing Samantha's hand as they made their way toward the bar.
Samantha grinned. "I know, babe. That's why I planned this."
They found a spot at the sleek, illuminated bar, squeezing in between a couple of guys who were already deep into their drinks. The bartender, a gorgeous woman with short platinum blonde hair, slid over to them.
"What'll it be, ladies?"
Amanda turned to Samantha. "Shots or cocktails?"
Samantha didn't even hesitate. "Both."
Amanda laughed. "I love the way you think."
Within seconds, two tequila shots were placed in front of them, followed by two dangerously pretty cocktails in tall glasses.
"To freedom," Amanda toasted, raising her shot glass.
Samantha grinned, tapping hers against Amanda's. "To no thoughts about work."
They knocked the shots back, Amanda barely wincing this time, the burn instantly replaced by the refreshing sip of her cocktail.
And then, Samantha grabbed her wrist. "Alright. Enough standing around. Dance floor. Now."
Amanda let herself be dragged into the sea of people, the music vibrating through her chest.
The dance floor pulsed with life, bodies moving in sync with the heavy bass that vibrated through the air. Neon lights flickered across Amanda's skin as she swayed to the rhythm, the warmth of tequila coursing through her veins.
Samantha twirled beside her, laughing as she grabbed Amanda's hand. "Now this is what I'm talking about! No work, no stress—just fun."
Amanda grinned, rolling her hips to the beat. "Exactly what I needed."
The music was loud, the energy electric, and for the first time in what felt like forever, Amanda wasn't thinking about emails, deadlines, or early morning schedules. She let herself exist in the moment, the music dictating every movement.
Samantha leaned in, mischief in her eyes. "Okay, okay, but—serious question."
Amanda groaned. "No work talk."
Samantha smirked. "It's not work talk. It's... CEO talk."
Amanda shot her a warning look, but Samantha ignored it.
"Just imagine," Samantha continued, voice teasing, "if Ericka Matthews was here, right now, on this dance floor."
Amanda snorted, shaking her head. "She'd never."
Samantha twirled dramatically. "Oh, come on. Picture it. The suit. The whiskey. The broody CEO stance."
Amanda laughed. "She'd be in a dark corner, silently judging us."
Samantha howled with laughter. "Oh my God, yes. Just standing there, arms crossed, completely unimpressed while we make fools of ourselves."
Amanda could see it so clearly, and yet... what if she was wrong?
What if Ericka, the woman who controlled everything around her, had another side? One that knew how to have fun but never let it show?
She had seen glimpses of something softer before—tiny cracks in the carefully built armor. Would she ever allow herself to let loose?
The thought sent a strange, unexpected thrill through Amanda's chest.
Samantha nudged her. "Uh-oh. You're thinking about her again."
Amanda rolled her eyes. "I hate you."
Samantha grinned. "You love me. But also, you might be a little obsessed with your boss."
Amanda shoved her playfully. "Shut up and dance."
Samantha cackled but obeyed, pulling Amanda deeper into the music.
The night blurred in the best way—song after song, drinks in between, the rhythm consuming every thought.
Amanda felt free, uninhibited, completely in her element.
Until her phone buzzed in her clutch.
She frowned, pulling it out, the glow of the screen illuminating a name she hadn't expected.
Ericka.
Her stomach flipped.
Samantha, noticing her sudden stillness, leaned over. "Who is it?"
Amanda turned the phone so she could see.
Samantha's eyes widened. "Oh hell no. Why is your CEO texting you on a Friday night?"
Amanda didn't answer.
Because all she could focus on was the message.
Ericka: Still alive?
Her heart skipped.
Samantha grabbed her arm. "Bestie. I need you to explain this immediately."
Amanda barely heard her.
Because why was Ericka Matthews, who never cared about personal time, checking in on her?