23. Rosalie
TWENTY-THREE
Rosalie
“ L ook who’s here,” Charlotte says, her smile as fake as a dollar bill, plastered across her face like she’s playing some game she’s long since won. She’s acting like nothing’s changed, nothing happened, as Jay and I step into the VIP area. The strobe lights flicker around us, casting shadows on faces I used to know, but now they just look like strangers. And I’m glad they do.
We grabbed virgin cocktails from the bar the minute we approached. I glance over at them. Without the haze of alcohol or drugs, I realize something—none of them were ever my friends. They used me to get into better clubs in New York, to get closer to the scene, all because of my last name. It was never about who I was, just who I could get them access to. But I know better now. I’ve seen the games they play, and I’m finally done being part of their charade.
Charlotte’s eyes flick over to Jay, sizing him up like she’s calculating something—perhaps judging him in some way I’m not even sure of—but her gaze quickly flicks back to me. There’s something in it. Something I can’t quite place yet.
“Hey, Charlotte,” I say, keeping my tone sharp, a bit sarcastic, taking a sip from my drink. “You look amazing.”
“Thank you.”
Jay and I slide into a seat. KC, a DJ with a ridiculous ego, immediately starts asking him about the Falcons, but I don’t listen. My focus shifts, a feeling of unease crawling up my spine. I scan the group, trying to spot someone familiar from that night—someone who might hold a clue about what really happened, someone who might remember details I’ve forgotten.
As I do this, Charlotte’s voice fades into the background, her words little more than meaningless chatter with the others around her—they’re all high and talkative. That’s what coke does to you, you talk and talk and talk.
“Rosie!” A voice cuts through my thoughts.
I turn to see Benny, a friend of Vaughn’s, striding toward us with his shirt unbuttoned almost to his belly button, sunglasses perched on his head like he’s trying too hard to look cool. He sits down next to me, draping an arm casually behind me on the booth, and I feel Jay’s body tense ever so slightly beside me, though he continues talking with the guy next to him about his injuries, about the game, his team.
“Hey, how are you?” Benny says. “Didn’t hear a thing since the last party.”
I nod, forcing myself to smile. “Yeah, it was pretty…intense.”
He scratches his head, his eyes avoiding mine, as if he’s suddenly uncomfortable. “Uh, well…you were drunk as fuck, but I can’t really remember much else.”
I narrow my eyes. This is the kind of response that doesn’t sit right with me. I need to dig deeper.
“Did you go with us to the club?” I ask, trying to keep my voice casual. I remember that he was with us at the house party though.
“No,” he says with a shrug. “I left shortly after Jetty, but you guys moved on, right?”
I press my lips together. “Actually, I lost my memory. I don’t even know who I went to the club with.”
His face falters, just for a second. “Wasn’t Charlotte with you?”
I shake my head, my stomach twisting. “No. She went off with some guy.”
I glance over at Charlotte, catching her eye. It’s subtle, but I can tell she’s watching me closely, maybe even trying to read me. But there’s something off about her, like a piece of the puzzle that doesn’t fit. What’s her deal? What does she know, and why is she keeping it from me?
Benny shifts uncomfortably in his seat. “Sorry, Rosie. I can’t really help you with that. But hey, is it true you went home with Kix? That it’s over with Vaughn? I read all the articles, sorry.”
The mention of Kix Lyle hits me like a cold slap. My mind races, but I keep my voice steady. “Well, I saw the photos…but I don’t remember much of what happened. I think someone drugged me.”
His face changes, and for a moment, I see real concern. “Fuck,” he mutters, running a hand through his messy blonde hair. “I’m sorry. I just saw the articles and thought…shit. You wouldn’t do that to Vaughn, right?”
“Yeah…no, I didn’t cheat on him with Kix Lyle,” I say, but the words feel empty, hollow. Something doesn’t add up. But I can’t put my finger on it.
Just then, something catches my eye. Across the room, a bartender stands behind the bar, scanning the crowd with practiced ease. But there’s something about him that clicks. His face, his posture—it’s all so familiar. I know that guy.
I shift, my heart skipping a beat as I fumble for my phone. Benny’s rambling away and I nod here and there while I scroll through the photos I got from the party, those blurry, chaotic images of me and Kix Lyle. And then I see him in the background. The bartender. He was there that night. I know him from there.
My pulse quickens.
“Jay,” I whisper urgently, nudging him. “Look. That bartender. Why was he at Kix’s?”
Jay turns to look, and when his eyes lock onto mine, I see the same realization cross his face. This is the clue we’ve been waiting for. I’m so caught up in trying to find answers that I almost don’t notice Vaughn making his way toward us.
“Hey, Rosie,” he purrs, leaning in for a kiss. I quickly turn my head. Oh shit.
“Vaughn,” I greet him, surprised. He’s wearing a pink fur jacket and striped jeans. Nothing under it.
I can feel Jay’s muscles tense beside me again.
“What’s wrong, babe?” Vaughn asks, touching me on my shoulder. “Need something to take the edge off?”
“No, thanks,” I snap, pushing his hand away.
I lean into Jay, who’s practically seething right next to me.
“I’ll go talk with him alone for a minute, okay?” I say to him.
Jay looks like he wants to protest but reluctantly nods. “Fine, but don’t take anything from him.”
“Promise,” I assure him, before following Vaughn to a quieter corner of the club. I’m still so shocked by what happened, I couldn’t even touch drugs right now. The photos. Everything. It’s so disgusting I just want to step away from this life. All this sobriety with Jay, the way we can talk without alcohol, love without being drunk—it’s made me realize I don’t need it. I don’t need a high. I just needed to feel loved, and I think…I think I’m finally feeling that now.
“All right, Rosie, what’s up?” Vaughn drawls, leaning against the velvet-lined wall like he owns the place. “Why are there rumors about you cheating on me with fucking Kix, and then you turn up here with a hockey player?”
I don’t let him gaslight me. Not for a second. I go straight for what I need. It’s not like he had called me or asked me how I felt about everything.
“I need to know what happened the night of the party,” I say, my voice barely cutting through the pulsing bass. “I lost my memory and would be very happy if you could tell me what you know about the night.”
Vaughn exhales dramatically, rubbing the back of his neck like this is some great burden on him. Like I’m a burden to him. “Oh yeah, about that…” He drags it out, and I want to punch him right in the face. He was way more attractive on drugs. Holy shit. “I wanted to ask you the same thing. I’m afraid someone might be listening in on my phone, that’s why I didn’t text or call you. After I said goodbye to you, the very next morning…I got accused of threatening Kix Lyle. Of assaulting him. Pretty sketchy, don’t you think? And yeah, I noticed you dodged my previous question, smart-ass.”
He’s looking at me too hard, like he’s waiting for something. Like he expects me to already know something.
I blink. “You think I did something to him?”
Vaughn shrugs, nonchalant. “Rosie, you were wasted.” The way he says it—so dismissive, so final—makes something crawl up my spine. Like he wants me to believe I could have done anything. “Charlotte told me the same thing. She’s convinced you slept with Kix Lyle.”
“Absolutely not,” I snap. “I would never—”
“Sure,” he interrupts. Then, casually, like he’s showing me the weather app, he pulls out his phone, scrolls, and holds up a picture.
My stomach drops.
It’s me . Lying on top of Kix Lyle in his bed. Fully dressed. His arms limp at his sides. My face pressed into his chest.
Like I collapsed there.
Like I passed out.
I go so cold my skin feels like ice. “This looks staged as hell.” The words come out steady, but my hands curl into fists to keep from shaking. “Where did you get that pic?”
He could have taken it. Someone just could have set us both up. Kix and me, spinning this narrative.
Vaughn watches me. I launch for his phone, but he holds it above my head, out of my reach. “No, no, no. I don’t know, Rosie. Does it look staged? To me, it looks like you fucking cuddled with him.”
“First of all,” I snap, “you and I were never a thing, so whatever jealous, possessive crap you’ve got going on, get over it. And second, why aren’t you more pissed that someone used me? If you actually cared about me, you would’ve been worried. But instead, it feels like you staged this whole thing just to—”
“You realize I’m the one who looks like crap after this, right?” he cuts me off. “Why the hell would I stage this and make myself look like the idiot? Everyone’s saying I got jealous and screwed Lyle over, but I was in LA! It was you, wasn’t it?”
He touches my elbow, but I jerk it away. “No, Vaughn, I wouldn’t hurt anyone. You should know that—unless you don’t know me at all?”
Vaughn scoffs. “Well, you know too many drugs can turn us into something else.”
I shake my head, my voice barely a whisper. “All I remember is doing coke, Vaughn. Someone drugged me.”
“And I do know you, babe . You’re a party girl and nothing else. You fuck good, yeah, but you’re a bitch. I think you saw Kix Lyle blowing up with his new album and figured you’d replace me with him, huh?”
I laugh, sharp and humorless. “So that’s it? You’re actually backing the tabloids? The bullshit rumors? I can’t believe you.”
Vaughn shrugs like it’s no big deal. “I already told the police what I know.”
Ice floods my veins. “What did you tell them?”
“That you chase fame. That you probably cheated on me. That maybe Kix Lyle said something to piss you off and you lashed out.”
My entire body tenses. I glare at him. “What drugs are you on right now, Vaughn? It’s you who seems delusional.”
He just laughs . “Oh, you’re sober for a week and now you’re holier than thou? Does your new boy toy know you’ll be calling your dealer the second this grand little show has its premiere?”
I freeze.
He leans in again, not letting me remember all the times I used drugs to calm my nerves because I was a mess before going out on stage.
“You’ve cheated, haven’t you?” he asks again, gripping my elbow, and this time I can’t shake him off.
“I haven’t,” I grit out. “And you need to actually be in a relationship for it to count as cheating, if we’re being technical.”
His grip tightens on my elbow.
“Let me go.”
“How long were you with him—”
“Let. Me. Go.”
He pulls me into him, his eyes red rimmed. Fuck, what is he on?
“I don’t want him to have you, Rosie. He can’t have you—”
“Okay, buddy.” Jay’s voice. Deep. Steady. Unapologetic.
Vaughn barely has a second to turn before Jay steps between us. He’s calm but his eyes are steel, and I just love how much taller Jay is. He’s massive compared to Vaughn. “You have three seconds to let her go.”
Vaughn sneers. “Or what?”
Jay tilts his head. “Or you’re getting a firsthand recommendation for a good oral surgeon.”
Vaughn drops his grip, muttering under his breath, but Jay doesn’t even spare him another glance. Instead, he presses a hand to my lower back and guides me toward the bar like I’m the only thing in this entire place that matters.
And then—then, as if my body wasn’t already a mess —he leans down, voice low and right against my ear. “Don’t bother looking at him. You’re mine, understood?”
I know Vaughn stares at us.
I just grin.
Mine . Holy fuck. Yes, I am.
I let Jay pull me into the crowd, my heart still a little too fast, my stomach still a little too tight, but—God. The way he said it. The way he meant it.
He orders us water and watches me take a sip, like I’m some delicate thing that might break.
I nudge him. “Possessive much?”
Jay doesn’t look away from me. “Well, I ain’t letting you go now. That’s clear, isn’t it?”
“You were the one always saying we couldn’t be a thing,” I remind him, struggling to keep my voice steady as the lump in my throat tightens. My stomach churns but for a completely different reason. “Because of my brother. Because I’m too young.”
Jay groans. “Don’t remind me.”
“Backing out again?”
“No,” he says. “Like I told you, I’m not going anywhere. You’re everything I’ve ever wanted—and more. I’ve dreamed about you for so long. I’d be an absolute fool to let you slip away now.”
“A long time?” I ask, biting my lip, my heart pounding. He can’t really mean that.
“Yeah. I shouldn’t have, though. You were so young, and I felt guilty just for looking at you. But I couldn’t help it.”
“When did you start seeing me as more than the annoying little sister?”
He pauses, his gaze drifting away as if lost in a memory. “I think it was the night of your prom. When you came down in that dress, and Riley and I waited for you in the hallway. The moment you stepped down those stairs, I knew. I was done for. And I hated myself for all the thoughts that followed. They never changed since.”
I look at him, the weight of his words sinking in, and my heart skips a beat.
And then—then I kiss him, and I don’t care if Vaughn or anyone is looking.
Jay and I have been nursing our nonalcoholic drinks at the bar for the past twenty minutes, watching the bartender move back and forth, refilling glasses, taking orders, avoiding us.
He’s been stalling.
I can tell by the way his shoulders tense when he caught sight of me. The way he almost heads our way, then pivots at the last second to deal with another customer. The way his eyes flicker over to the exit, calculating.
But he’s out of excuses now. I’ve been waving at him, and he has to ask us next.
He stops in front of us, feigning nonchalance, wiping his hands on a bar rag. With his broad shoulders, scruffy beard, and hands that look like they’ve seen a thousand long shifts, he’s got a rough, lived-in look.
“Another drink?” he asks, voice clipped.
I examine him closely. Yes, it’s definitely him. He has a distinctive Roman nose that I would recognize anywhere.
“Hey, I think I recognize you,” I say, tilting my head, trying to gauge his reaction. “From that last party, right?”
He stills for just a second before plastering on a neutral expression. Peter. His name tag gleams under the dim bar lights.
“Oh,” he says, grabbing a glass and drying it—except it’s already dry. Yep. Fishy. “I actually don’t remember you.”
Right . I glance at Jay. He’s leaning against the bar next to me, one elbow resting on the counter, looking out at the crowd like he’s only half invested in this conversation. But I know better. He’s listening. Every muscle in his body is coiled tight, ready.
His gaze meets mine. This guy is lying.
“Really?” I turn to Peter again. “You don’t remember Kix Lyle showing up here either? I’m sure you know the singer.”
Peter’s grip tightens around the glass. His throat bobs with a swallow.
“I mean…” He forces a chuckle. “Yeah, I guess. He’s pretty famous, right?”
“Do you remember me now?”
He exhales sharply. “Now that you say it…” He shifts uncomfortably, glancing at the far end of the bar like he’s hoping someone will interrupt us. No one does. “I think I do remember you. You were with him. You two danced for a while. Then you left with him and a couple of his friends.”
My stomach flips.
Shit. Willingly left with him?
I grip the counter, willing my heartbeat to stay steady. My mind races, grasping at memories that aren’t there. I went to his after-party, yeah. But with whom? My memory stops when we moved to the club. Right when Vaughn left. It’s like he took it with him.
I was drugged. I just know it. They drugged Kix, too, so I bet my drug test is positive too. They put something heavy in my glass, but when? On the ride to the club? It must be. I must find out who I was with.
I feel Jay shift beside me. His hand finds my back, grounding me.
“Do you know how many people I came with?” I ask Peter, my voice tighter now. “A woman? A blonde one?”
He shakes his head. “No. There…there was no other woman. Three men, I guess.”
Three men. And him. Why was this bartender with me at Kix Lyle’s?
“Did you see me leave with them?”
His jaw clenches. “Look, I don’t—” He stops, lowers his voice. “I don’t remember, okay? And even if I did, I can’t help you.”
My chest tightens. Oh, he’s scared.
I lean in. “Can we see the security footage?”
Peter recoils slightly, his eyes darting to the side. “Yeah, that’s not gonna happen.”
“Why not?”
“Because, unlike you, I need this job and the money,” he says, voice flat.
I hesitate, then pull out my wallet. I don’t flash the cash, just tilt it open enough so he can see the possibility. I hate bribing people. But well, I guess I am a Huntington after all…
“Please,” I say, keeping my voice quiet, desperate.
Peter hesitates. His fingers tighten around the rag he’s been using to wipe down the counter. He looks at Jay, then back at me.
Another few seconds pass.
He lets out a quick breath and gives me the rag.
It takes me a moment, but then I slip the money inside and pass it back to him.
“Wait here,” he grunts.
He disappears through a door behind the bar.
Jay shifts closer. “You okay?”
I nod, but my throat is tight.
A minute passes. Then another.
“I just want to know what happened to me, if I hurt Kix Lyle…”
“You didn’t hurt anyone, but if they hurt you, I’ll kill them.”
“I prefer you don’t. I’m this close to getting charged for something and I don’t want you to be next.”
Peter is back. He sets a fresh virgin Bahama Mama cocktail in front of me and—very discreetly—slides something across with it. A USB stick.
I snatch it fast, shoving it into my clutch before anyone notices.
“Here,” he mutters and waves at us. That’s when I see his Rolex. Odd, I’ve seen that watch somewhere. “Now leave me alone.”
“Well, thank you,” I say and give Jay my purse right before I show Peter the picture.
“One last thing, Peter. Why the hell are you in this photo?”
“Fuck,” he says, and then it happens so fast I have no idea what’s going on. He runs. He fucking runs. I’m so stunned, but then Jay is on his feet as if he doesn’t have an injury and—slows down and winces.
“Shit. Don’t run after—fuck.”
But, I do.