26. Chapter 26
Chapter 26
Anastasia
“ S ee? I told you this would be fun!” Meg grins, pressing another shot of tequila into my hand like a proud dealer enabling my vices.
The bar is packed, shoulder to shoulder with college students desperate for an escape, their laughter and shouts blending into the heavy bass pounding from the speakers. Neon lights flicker against the walls, casting a hazy glow over the chaos. This is exactly what I needed. A distraction. A reprieve from the suffocating thoughts clawing at the edges of my mind.
Noah showing back up out of nowhere.
His veiled threat to Walker.
It’s like he wants to give Walker and Cole a reason to come after me, to rip apart the fragile balance I’ve been trying to maintain.
And as if that isn’t enough, the investigation into the hit-and-run is ramping up. Levi. That’s his name. I hadn’t wanted to know it, hadn’t wanted that particular weight pressing on my chest, but the professors have been relentless, prying into the student body for answers. Every morning, I wake up half-expecting to find the sheriff waiting in my dorm, ready to haul me away because Cole couldn't keep his mouth shut. Avoiding him, playing nice with Walker, those were my only options. And now, thanks to Noah, even that might not be enough.
“I heard Ackerman is back,” Elijah murmurs in my ear, his voice low, laced with irritation.
“He is,” I exhale, taking a sip of my drink, trying to keep my expression neutral.
“And? How does that make you feel?” he pushes, tossing back the rest of his Long Island in one go.
“Annoyed,” I snap, my fingers tightening around my shot glass. “Because you’re talking to me about it. You got what you wanted, didn’t you? Noah left-”
“Why does that sound like you blame me for him leaving?” Elijah scoffs, setting his glass down with a sharp clink. “He was using you-”
“I’m done talking about it,” I cut him off, swallowing down the fresh sting of memories—the look in Noah’s eyes, the scars I barely had time to process. “I don’t have anything left to say.”
But the question lingers, unwanted and relentless.
What the hell could Noah have done to earn scars like that?
He mentioned his brother was visiting, but I didn’t even know he had any connection to his family. Now that I think about it, I don’t know anything about Noah’s past.
“Fine,” Elijah huffs, exhaling sharply. “How’s your dad?”
I narrow my eyes. He gets the hint.
“Or,” he pivots, dragging out the word, “we can just ask Meg-” He turns, scanning the bar.
“Where did she go?”
“Fucking three down, bitches!” Meg’s drunken war cry echoes from across the room.
I follow Elijah’s gaze just in time to see her at the pool table, pointing dramatically at some poor frat guy as she challenges him to a drinking contest. She’s swaying on her feet, a red Solo cup clutched in her hand like a weapon.
With an exaggerated sigh, Elijah crushes his empty cup and moves without a word, already prepared to catch her before she inevitably face-plants.
Smiling at her drunken foolishness, I wave down the bartender, tapping the counter for another shot.
Thank God for fake IDs.
“Throw her drink on my tab,” a deep, husky voice cuts in, smooth and confident.
I glance up, and for the second time tonight, I feel the ground shift beneath me.
He’s handsome, really fucking handsome. Not as good-looking as Noah, but pretty damn close. His light brown eyes gleam under the dim bar lights, framed by a head of tousled, dark curls that look just messy enough to be intentional. When his lips pull into a smirk, I find myself glaring at his perfectly straight teeth, almost annoyed at how flawless they are. The only imperfection, if you can even call it that, is the thin scar slashing across his cheek. It should make him look rougher, less put together, but instead, it does the opposite. It makes my pulse skip in a way that’s more thrilling than it is curious.
“Care if I sit?” His voice is smooth, edged with confidence, the kind that comes naturally to men who know they always get what they want. His clothes scream money, tailored to perfection, expensive fabrics that don’t belong in a place like this.
I glance around for Elijah, but he’s already deep into a drinking game with Meg, laughing as he tosses back another shot.
“Be my guest.” I pat the empty seat next to me, flashing a coy smile.
As he settles in, he snaps his fingers at the bartender with an effortless authority that makes the poor guy jump to attention.
“Get her a shot of the good stuff. Top shelf.” He grins, his voice dripping with amusement.
The bartender nods without question and excuses himself to fulfill the request, not even bothering to ask for a card.
“The good stuff?” I arch a brow, turning to him with a smirk. “You know that shit is, like, eighty bucks a shot, right?”
“Is it?” He feigns surprise, lifting his glass to his lips. “Guess that means you’ll have to sit here and talk to me to make up for it.”
I’m well aware of how I look tonight. This dress leaves little to the imagination. Tight, black, and clinging to every curve like it was made for me. I opted to ditch most of my undergarments, leaving only a pair of panties beneath the fabric, a decision I don’t regret as I notice his not-so-subtle glances at my chest. Let him look. If it keeps the expensive tequila flowing, who am I to complain?
The bartender returns, setting the shot glass in front of me with careful precision. I pick it up, tilting my head as I study my new drinking companion.
“Anastasia Burns.” I introduce myself before tossing the shot back effortlessly, the smooth burn sliding down my throat.
He watches me, amused. “Jake Antonov.” He sips his bourbon, eyes never leaving mine.
I quirk a brow, setting the glass down with a soft clink. “Antonov?” I echo, my lips curling at the edges. “You in the mafia or did you just get blessed with one of the most menacing-sounding last names I’ve ever heard?”
He scoffs, rolling his eyes. “Mafia.” He exhales a short laugh, shaking his head. “I prefer the term family business.”
Cute.
“So tell me, Jake.” I lean in slightly, dragging a finger along the rim of his glass, watching as his eyes flicker down to the movement. “Why is a man in Louis Vuitton sitting in some sleazy college bar on a Friday night?”
His gaze sweeps the room lazily before returning to mine, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. Then, without hesitation, his hand lands on my thigh.
“I liked what I saw in the window,” he murmurs, fingers pressing just slightly into my skin.
Normally, this kind of flirting would make me roll my eyes. I’d shut it down with a sarcastic remark, brush him off before he got too comfortable.
But after what happened with Noah?
I need a distraction.
And right now, Jake Antonov looks like the perfect one.
“Did you now?” I tease, fingers toying with the collar of his shirt, letting my nails drag lightly against the fabric. “Liked what you saw enough to lose a few of these layers for me?”
Jake leans in, his breath warm and laced with bourbon, the scent rich and intoxicating.
“I sure wouldn’t mind seeing what all the buzz is about-”
But before he can finish, a sharp voice cuts through the thick tension between us.
“Jake, man. Why the fuck are we in this place? You said we were going to a good bar, not my students’ fucking hangout spot.”
My heart drops.
Slowly, I lean away from Jake, pulse hammering as I shift my gaze past him, past the expensive suit and easy confidence, until my eyes land on the last person I ever expected to see tonight.
Noah.
And he’s not alone.
There’s a woman clinging to him, her drunken hands roaming beneath his shirt, fingers mapping the ridges of his stomach like she has any right to. A cold weight settles in my stomach, the expensive tequila suddenly less smooth, more acidic.
For a moment, we just stare at each other.
Noah looks as shocked to see me as I am to see him. His grip tightens on the brim of his ball cap, tugging it lower, as if that flimsy attempt at hiding his face is going to work.
Jake, oblivious to the sudden shift in atmosphere, grins. “I was just speaking to Ana here,” he says smoothly. “Is she one of your students?”
Noah’s gaze snaps to Jake, the tension between them sharpening into something unspoken, unreadable. His jaw tightens. His fingers flex at his sides.
I smile, forcing myself to keep my expression light despite the storm brewing beneath the surface.
“Mr. Ackerman,” I purr, tilting my head, letting just enough venom slip into my tone. “Funny seeing you here. I wasn’t aware you had friends.” My eyes flick to the woman still draped over him, barely standing upright. “Or… whatever that is.”
Jake lets out a low laugh, shaking his head.
“Her?” He scoffs. “I just dropped five hundred bucks on her for my big brother-”
Hold on.
Big fucking brother?
I blink, the words rearranging themselves in my head, my brain short-circuiting as I process them.
“Wait.” My voice comes out slower this time, all previous flirtation gone as I push aside the prostitute part to focus on the only thing that matters. “You told me your last name was Antonov.”
Jake smirks, but Noah?
Noah glares.
“I kept the family name,” Jake sighs, swirling the bourbon in his glass like this conversation exhausts him. “Big brother over here decided Ackerman was more fitting.”
Beside him, the woman clinging to Noah tries to pull him back into her drunken orbit, pressing her lips against his jaw. He barely acknowledges her before nudging her aside, his focus locked on me.
“Ana, I think you should go-” Noah starts.
“Oh, now you care?” I scoff, cutting him off. My gaze flicks to Jake, the pieces snapping together in real-time. “You wanted to see what all the buzz was about?” I repeat his words mockingly. “As in, what your big brother told you? Like I’m some fucking whore you can pawn off... like her?”
The woman merely shrugs, unfazed by the insult, already batting her lashes at the bartender like she’s found her next mark.
“Oh, no, Ana dear,” Jake drawls, grinning like he enjoys my fury. “Unlike my brother, I know how to do things properly. One night with me, and you’d forget all about how much of an asshole he was.” He claps Noah on the back, the action more patronizing than affectionate. “I told him you were a keeper. All he had to do was rejoin the family business.” Jake exhales, shaking his head like he’s disappointed. “But no. Seems he thought breaking things off with you and keeping his respectable little teaching job was the better choice before starting with me again. Pity. You really are fucking gorgeous.”
A lump forms in my throat, but I force it down, narrowing my eyes at Noah.
“So let me get this straight,” I say, voice tight. “You told your brother about me? And now you’re wrapped up in some kind of family business?”
“My business,” Jake corrects smoothly. “Could’ve been his, but…” He shrugs, lazily swirling his drink again. “Didn’t quite have the stomach for it.”
Fucking hell.
Everything inside me screams to walk away, to let this moment be the final nail in the coffin of whatever the hell I thought Noah and I had left.
But I don’t.
Instead, I stay.
And I push.
“So you do have the stomach for it?” I purr, shifting my attention to Jake, dragging my fingertips along the scar that cuts across his cheek. “Is that how you got this sexy little thing?”
“Ana-” Noah’s voice is sharp.
“Shut up, Noah,” Jake interrupts, his smirk widening.
He leans in slightly, his voice dropping into something smooth and dangerous. “I am the financial advisor to my family business,” he says, watching me like he’s waiting to see how I’ll react. “I can make anything happen. Anytime.”
“Anything?” I hum, trailing my fingers down his collar.
“Baby,” Jake grins, flashing perfect white teeth, “I can make anything go away.” His gaze flickers briefly to Noah before he adds, “Including my dumbass big brother, who is clearly being rude to his guest.” His attention shifts to the woman, his expression turning ice-cold.
“How the fuck did you even get in here?” Noah growls, his voice tight with frustration.
“Fake ID.” I scoff, rolling my eyes.
Then, lowering my voice, I tilt my head just enough for my lips to nearly brush his Jake's ear.
“Are you gonna tell on me?” I whisper, a slow smirk forming.
Noah exhales sharply. Jake just laughs.
And me?
I’m just getting started.
“Tell on you?” Jake smirks, his hands sliding onto my thighs, fingers pressing just enough to make a point. With a slow, deliberate pull, he tugs me closer, his touch searing through the thin fabric of my dress. “I’d much rather get to know you.”
“Go away, Noah,” I hiss, my voice cutting through the thick air between us. “We’re done talking.”
Noah opens his mouth, but before he can say a word, Jake snaps his fingers, a lazy flick of command that makes my stomach tighten. And just like that, Noah goes rigid. He doesn’t leave, doesn’t fight back, he just steps back a fraction, looking feral , his fists clenched at his sides.
But this isn’t about him. This isn’t about Jake, either. I need to know more.
With stiff movements, Noah drops into a seat beside his drunken whore, who barely seems aware of the storm brewing around her. His gaze stays locked on Jake and me, his expression carved from ice, watching.
Waiting.
Jake doesn’t care. If anything, it fuels him.
“Where were we?” he murmurs, his fingers drawing slow circles against my skin.
“You were telling me about your work,” I purr, my lips curving in a playful grin. “Tell me, Jake… have you ever gotten your hands dirty?”
He tilts his head, considering me. “Depends,” he drawls, voice thick with amusement. “Do you want me to get my hands dirty, Ana?” His fingers tighten, his grip shifting slightly as his voice drops lower. “Do you really want to know what I do?”
Leaning in, I brush my lips just past his ear, my voice barely above a whisper.
“I want to know who my dear old teacher really is,” I breathe, my gaze flicking to Noah over Jake’s shoulder. “Then maybe… you get a reward.”
Jake chuckles, the sound deep and knowing, his hands drifting from my thighs to my waist, his touch featherlight.
“Let’s just say,” he murmurs, lips close enough that I can feel his breath on my neck, “your drink was paid for with blood… and a whole lot of fucking power.”
A chill slithers down my spine. My stomach lurches.
I force my face to stay still, my smile to remain intact, but beneath the surface, nausea twists through me like a vice.
“Whose blood?” I whisper, watching Noah’s jaw flex, his knuckles white against the bar.
Jake grins, tilting his head slightly.
“Whoever needed to stay quiet so my family could prevail.”
The words land like a blow.
My stomach churns, the tequila rising, thick and sour in my throat.
“Excuse me,” I mutter, my voice tight. “Nature calls.”
Sliding off the chair, I catch Noah’s gaze, holding it for a fraction of a second before my mask slips. My charming smile vanishes the moment I turn my back.
Noah wasn’t running from his family.
He was hiding .
And now, they’ve found him.
And they’ve found me .