Chapter 12
12
CARLEE
A s I wait to gain entry, the familiar pulse of music thumps through my veins, and I’m brought back to my early twenties. I remember what it was like to experience the city for the first time. It was invigorating, and I felt free. Those were the good ole days, when I was young and naive about how the world worked. It’s been years since I’ve been to a club. Based on the line of people wrapped around the block, the crowd hasn’t aged any.
Once I’m at the door, the big, burly bouncer checks my ID. I look past him at the vibrant lights flashing inside. The guy eyes me with a shit-eating grin—a confirmation that I’ve still got it. With a casual flick of his wrist, he waves me in like I’m the chosen one. No cover charge tonight—pretty girls never pay.
The night is alive with possibility, and I’m ready to embrace it. Lexi talked to me for two hours, and her voice soothed me as I hyperventilated about seeing Samson again. But I need to meet him.
Everything had felt right the last time we were together, but that was nearly seven years ago. We shared an incredible night that’s bittersweetly etched into my memory. I thought he was going to propose, but he didn’t. Two months later, we broke up and never talked again. Closure wasn’t something I had been given. Now I don’t need it.
Obsidian swallows me whole. Every inch of it, from floor to ceiling, is covered in different shades of black.
The skintight minidress hugs my every curve while the patent leather heels give me several inches. It’s confidence I need. The all black dress code is required to gain entry, so everything inside is a part of the experience, including the guests.
As I step onto the dance floor, several heads turn, focusing on me. I make eye contact and grin at a few hotties as the pulsating lights flicker. If I wanted, I could take any of them home with me. I’m single, and this is the type of place where one mingles. Obsidian has a reputation.
I move through the crowd and catch glances of couples lost with one another, kissing and dancing. I take in my surroundings, knowing this will be my first and last visit.
When the crowd parts, I see Samson leaning casually against the polished wood bar, wearing a tailored black button-up and sleek slacks. I freeze, taking him in, almost disbelieving he’s here.
Once upon a time, I begged him to visit me and even offered to buy his plane ticket. But his job always seemed to cage him, locking him away from us.
Gathering my courage, I glide toward him as the rhythm of the music pounds beneath my feet. We meet eye to eye, and the world narrows to just the two of us.
I smile as good memories replay in the back of my mind.
Time heals wounds, but I’ll never forget how he tossed me to the side. A part of me wants revenge for him hardening me, and the other part wants closure. I should’ve told him no, but curiosity always gets the best of me.
In the end, that might be my demise.
“Leelee,” he whispers.
A thrill rushes through me as he wraps me in a hug. It’s the nickname everyone from my hometown calls me. It’s one I haven’t heard in a very long time.
“You haven’t changed a bit,” he quips in his charming Southern accent. His eyes hold the remnants of a connection we once shared.
He pulls out a stool for me, and I sit.
The truth is, I have changed— because of him —but I keep it to myself.
“The facial hair suits you. Have you been working out?”
I can’t help but notice how fit he is. Clearly, he’s taken care of himself, and time has been good to him.
“Yeah, but don’t let it fool you. I’m hot-girl fit.” He chuckles, his laughter warm. “Ask me to run a mile, and I might die.”
My laugh blends with the club’s vibrant energy. “I’ll keep that in mind. How have things been at home?”
“Everything is still the same.”
“I’m sure. Seeing you reminds me that I need to call and check in.”
“They miss you,” he says. “I still get asked about you sometimes.”
“Really?” It shouldn’t surprise me.
We were best friends before we were lovers, and I thought he’d be my husband.
The familiar scent of his cologne transports me back to those reckless days when our love flowed endlessly. The version of me who believed love was never-ending is long gone, replaced by a guarded and skeptical heart that can’t settle but wants to.
Samson’s two years older than me—the boy I crushed on throughout my freshman year in high school. I would have given him my virginity back then, but he treated me with kid gloves because he was best friends with my cousin Lucas. Everything changed the summer I came home from college. The dorms were being renovated, so I stayed with my mom for three months. That’s when Samson and I fell in love under the big, open sky .
“This almost feels like a dream,” he admits.
“It is weird,” I tell him. “I always thought about what I’d ask you if we ever met up again. Even now, with the opportunity present, no questions form.”
“It’s that awkward part of the night when things are weird. We’ll move past it,” he says as my gaze trails along the rough scruff that lines his jaw.
I chuckle. “I think I need a drink.”
“Wait, let me guess. A cosmo?” he asks.
“Extra-dirty martini with extra olives,” I tell him. “No longer a cosmo girlie.”
“Of course you aren’t,” he responds and orders two from the bartender. “I’m following your lead.”
“That’s dangerous,” I offer.
“I’m aware.” His brows lift. “You’re a bad influence.”
I scoff. “Please. Me, the bad influence?”
“Absolutely. You always get what you want.”
“That’s not true,” I tell him. “I didn’t get you.”
“Carlee,” he says, “I’m so fucking sorry.”
“I know, and it’s fine,” I say. I twirl in the chair, my eyes drifting across the room. “Water under the bridge and all that. I wasn’t ready to get married then.”
The perimeter is filled with standing tables. Colorful lights dapple the space, revealing the club’s second floor, where a woman is losing herself in a passionate embrace on the balcony.
Lucky her. I wonder how many of us would like to trade places.
“Have you ever been here before?” Samson asks, his voice low, intent.
“No.” My thoughts trail off as his gaze roams over me.
“Obsidian has quite the reputation,” I explain. “It’s very … risqué.”
His curiosity is evident. “Like what?”
“It’s known for finding random hookups and threesomes,” I continue. A smirk touches my lips. “Most people come here in search of a really good time. That’s about it.”
At the top of the stairs sits a private suite with deep black windows shrouding its secrets. But as vibrant flashes of light cascade through the open space, I catch the ghostly outline of a man standing, watching.
Our drinks slide across the polished bar top like a promise. I grasp my glass, tilting it back, welcoming the gin to wash through me. My mind wanders, and I turn my attention back to Samson.
His gaze locks on to me, and his smile falters, concern flickering in his dark eyes. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t kn?—”
I cut him off with a laugh, the sound carefree. “It’s not a big deal. Everyone here is a consenting adult. Honestly, I’ve always been curious about it. Obsidian just isn’t a venue for a date on a Friday night. Unless you’re into sharing.”
“We can leave,” he offers. “There’s a coffee shop just around the corner.”
I chuckle, shaking my head. “We’re already here. Might as well see where the night takes us, right?”
We sip our martinis.
“Fill me in. What’s happening in your life?” he asks, leaning in a little closer.
“Where to begin?” I muse. “I’m still working at the hotel, trying to snatch up as many hours as I can. Living alone, navigating the dating scene when I find spare time. I’ve got a fantastic group of friends, and honestly, life is great. How about you?”
His smile warms me. “I’m really happy to hear that. Not much has changed. I’m working from home now and just bought a house right off the county road. Funny enough, it’s close to your family’s farm.”
“Really? Congratulations! The Mueller place?” I ask.
“Yes, that’s the one.”
“Incredible. Thrilled for you,” I exclaim, taking a sip of my drink. The saltiness dances on my tongue as I sway gently to the music. “How’s your sister doing?”
Samson and Holiday are twins and were inseparable until she began traveling a lot after culinary school. She’s one of the best pastry chefs in the United States.
“Holiday’s great. Did you hear she got engaged? He’s a chef too. Not my favorite person, but they’re good together. I’m excited for her,” he says, a hint of pride in his voice.
“I had no idea she was dating anyone. Wow, that’s amazing. Please send her my best wishes!” The news brings a smile to my face.
She’s the same age as Lucas, who hates her.
“Want to dance?” He laughs. “Like old times?”
“Sure.” I grin, pulling him toward the center of the room as we venture into the unknown together.
Laughter bubbles up between us as I place his hands on my hips. The warmth of his palms sends a friendly jolt of nostalgia through me. Can’t remember the last time I danced with anyone. A couple beside us are lost in their own rhythm, bodies moving in sync with the thumping dance remix overhead.
“Are you seeing anyone?” Sam asks. His breath tickles down my neck.
“Not regularly. You?” I spin around, flipping my hair over my shoulder.
“No. I’ve missed you,” he admits, sincerity threading through his voice.
“You chose your fate, Sam,” I murmur, glancing around as if the music might drown out his confession.
“Can it be changed?” he asks as I face him. His mouth is dangerously close to mine.
“I don’t know,” I admit.
Then I kiss him, needing to feel if there’s anything left between us. As our lips crash together, I expect a flood of emotions. The kiss deepens, and he tastes like nothing more than old memories. Purely platonic. I pull away and stare at him.
He smiles. “Nothing has changed.”
“Sam,” I whisper, “ a lot has changed.”
The song crescendos to a close, and he gently guides me back to the bar, where I order water. I don’t even have a buzz, which is probably for the best. It’s a reminder that I need to tread carefully before I lose myself in the night and do something I might regret later.
“You didn’t feel anything,” he says.
We loved each other for three years; he knows I can’t fake it.
“Maybe I need another try?” I turn to face him, meet his eyes, and kiss him again. I place my hand on his cheek, our tongues slide together, and then I replay kissing Weston. Our second kiss was a confirmation for him. I pull away as realization strikes.
He grins. “How about that time?”
“No,” I exhale, shaking my head. I expected to feel something, and even prepared myself for it. I’m shocked. “Nothing. I’m so sorry.”
“Are you Carlee?” the bartender asks as two water bottles slide toward us.
I chuckle. “Yes. Sorry, do I know you?”
“The owner has invited you to his private suite,” he replies, pushing a golden ticket toward me.
“The owner?” No one knows who owns this bar.
“Is he really a prince?” I ask, knowing the rumors surrounding this establishment. The bartender laughs, but I continue, “Some have even called him Batman because so much crime stopped once the clubs were strategically placed around the city. His identity has always stayed hidden.”
“You’re right,” the bartender explains. “And you’re being given the opportunity to meet him.”
Intrigue and caution twist in my stomach. “Is my date allowed to join me? ”
“No. Only you ,” he responds, his tone serious. He sets a packet of paperwork in front of me. “Sign here, and you’ll be granted full access. This is a huge honor.”
I glance down at the document. “Is this an NDA?”
“Yes,” the bartender says, handing me a pen.
I suck in a deep breath and read every page, happy I only had one drink. It’s a normal document, and I hesitate before I sign my name on the glittery line that reflects light.
Sam’s grin widens, but I can see the hurt in his eyes. “Go on. At least then tonight won’t have been a complete waste.”
“It’s not a waste. I’ve enjoyed talking to you,” I tell him, knowing his ego is bruised.
“Okay,” he says. “Maybe being friends is all that was meant for us.”
“We were always better friends than lovers,” I remind him. “I did love you though.”
“You’ll always hold a special place in my heart,” he confesses.
“I wouldn’t hesitate too much longer,” the bartender interrupts as indecision hangs in the air.
“Go,” Sam says, shooing me away.
“When I return, I’ll be your wingman, like old times,” I tell him, waggling my brows.
“Deal. You used to always tell me no regrets,” he says.
When he smiles at me like that, it stirs up a wave of nostalgia for lazy afternoons spent with him, and suddenly, I miss my family fiercely. I glance down at the golden ticket in my hand. Its embossed letters catch the dim light, as if whispering secrets meant only for me.
“No regrets,” I say, needing to know who’s on the other side of that smoky glass wall.
This could be the scoop of a lifetime for LuxLeaks. I’ll finally solve the mystery that many have wondered about for nearly twenty years.
“Don’t leave until I return, okay? Try to have fun. Meet someone. There are plenty of single ladies here, but please wait for me.”
“I will. You have my word,” Sam replies, sincerity etched in his features.
“That way.” The bartender points toward a private elevator at the back of the room.
My nerves take hold, but I saunter over to the two enormous bodyguards, built like professional athletes. They stand by the elevator; their imposing presence makes my heart race. As I approach, one of the guards steps forward, and I hand over my pass.
Is this a mistake?
The other nods and ushers me into the elevator.
I quickly text Lexi.
Carlee
If I go missing, I’m still at Obsidian. Okay?
Lexi immediately sends me a text back.
Lexi
Why would you go missing?
Carlee
I’ll fill you in when I leave.
Lexi
You’re worrying me!
Carlee
I’m fine. The night was a bust with Sam. You were right. PER USUAL.
She calls me, and I reject it immediately.
“Hi,” I say to the giant standing next to me, attempting to sound casual. “Do you escort women up here often?”
He shakes his head, but his lips remain sealed. I glance at my phone, realizing time is slipping away like grains of sand .
The tension in my chest doesn’t ease as the black doors glide open. It’s disorienting, knowing how loud it was in the club and how quiet it is on this floor.
“Are the walls soundproof?” I ask as I freak myself out. What if I scream in here? Will anyone hear me?
The guy ignores me.
I’m led down a short hallway, and lanterns with flickering flames hang above. My heels click rhythmically against the marble floor, echoing in the stillness. As I approach, another guard waits at the entrance.
The door opens, and I step inside alone.
The space is stunning and luxurious without being overwhelming. It’s classic and simple. The glow from low-lit lamps creates an intimate atmosphere. The glass walls are crystal clear, and I can see everything from here.
A fireplace blazes in the corner, and an L-shaped couch faces it. The glow of the flame fills the room. That’s when I notice a man with broad shoulders in a nicely fitted suit, sipping a glass of something, his back toward me.
He clears his throat and waves me forward. I take a few steps, ready to see the face of the man who’s secretly made a difference in the city.
“Hi,” I say. “I’m …”
As Weston fucking Calloway meets my gaze, the world around me fades away. My mouth falls open, and he smirks, placing that bourbon glass against his perfect lips. Goose bumps trail over me as I meet his eyes.
“Is this a joke?” I whisper.
He sets down his glass and then moves toward me.
Weston grabs my hand and twirls me around before stepping back to get a proper look at me. I take him in, dressed in black from head to toe with diamond cuff links and rings. He’s devilish and tempting, and I’m half convinced I’m dreaming.
“Fucking gorgeous,” he mutters .
“You can thank Lex,” I whisper.
“I have a lot to thank her for.”
At six-two, he looms above me, his blue eyes glimmering like sapphires beneath the lights. I can’t pull my gaze from him. This is a tidal lock.
“I’m highly concerned you took this invitation. What if I wasn’t sitting up here and it was someone else?” he asks, crossing his arms over his chest.
“Depends on what he looked like,” I say, smirking.
He narrows his eyes. “I learned something new about you tonight.”
“Yes?” I ask.
“You have a very distinct type.”
A laugh bubbles out of me. “Suits. It’s never changed.”
“We both know it’s more than clothes. Tall. Fit. Blue eyes. Brown hair. Older than you. With a sense of style.”
“That’s the physical aspect of it. Now list the things that aren’t obvious,” I urge. “If you know me so well, there should be no issue.”
He stares at me for a long while before he smiles.
“You want a man who wants you just as you are. He has to be kind but also not afraid to tell someone to fuck off, even if that someone is you. He needs to be able to laugh and make jokes but also take accountability when wrong. When you speak, he needs to listen but also hear you. You want experience over materialistic things, even though you like to be pampered sometimes. He also has to be really fucking smart. Much smarter than you.”
My heart rapidly races. I open my mouth, then close it.
“I pay attention,” he says.
My phone buzzes. I see Lexi’s name flash on the screen, and so does Weston.
“I texted Lexi just in case the owner was some pervert and decided to kidnap me or something.”
“Ah.” He smiles. “She told me to be here.”
“Guess someone is taking this matchmaking thing seriously. ”
I meet his eyes, remembering last week, and I lose my words. My thoughts are tumbling in confusion. Weston has that effect on me, pulling me into his orbit with his gravitational force.
I study his mouth, watching his tongue dart to lick his lips. My internal temperature rises as something bubbles beneath the surface.
“Are you okay?” he asks, noticing my demeanor change. “How many drinks have you had?”
“Not enough, clearly.”
He leads me to the couch with him, and we sit. It’s not lost on me that we’re completely alone.
“About last weekend,” I mutter.
“It was just two friends hanging out and having fun. That’s it,” he muses with a glint in his eye. “How’d it go with Samson? You seemed happy.”
Looks can be deceiving.
“Were you watching me again?” I ask, my brow popping upward.
Weston sits back, his eyes burning into me. “Friends don’t let their friends refuck their shitty exes, Carlee. If the roles were reversed, I’d expect you to do the same.”
My brows furrow. “You are not cockblocking me tonight. That would be two weekends in a row.”
“Yes, I am,” he admits. “I think it will be my new hobby.”
I stand. “I do not need any more big brothers to lord over me. I already have two, Weston. Mind your business.”
He grabs my wrist, gently pulling me toward him. I fall onto his lap, and our faces are too close. The air is heavy as he tucks hair behind my ear, grinning as he twirls a strand around his fingers. It plays out like a movie.
“Don’t go,” he nearly begs, and I almost see him physically lowering the barriers between us.
I study him, keeping my hands to myself. “Why didn’t you text me this week? ”
“I needed time,” he admits, swallowing hard.
I whisper, “I thought you were mad at me for?—”
“No. Never,” he says, chuckling. Leaning in, he whispers in my ear, “Watching you come was so fucking sexy.”
His gaze darkens, and his breathing increases as I move even closer.
His lips part, and I wait for him to tell me to stop.
“Can I?” I whisper.
“Yes.”
His fingers thread through my hair, and I gently paint his lips with mine, needing to taste the smoky bourbon on his tongue.
At first, we’re gentle, but it immediately grows desperate. My world spins, and I cannot believe we’re right back where we were. The pin drops, and we quickly lose control. I inch up my skirt, straddling him, feeling his thick cock below me.
“Fuck,” he whispers against my throat as his mouth slides down my neck. His hands snake under my ass, and he growls against my skin, “No fucking panties.”
“Just in case,” I whisper, reaching for his belt.
Weston allows me to take control.
“There’s no undoing this,” he says as I unbutton and unzip his pants.
“I know,” I say, seeing how hard he is.
His cock strains against the fabric, and I gently glide my palm against him. He groans out, the sound low and deep in his throat. It’s so fucking sexy.
My mouth falls open in surprise.
“It’ll fit,” he murmurs.
I reach forward, ready to expose him, and he finally grabs my wrist to stop me. I narrow my eyes, somehow knowing he wouldn’t allow this to go all the way. He never does.
“We need to discuss things first,” he says, his eyes defiant.
“Can we talk afterward ? ”
He zips and buttons his pants, but I can still feel how thick he is below me.
“Never agree to the terms before hearing them.”
“I trust you,” I say, rocking against him again.
“You shouldn’t,” he warns, steadying me by placing his hands on my hips.
“I want as little or as much of yourself that you can give, Weston. There’s no pressure with me. If you want to just be friends, fine. But it would be a whole lot more fun if we were fuck buddies too. Clearly, we’re compatible,” I say.
I think I feel him pulse beneath me.
“You deserve more than what I can give,” he whispers.
“Isn’t that my decision to make? I’m a grown-ass woman, and I know what I can and cannot handle, whether it be in a friendship, a situationship, or a relationship. I know what I want. Do you?” I narrow my eyes.
He places his hands behind his head as I continue straddling him. It feels like time stands still as a smile spreads across his lips. “I don’t know what parts of myself I can give you. I’m still figuring that out.”
“I just want to keep the ones I have right now,” I explain. “I don’t want anything more from you other than this. And maybe getting dicked down a couple of times per week. It’s really that simple.”
He chuckles, meeting my eyes.
I place my arms on his shoulders and twirl the hair on the back of his head. “The truth is, I don’t know if I can commit to anything else. I’m fucked up too. I haven’t loved someone for seven years, Weston. I don’t know if I can.”
“I feel the same,” he admits. “I want to fall in love.”
I smile. “Of course. So do I. But we don’t get to make that decision. It either happens or it doesn’t. Why not have fun while we search?” I lean in and whisper into his ear, knowing he’s still hard below me, “If you say no this time, I’ll never bring this up again. Now or never.”
He wraps his arms around me, and his fingers trail along the back of my neck, causing goose bumps.
“Tell me the rules.” Weston kisses my bare shoulder and up my neck.
“You say it like it’s a game.”
“But we’re still playing, aren’t we?” he asks, causing my heart to palpitate.
He grinds into me, creating more friction underneath me. I rock my bare pussy against him, feeling the warmth pool in the pit of my stomach.
I moan in his ear, enjoying the sensation of him below me. Weston knows what he does to me.
He runs his fingers through my hair. “You want to be friends who fuck?”
“Yes,” I hiss out, feeling the orgasm build. “I want you as you are, Weston. Nothing else. No falling in love. Just this.”
He grabs my ass, assisting me as I drive into him, wishing his pants were off. Wishing he were buried deep inside me.
“Your rules,” he says in a deep gruff.
“We’re just friends.” My muscles tighten, and I know I’ll unravel soon.
“I want exclusive sex,” he says, grabbing my hips. “If your pussy is mine, it’s mine. I don’t fucking share.”
“Okay,” I tell him, panting, needing to feel more of him. “We should both still date other people,” I add as he slides my dress down, exposing my bare breast.
He captures my nipple in his mouth.
“And if we find someone we want to pursue seriously?” he asks.
“Then we stop and pretend like it never happened,” I say as he moves his hand between my legs, brushing his fingers gently across my clit.
“Treat you like an affair?” he asks .
“Fuck yes,” I say as he slides one finger inside, and it’s followed by another.
“Like my dirty little slut?”
“Fuck,” I scream out with pleasure as his fingers curl inside of me.
“I live for moments like this with you, when you push things too far.” He traces his lips along my skin.
I’m on the brink of losing myself on his fingers, and he slows his pace, not giving me what I want.
“No falling in love, Wes. We can’t,” I whisper.
My fingers thrust through his hair, and I think I see stars when he lays me down on my back. Weston kisses down my stomach, until he’s perched between my legs.
“If that’s what you want,” he says, kissing my inner thigh before placing his mouth directly on my clit.
At first, I’m almost too self-conscious, but then heat pools down below. The orgasm builds quickly, and I don’t recognize the sound that releases from my throat when he gently returns his fingers inside me. I sink down onto him as he brings them in and out of me. It’s an out-of-body experience.
I’m high on him.
“So fucking wet for me,” he whispers against my pussy, working me so fucking good that I don’t know what planet I’m on.
“Always,” I admit, rocking against his face.
He quickly memorizes my body, knowing exactly what I like.
“Mmm. Will you come for me?” he says, buried between my legs.
It’s almost too much—the pleasure, the pure euphoria.
I look down at him with defiance in my eyes. “No. Pfft.”
“Liar.”
He continues to devour me like I’m his last meal, and I moan out.
I steady myself, my breathing increasing, knowing that I’m not as strong as I act, not when it feels so fucking good.