Chapter 8
LACHLAN
The past two weeks have been the best kind of torture.
I watch Tessa from across the lecture hall, her head bent over her notebook, pen moving across the page as I discuss cognitive dissonance. She's wearing that blue sweater I peeled off her last night, and the memory of her skin under my hands makes it difficult to concentrate.
She glances up, catches my eye for half a second, and I see the heat there before she looks away. Professional. We're being so goddamn professional, it's killing me.
Class ends and students file out, Tessa among them. She doesn't look back. We agreed on this. No special treatment, no lingering, nothing that would raise suspicion. But fuck, I want to follow her, pull her into my office, taste that mouth that's been driving me insane all morning.
Instead, I pack up my materials and head to my car. We're meeting at the coffee shop ten miles from campus. It's become our routine, neutral territory where we can be together without raising questions. Just two people grabbing coffee. Nothing suspicious about that.
Except everything about this is suspicious, and we both know it.
Derek's threat hangs over us like a guillotine. Two weeks of silence, and I don't trust it. Men like him don't make threats and then walk away. He's planning something, waiting for the right moment to strike.
Tessa thinks I don't notice how jumpy she's gotten, how she checks her phone constantly, expecting the other shoe to drop.
But I notice everything about her now. The way she bites her lip when she's nervous.
The little sound she makes in the back of her throat when I kiss that spot on her neck.
How she reaches for me in her sleep like she's afraid I'll disappear.
I'm in deep. Deeper than I've been with anyone.
The coffee shop is crowded when I arrive. I spot Tessa immediately at a corner table, already nursing what I know is a vanilla latte with an extra shot. I've memorized these details about her the way I used to memorize case files.
"Hey," she says when I slide into the seat across from her.
"Hey yourself. Did your friend Madison dig up anything?"
“No, she’s been asking around,” she says. “Quietly. Digging through Derek’s friends, trying to see if anyone knew about the footage, but nothing so far. Either they’re keeping their mouths shut, or he really hasn’t told anyone. But that still doesn’t explain how he got it in the first place.”
"It would have come from the club's own system," I say. "Someone with access pulled it and gave it to Derek. The question is who."
"And why." Tessa wraps her hands around her cup. "Why would someone do that? The whole point of that place is discretion. If word gets out that they're leaking footage…"
"It would destroy their reputation," I finish. "Which means whoever did it had a personal reason. Someone who knew Derek, or knew you, or…"
"Or both," Tessa says, and I can see her mind working. "Someone who would benefit from Derek having that information. Are you sure there’s no one you could ask at the club?"
I shake my head slowly. "I made it a point to stay in the shadows there. No real names. No attention. That’s how I was able to steer women away from the guys I thought had bad intentions. It was undercover in a way, even if I had no right to do it."
Before she can respond, the bell over the door chimes and Tessa's entire body goes rigid. I follow her gaze and see a young woman walking in.
"That's her," Tessa whispers. "That's Vanessa."
I study the woman who helped destroy Tessa’s last relationship. She used to be her friend until she started dating her ex right after they broke up. She's ordering at the counter, completely oblivious to our presence.
"Do you want to leave?" I ask.
"No." Tessa's jaw sets. "I'm not running from her."
Vanessa gets her drink and turns, scanning the room. Her eyes land on Tessa and something flickers across her face.
She walks over.
"Tessa," she says, her voice dripping with false sweetness. "Wow. Hi. I didn't expect to see you here."
"Vanessa." Tessa's tone is ice.
Vanessa's eyes slide to me. "And who's this?"
"A friend," Tessa says before I can speak.
"Right. A friend." Vanessa twirls her drink. “So… keeping busy these days?”
“I am,” Tessa says, guarded.
Vanessa’s smile sharpens. “Seems so.”
Tessa narrows her eyes. “How would you know what I’m doing these days?”
Vanessa lifts her cup, taking a slow sip. “Amazing what you can learn just by paying attention.”
She lets that hang in the air for a beat, then turns with a smirk. “See you around, Tess.”
Tessa is quiet for a beat, then suddenly stiffens. “Wait a minute.”
I glance at her. “What is it?”
“What if it was Vanessa who saw me at the club?”
“Does she go there?”
“I don’t know,” she says. “Have you seen her before?”
I shake my head slowly. “Not that I remember. But whoever sent that footage to Derek obviously had access to the club’s security system. That’s not something just anyone can get to. You think she works there?”
“No. I don’t think so.”
“So maybe she was just a guest?”
“Maybe. And if she saw me there, maybe she went digging afterward, connected with someone who could get the footage.”
“So she’s not just being petty. She’s playing a long game.”
“She always did want what I had,” Tessa says. “And I didn’t see it back then. I thought we were friends. But obviously, she wanted to hurt me.”
Tessa takes a shaky breath. “If she was there that night, maybe she goes regularly. Maybe we go back. See if she shows.”
I hesitate. “Do you really want to go there?”
She nods. “I need to. With you.”
I let out a slow breath. “That was my old life, Tessa. I walked away from it the moment you stepped into mine.”
“I know,” she says softly. “But this isn’t about that. It’s about getting answers.”
A long pause stretches between us. Then I nod.
“Okay. Let’s go see.”
Tessa and I walk through the entrance wearing our masks. To anyone watching, we're just another couple looking for an evening's entertainment.
But my hand is tight on Tessa's, and I'm scanning every face, every body, looking for Vanessa.
"Relax," Tessa says. "You look like you're about to murder someone."
"If anyone looks at you, I might."
We move through the main floor, past the bar where I spent so many nights. The memory feels so distant now, like it belongs to a different version of me. That man is gone—just a shell numbing himself, going through the motions. I barely recognize him anymore.
"Hey beautiful," some guy says, stepping into Tessa's space. "You new here?"
"She's with me," I say.
"I wasn't talking to you, man." He doesn't even glance at me, his attention still on Tessa. "What do you say? Want to find somewhere more interesting?"
I move fast, putting myself as a wall between her and this asshole.
"The lady isn't interested," I say, and there's enough menace in my voice that he takes a step back.
"Why don't you let her decide that?"
"She already has. Now walk away before this becomes a problem."
He stares at me for a long moment, then backs away. "Whatever, man."
He disappears into the crowd, and I turn to Tessa. "You okay?"
"Yeah." She's looking at me with amusement. "Very possessive, Professor."
"I don't share," I say. "Not you. Never you."
The look in her eyes makes me want to forget why we're here, to pull her into one of these rooms and remind her exactly who she belongs to. But we have a mission.
"Come on," I say, leading her toward the VIP section.
The VIP area is on a raised platform overlooking the main floor, separated by sheer black curtains.
The clientele are the club's regulars, people who pay premium prices for extra privacy and access.
Private rooms line the back wall, and there's a bar with a bartender who knows better than to ask questions.
And there, in a corner booth, I see him.
Roddy Cohn, the club’s owner, is holding court with his usual crowd. He's in his fifties, distinguished in the way money and power make men, with silver hair and expensive taste. And on his lap, laughing at something he's said, is Vanessa.
She's wearing a gold mask that doesn't hide much, a short black dress that shows off her legs. Her hand is on Roddy's chest.
“There she is,” I say, pointing through the gap in the curtain. “With the club’s owner. And if she's that close to Roddy, if she's one of his girls…”
"Then she could get access to the security system," Tessa finishes. I glance over at her, but she’s already stepping back from the curtain.
“I knew it,” she says. “Back at the coffee shop. The way she talked to me, it felt off.”
“Your instincts are good,” I say.
We watch as Vanessa leans in to whisper something in Roddy's ear.
He laughs, his hand sliding up her thigh in a way that makes my skin crawl.
Not because of the intimacy, I've seen far more explicit things in this club, but because I'm watching the woman who's actively trying to destroy both our lives.
"She got the footage. She gave it to Derek."
"But why?" I ask. "What does she gain from this?"
"Derek wanted me back. She probably knew that. Maybe she was jealous, or insecure, or maybe she thought if she showed him I was at a sex club, it would disgust him enough to stop wanting me back."
I look at Vanessa again and feel a cold rage building in my chest.
"We need evidence that she pulled that footage," I say.
"How do we get that?"
I watch Roddy stand up, whisper something to Vanessa, and head toward his office. She stays behind, scrolling through her phone. This might be our only chance.
"Stay here," I tell Tessa. "I'm going to talk to Roddy."
Roddy knows of me, like he does all his regulars.
We've exchanged nods, the occasional word, but I’ve always kept it casual.
Just another guy who shows up, keeps to himself, doesn't cause trouble. I’ve made a point of not drawing attention.
What he doesn’t know is I’ve quietly stepped in several times—helped women who looked scared or too far gone.
Never got caught. Never made a scene. Just got them out.
If he suspected me of doing any of that, he’d have banned me a long time ago. Privacy is his currency, and he deals in it like gold. He doesn’t tolerate threats to it.
And that same obsession with discretion might just work in my favor right now.
Especially if I make it about protecting his reputation.
I knock on his office door and he opens it.
“Hello,” he says slowly. “You may have gotten turned around. This area’s off-limits.”
“I know. But I’ve got information you’re going to want to hear.”
He doesn’t open the door any wider. Just studies me. “Is that right?”
“Yeah,” I nod. “It concerns the club. And your reputation.”
A pause. Then, “Go on.”
I step into his office. He moves to his desk, leans against it.
"What's this about?"
"The blonde in the gold mask," I say. "Out there with you. How long has she been coming here?"
His expression doesn't change, but I see the calculation in his eyes. "Why do you want to know?"
"Because I think she pulled security footage from a few weeks ago and gave it to someone outside the club, exposing them."
Roddy's jaw tightens. "That's a serious accusation."
"It's the truth. If she has access to your system, if she's been taking footage and distributing it, you have a right to know."
He's quiet for a long moment, then sighs and moves to his computer. He pulls up something, scrolls through, and his face darkens.
"Son of a bitch," he says. "She accessed the security room. Late at night, on Halloween, after I'd left."
There it is. Proof.
"I’ll take care of this," he says. “If this gets out, if people think their privacy isn't protected here…"
"I understand. I won’t say a word."
“This never should have happened,” Roddy says.
“I agree.”
He closes out of the screen and storms past me, yanking the door open.
I follow him out, and Tessa looks up the second she sees me.
“What did he say?” she asks.
I nod over to the bar where Vanessa is standing. She turns just in time to see Roddy bearing down on her. Vanessa’s smile falters. Her face drains of color.
He lifts a hand and gestures sharply to one of the bouncers.
The man moves fast. Within seconds, he’s at Vanessa’s side, gripping her arm. She jerks back, but he leans in, whispers something.
She pales further, eyes darting frantically around the room. People are watching now.
Tessa presses in close beside me. “That’s it, then? Was it her? It’s taken care of?”
I nod. “A guy like Roddy doesn’t like being blindsided. She’s not going to try anything else.”
Tessa swallows, but her relief is short-lived. “What about Derek? He still has the video.”
“He hasn’t done anything with it,” I cut in. “It’s been weeks.”
“That doesn’t mean he won’t,” she says.
I rest a hand on her lower back. “We’ll deal with him if we need to, but for now, let’s get the hell out of here.”
She hesitates, glancing back toward the bar where Vanessa is being quietly escorted through the side exit.