Chapter 12
NYAH
By the time the others arrived, the party was in full swing. Music played, drinks flowed, and pizza was on its way up after Larry buzzed in the delivery man. I hurried to the door with Karl behind me, determined not to let him pay.
I opened the door with my back turned, one arm outstretched for the pizza, the other fending off Karl.
Suddenly, a hand landed on top of mine.
“What the…?” I turned to see Caleb—and a brunette in a red dress—standing outside my door. I yanked my hand back like I’d been burned. “I thought you were the pizza guy!”
Dressed in skinny charcoal jeans and a black crew-neck sweater, he grinned. “Well… I’m not.”
The brunette rolled her eyes.
Karl finally broke the silence. “Hi! I’m Karl. Why don’t you come in? The party is inside.”
The pizza arrived a minute later. Determined to enjoy myself, I opened the boxes and invited everyone to dig in. Caleb introduced himself and his date, Sarah, and they mingled easily with my friends.
After a few tequila shots, Elle started twirling. Deciding to head to the club, Karl called an Uber and left with Donna and Mitch, leaving me stuck with Caleb and Sarah.
Caleb had been tapping something into his phone. “Here comes the car,” he said, nodding in the direction of headlights cruising slowly towards him. “I’ll sit in the front, I guess—unless you want to squeeze three-abreast in the back, Nyah?”
The car purred up beside them. It was sleek, black, and distinctly European, and probably cost more than my apartment.
“I… You hired a car?”
“Something like that,” Caleb said, holding the door open.
It was a ten-minute ride, and the driver must have been waiting for them for... what, two hours? The opulence was mind-boggling.
Sarah folded her long legs into the back and slid across with the practiced ease of what was probably a great many red-carpet arrivals.
The black leather seat beckoned me. “We could have just gotten a cab.”
Caleb shrugged. “We could have. But this way I know we’ll be comfortable and safe.”
And you get to flaunt your money.
“It’s just a car, Nyah,” Caleb said. “You paid for pizza—thank you, by the way—so let me pay for the cab.”
“Fine.” I got in, bracing for the chill of leather on my bare legs, but was delighted to discover the seat was heated.
Caleb climbed into the front. “Thank you, Taylor.”
“Just the three of you, Mr. Evans?” the driver asked, glancing in the rear-view mirror at me.
“Just the three of us.”
It seemed innocent enough, but it was difficult for me not to take affront at the obvious reference to my datelessness. Not that I wanted to be Caleb’s date, but Elle had told him I needed a dance partner, and still, he’d chosen to bring someone.
I glanced at the achingly beautiful Sarah in my peripheral vision. Part of me was delighted that Caleb hadn’t made the presumption that he’d be my date, but the other part was... well, it wasn’t envious, but it sure wasn’t happy for him, either.
As the driver pulled out into traffic, I leaned forward to speak to him through the gap between the front seats. “Taylor, is it? Do you know where we’re going?”
“Yes, ma’am. Boudoir.” Taylor gave me a nod in the rear-view. “Have you there in no time. Would you like some music?”
“No, thank you.”
“As you wish.”
Four seconds of silence was about all I could take. “Actually—”
Taylor touched a button on the steering wheel, and light jazz trickled softly from what felt like a hundred hidden speakers.
I settled back into the sumptuous leather. “This is a beautiful car,” I said, more content to talk to the driver than to Caleb or Sarah. “Is it yours, or do you work for a car service?”
“Not mine, ma’am, but the boss lets me drive it like it was. I drove my wife down to Washington last weekend and through the San Juan Islands.”
“That sounds lovely,” Nyah said. “I would have thought the weekend was prime time for a hire car service. He must be boss of the year if he let you take the car. Or is it a she?”
Taylor glanced in the mirror and gave me an amused smile. “He’s a he, ma’am, and he does have his moments of generosity.”
A red-painted fingernail touched my knee. I followed it back up to Sarah, who pointed discreetly at Caleb and mouthed, ‘He’s the boss.’
I went cold. If it were possible to die from embarrassment, I would have proved it in the next few seconds. I gave the seat in front of her a gentle shove. “How long were you going to let me go on?”
Caleb chuckled. “I was going to step in if you tried to hire him, but only to make sure he didn’t fleece you on insurance.”
“Sorry, ma’am,” Taylor said, wincing at my humiliation. “My wife and I work full-time for Mr. Evans. This is his car.”
I fell silent, but Sarah picked up the slack and kept gabbling with Caleb the whole way. By the time Taylor pulled up to the front of the club, my cheeks had cooled enough that they didn’t sting when I stepped out into the brisk Vancouver evening.
Downtown Vancouver at night had a certain charm. The streetlights twinkled in the night sky as people filled the streets, heading out to party, leaving their troubles behind. Lakeshore could be seen in the distance, and I felt the cool breeze coming off the water.
Elle and Donna’s Uber had beaten us there, and they beckoned me from a position halfway down a long line of club-goers to cut in line with them.
Caleb and Sarah, meanwhile, had gone straight to the front of the queue and, after a quick word with the bouncer, signalled the others to skip ahead.
Elle and Donna shrugged at each other, laughed, then grabbed their husbands, hooked one arm each in mine, and hurried forward through the velvet rope the bouncer was holding aside.
I felt envious glares from the queue prickling against my back. Why did Caleb have to continually show off his influence? Would it hurt him to wait in line like a regular person? I kept my chin up anyway, even though I could feel judgment pressing in from all sides.
Elle caught me rolling my eyes.
“Relax, Nyah. Have fun tonight and forget about him. We rarely get this kind of opportunity. Please, just enjoy it.”
I nodded, even though I didn’t trust myself to enjoy anything with Caleb in the same room.
The club was dimly lit despite the ornate U-shaped chandeliers hanging overhead. Packed to capacity, we were led to a private table bearing a Reserved sign—presumably arranged by Caleb—which already had a bottle of vodka chilling in an ice bucket.
“I called ahead when we were at the apartment,” Caleb explained to Karl. “It’s the weekend, so I knew it would be crowded.”
Everyone thanked him. I muttered my thanks along with the others. Elle kissed him on the cheek, beaming.
Karl didn’t seem to mind. He leaned in and whispered in my ear, “I want her to have fun tonight. She deserves it, and she needs it.”
I smiled at him, then headed toward the bar to get myself a glass of wine.
Caleb caught my arm. The contact sent a startling jolt through me.
“Hey, there’s vodka on the table, or if you want something else, we’ll get a bottle brought over. There’s no need to go to the bar.”
I yanked my arm free, annoyed that this was the second time he’d touched me without my permission. “I don’t like vodka, and I prefer getting my own drinks.”
Donna came up beside me while I was ordering at the bar.
“He’s trying hard to be nice, Nyah.” She touched my arm softly. “You were rude to him just now, you know.”
I exhaled slowly, forcing myself to unclench. Not wanting to start a fight, I apologized and told her I’d try to be nice. Try being the operative word.
Caleb ordered another round of shots, which were brought to the table. After that, Donna and Elle grabbed me and dragged me onto the dance floor, with their husbands following after chugging their beers.
The music was loud enough to drown out thought. The bass vibrated through my bones.
Glancing back at the table, I saw Caleb standing there, watching in our direction. Is he watching me? Sarah danced around him in circles, but his attention never wavered. The awareness of his gaze nestled low in my stomach, unwelcome and impossible to ignore.
I’d only had three drinks, but they’d gone straight to my head and dulled the growing pain from my shoes. The colourful purple lights were starting to blur together. I let the rhythm take over, losing myself in movement, in heat, in the anonymity of bodies.
Before I knew it, Elle leaned in. “Almost 3 a.m.” Then she and Karl headed back toward the table.
I nodded vaguely, aware enough to know I shouldn’t trust my balance—or my judgment.
The music thudded through me, heavy and insistent, vibrating up through the soles of my feet. I closed my eyes, letting myself drift—just for a moment—when the air around me shifted.
I opened my eyes.
Two sweaty men had moved in close. One stepped directly in front of me, his grin loose and confident, blocking my view of the dance floor.
The other slid in behind me, close enough that I could feel the heat of his body through my dress.
The space I’d been dancing in—my small pocket of freedom—collapsed.
My stomach dropped, but I didn’t freeze. I took a measured step back, already scanning for an exit, already calculating. I could handle this if I needed to. I’d handled worse.
There was just nowhere to go.
I shouldn’t have had so much to drink. I shouldn’t have put myself in this position. But more than that—I didn’t want attention. I didn’t want raised voices, flashing phones, a moment clipped and posted and stripped of context. Going viral for the wrong reason wasn’t something I could afford.
“Hey,” the man in front said, leaning in far too close. His breath smelled like beer and something sour. “You look like you could use some company.”
I forced a polite, controlled smile and tried to slip sideways past him. His arm moved casually, blocking me again.
My pulse quickened, but my face stayed neutral.
The man behind me brushed my lower back. Not grabbing. Not yet. Just enough to test the line.
Every muscle in my body tensed. I angled my shoulders, preparing to push through if I had to, but the man behind me leaned closer, his chest pressing against my spine.
“I’m just dancing,” I said, my voice firm, carrying without tipping into a scene.
The man in front chuckled. “So are we.”
The lights blurred at the edges. The noise dulled. Awareness settled in—the instinct that I was being sized up, weighed, and decided on.
And then—
The man behind me shifted closer.
And suddenly the pressure vanished.
An arm slid around my back. Firm. Certain. Unmistakably not theirs.
I sucked in a breath, startled.
A solid presence stepped in behind me, close enough that my shoulders brushed his chest.
Caleb.
He placed himself between the man behind me and me. His hand stayed at my back, not pushing, not pulling, just there, anchoring me.
“I’ve got her,” Caleb said, calm and low.
Relief hit me fast and all at once.
The man in front bristled. “We were just talking.”
Caleb leaned in a fraction, his presence suddenly immense.
I couldn’t see his face, but I felt the tension roll off him, coiled and dangerous beneath the surface.
“She doesn’t look interested,” he said evenly.
For a split second, no one moved.
Then the man scoffed, muttered something under his breath, and stepped back. The one behind me hesitated longer, but Caleb shifted again, broader, unmistakably protective.
They melted back into the crowd.
I hadn’t realized how much energy I’d been holding until Caleb’s arm loosened and I let myself lean into him just a little. His hand slid to my waist, steadying without comment.
“You okay?” he asked softly, close enough that only I could hear.
I nodded. “Yeah. I was handling it. I just didn’t want… attention.”
“I know,” he said, without judgment.
The music shifted, the bass softening into a slower rhythm. He didn’t move away, and neither did I. His body stayed angled protectively, but his hold was relaxed now, giving me space to decide.
When I tilted my head back slightly, my temple brushed his chest—solid, warm, grounding.
The DJ let the final echo of the last song dissolve, and then the first notes of Chantal Kreviazuk’s melody, “Feels Like Home,” floated out over the crowd.
“Dance?” he asked quietly.
I nodded before I could think better of it.
He turned me gently until I was facing him. The club faded into background noise as his hands settled at my waist—careful and warm.
I rested my hands against his chest. The first thing I noticed was how solid he felt beneath my palms—muscle, heat, and a slow, controlled rise and fall as he breathed.
The second was how tall he was—and how carefully he held himself, like he was aware of every inch of space between us and determined not to take more than I gave.
My breath evened out slowly, my heartbeat syncing to the calm rhythm beneath his sweater.
We swayed, slow and easy, like this wasn’t new—like our bodies already knew how to move together. My forehead hovered near his collarbone, close enough to catch the scent of his cologne—leather, tea, and something warm beneath it.
The panic drained away, leaving behind a tiredness. I rested my head against him, the alcohol and adrenaline finally giving way. His hand slid up my back, spreading there, holding me without expectation.
I closed my eyes.
For a while, there was nothing but the music, the strength of him, and the realization that I hadn’t felt this protected in a very long time without asking for it.
His chin dipped, just barely brushing the top of my head.
“You’re safe. I’ve got you, and I’m not letting go anytime soon,” he murmured.
I nodded, and my thoughts drifted—out of the club, out of the noise—home. Pajamas. Dim lights. Lucas laughing as we chased each other through the park. His small hand in mine. The weight of him asleep against my shoulder.
I breathed out slowly and let myself rest. My thoughts blurred and then softened and faded, the world dimming as I finally tipped over the edge and let the darkness claim me, with him still holding me upright.