Chapter 30 Joel
Joel
I keep hold of her hand as we step through the entrance of the Upper Tier, past the bouncer who barely glances at me before lifting the rope. The bass from below still pulses through the floors, but up here, the sound is muffled, the air heavier.
She doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t pull back, but I feel the awareness in her grip. She’s taking in the dim lighting, the sleek black booths, the small private rooms tucked into the back. She doesn’t know what this place is.
But I do.
I know exactly what kind of things happen up here. I could feel it that first night.
It’s not just a VIP section. It’s where people disappear into booths and private rooms, where the drinks are stronger, the lights are lower, and inhibitions blur into nothing. It’s where people come when they don’t want to be seen—or when they want to be watched.
There are assumptions about what happens up here.
I also know that’s not why I brought her. She means too much for that.
Anna’s fingers twitch slightly against mine, but she doesn’t ask about the vibe, doesn’t pull her hand away. She just keeps looking. Taking it all in.
I don’t give her time to second-guess.
Instead, I tighten my hold and lead her toward a corner booth, away from the noise, the press of bodies, the expectation hanging in the air.
She slides into the seat, and I take the spot beside her instead of across from her, close enough that my knee brushes against hers.
Her eyes meet mine, dark and unreadable.
I search her face, looking for something—hesitation, regret, the instinct to run—but it’s not there. She watches me, quiet but steady, her eyes flicking over my face like she’s trying to piece something together.
Neither of us speaks.
And maybe we don’t need to.
Because this is real. It has to be.
But I need to make sure.
I reach for her, brushing the backs of my fingers against her cheek, then crook my index finger to tilt her chin up. Her breath catches, her lips part just slightly, and then she moves toward me, meeting me halfway.
The kiss isn’t rushed.
It’s slow, deep—a confirmation that rolls through every fiber of my being.
Her fingers find my shirt again, twisting in the fabric like she’s grounding herself. Like she’s grounding us. However, it sparks my body, causing blood to rush everywhere all at once.
I shift, pressing in, swallowing the little sigh she exhales against my mouth. Her lips are soft, warm, and she tastes like the drinks from earlier, like something I could get drunk on.
She doesn’t pull away.
Doesn’t stop me.
And that? That’s what kills me the most.
Because I think she wants this just as much as I do.
When she finally does break away, her forehead stays close, brushing against mine. She exhales, something soft, something real.
“What the hell is this?” she whispers.
I don’t have an answer for that.
I only know what it feels like.
Like something I’m not willing to lose again.
So I tell her the only thing I know to be true. “It’s us.”
She pulls back just enough to look at me, tilting her head. “That’s not an answer, Price.”
I smirk. “Sure it is.”
She rolls her eyes but doesn’t move away or tell me to fuck off.
And that? That’s the biggest win of my fucking life.
She leans back against the booth, her body still angled toward me, like she’s not willing to put more distance between us. I keep my arm stretched along the back of the seat, not touching, not pushing, just being here with her.
Honestly, I don’t feel like I have to push for something more.
Because she’s here.
And she’s not running. And I can work with that.
Anna lets out a slow breath, studying me again, her gaze softer now, still searching. “You brought me up here to talk?”
I huff out a small laugh. “You sound surprised.”
“I am.” The most adorable half-smile graces her lips and I think I might have just died until she says, “I thought this was your sneaky way of getting me alone.”
I grin. “I don’t need to be sneaky, Ace. When I want you alone, you’ll be begging me for it.”
Her cheeks flush, but she covers it well, rolling her eyes again as she looks away, shaking her head.
“I mean, we might have to work up to sword-crossing, but I could be convinced to try anything once,” I tease, loving the color that blooms across her cheeks. It’s my new favorite pastime.
“Jesus Christ,” she mutters, pressing her palms over her face.
It’s easy between us now.
It shouldn’t be.
After everything, after years of distance and fights and denying this thing between us—it shouldn’t be this easy.
But it is.
And I don’t want to let it go.
I exhale, running a hand over my jaw. “I do actually need to tell you something.”
That pulls her back, her amusement and embarrassment fading just slightly.
I sit forward, resting my elbows on the table, fingers threading together.
“The tour,” I say, watching her closely. I hold my breath, hoping…
Her brow furrows slightly, head tilting. “What tour?”
I drag a hand through my hair. “The one I just got offered.”
She stills.
I feel the shift in her.
The way she locks her expression down, her fingers pressing together.
“You got offered a tour? Where? When? You just found out?” She says her words in a rush, as her lashes flutter against her cheeks.
“I just found out. Tonight. Right before the set. I wanted you to know before—before this goes any further.”
Her lips part slightly. “Joel.”
I let out a slow breath. “It’s a big deal, Ace. Europe. Two months. It’s the biggest gig I’ve ever been offered. It could lead to more.”
She swallows, nods slowly.
But I don’t stop there.
“London offered me something else.”
That gets her attention.
Her gaze sharpens, her body going still. “What?”
I lean forward, holding her eyes. “A few more shows at Nocté. If I want it.”
She exhales slowly, absorbing it. “So you have two choices.”
I nod. “Yeah.”
She watches me, searching my face. “And what? You can’t make a decision?”
I shake my head. “Not without you.”
She breathes in, and I feel the weight of it, the weight of us, the weight of everything that has led us to this moment.
But then—she surprises me.
She lifts her chin, meeting my eyes, and says, “You have to go.”
I blink, caught off guard. “What?”
She shrugs one shoulder, the tiniest smile playing at her lips. “You have to go, Joel. It’s two months. We’ve waited this long, haven’t we?”
Something stirs in my chest, something sharp and unexpected. “So you’re not worried?”
Her smile lingers. “Oh, I’m definitely worried.” She leans in slightly. “I’ve seen you without supervision. You’re a menace.”
I laugh, shaking my head. “That’s bullshit.”
She smirks. “Is it, though?”
I shake my head again, but my chest feels lighter than it has in days. Weeks. Maybe years.
And then—fuck it.
I shift closer, dropping my voice, watching her closely. “You could come with me.”
Anna blinks, her expression unreadable at first.
I watch it register.
The way her breath catches. The way her fingers curl slightly against the table.
She doesn’t answer right away.
For a half-second, my stomach free-falls.
Fuck. What if she says no? What if I just laid it all out there, and she doesn’t want it?
What if I just proved I want more, and she’s not ready?
She swallows, then whispers, “What?”
I hold her gaze, steady and sure. “You can work on the road, right? I’ve seen you, you could practically run your whole business from your phone. But you have that badass laptop and if you wanted, you could even join me. Be a part of the music again. Anna, you’ve gotta miss the music.”
She blinks, opens her mouth, then closes it again.
And I realize—she didn’t see this coming.
All this time, all these moments, she didn’t think I’d ask her to come with me.
Like she thought she wasn’t part of the equation.
Like she thought she was something I’d have to leave behind.
Fuck that.
“Please come with me, Ace,” I say again, softer this time. “Stay as long as you want. As long as you can. I need time with you.”
I watch her face, the flicker of emotions playing across her features—shock, hesitation, something unreadable, something softer.
And then—
She kisses me.
Not out of heat.
Not out of desperation.
Not to distract from what we’re saying.
But because she knows.
Because she believes me.
Because maybe she wants this as much as I do.
She pulls back just enough to whisper against my lips. “Come home with me.”
I swallow, pulse hammering behind my ribs because her words mean everything. “You mean to our place?”
She groans, pushing at my chest, but I catch her hand, linking my fingers through hers.
“Shut up get us an Uber,” she mutters, but she’s smiling.
She doesn’t rush to fill the silence.
Neither do I.
It stretches between us, thick with everything we’re still learning how to say.
Her fingers are still tangled in my shirt, her breath still a little uneven. She’s watching me the way she did downstairs, like she’s trying to figure out if this is real—if we’re real.
I’m still trying to figure it out myself.
Beyond our booth, people drift toward the back rooms, slipping past heavy curtains and disappearing without a second glance. Some barely make it that far, lost in whispered conversations, in hands that wander too easily, in promises that won’t make it past the night.
She notices, but doesn’t ask the questions lingering in her eyes. Anna’s smart. I’m sure she’ll come to the same conclusion I did about this place.
Her fingers still curled into my shirt, her lips still pink from kissing me, her body still angled toward mine like she doesn’t want to pull away.
I brush my thumb over her knuckles, just once, just enough to feel her warmth. “So?”
She tilts her head. “So?”
I smirk. “Are you coming with me?”
Her breath catches.
I watch her lips part, watch the way her chest rises and falls too fast, watch her consider it.
She exhales, pressing her tongue to the inside of her cheek, gaze flicking down for just a second before she looks back at me.
And then, she grins.
Not wide.
Not big.
Just enough.
“I said come home with me, didn’t I?” she murmurs, voice soft but teasing.
My stomach fucking flips.
I lean in, brushing my lips against hers, speaking against her mouth. “Yeah, but I’m greedy, Ace.”
She rolls her eyes, but she’s still smiling, still here, still choosing me.
I tighten my grip on her fingers, lacing them with mine.
Her voice dips lower, teasing but threaded with something more. “I’ll think on it.”
I arch a brow. “On what?”
Her smirk deepens as she leans in, just close enough that her breath brushes my lips. “On how fast you can get that Uber and get me undressed.”
Fuck.
That’s what she meant about going home? Wait, what?
Home = undressing = TONIGHT?
Am I dead?
Did I die? I didn’t didn’t I? She murdered me and this is my brain trying to create a better memory before I give in to oblivion.
I grin, my pulse pounding against my ribcage as her palm skims my thigh, driving the point straight to my brain—and everywhere else.
Okay, I don’t care if I’m dead. RIP Joel Price. He died a happy man.
Enough talking. We’re doing this.
“Challenge accepted,” I blurt out, needing to be out of this booth and away from this club.
And I don’t waste another second.