Chapter Eleven - Zoe
I show up at the club in a tight dress, determined to prove a point.
The kind of point that’s been rattling around in my head for days now. I’m tired. Tired of Lukin’s silent presence in my life—of the flowers, the bodyguards, the constant reminders of someone who doesn’t have the decency to explain himself.
It’s messing with my head. And I won’t let it anymore.
He hasn’t reached out since that time in the garden. Instead, he’s sending huge bouquets of flowers and trailing me silently. Why won’t he show his face? I’m done walking on eggshells
Tonight, I’m not looking for trouble, but I’m not here to play it safe either. I’m alone, and I’m not about to let the night be ruled by anything but me.
The moment I walk through the door, I feel the eyes of the men on me. They follow, tracking my every movement. I know why. It’s the tight dress, the bold lipstick—everything I chose to wear tonight. I know it’s drawing attention. I want it. I need it.
I push through the crowd, heading straight for the bar. I don’t look around for him—not yet. I won’t let him have that power over me. Tonight, this place is mine.
The bartender doesn’t waste time. A nod, a drink poured. I down it in one go, the burn of alcohol sliding down my throat. I feel my body loosen, the tension of the past few days finally starting to melt away.
“Another?” the bartender asks, but I shake my head. I’m not here for the drinks. I’m here for something else.
“Hello.” A deep baritone calls from behind me.
I turn, smiling when my gaze meets the eye candy standing a few feet away. He’s tall. Handsome. His smile is easy, too confident, but it doesn’t bother me. I’m not here to get into a deep conversation, I’m just here for fun.
He leans in, his voice low. “I’m Dennis,” he says smoothly, his smile widening. “Let me buy you a drink.”
I glance at the bartender, who’s already pouring another glass. Dennis slides a bill across the counter. I feel the weight of his eyes on me, his attention like a tangible thing. It’s flattering, in a way. The night feels like it’s shifting, like I’m finally in control of what happens next.
“Thanks,” I reply, and without hesitating, I take the drink from the bartender’s hand. “Sure, why not?”
He grins, that smug, charming look of a man who thinks he’s already won. He’s so sure of himself, and it’s actually kind of amusing. He extends his hand to me.
“Dance with me?” he asks, his voice carrying a challenge I can’t resist.
I pause for just a moment, feeling the pulse of the music around us. I can’t stop the laugh that escapes me. It’s not nervous, not hesitant. It’s liberating, like I’m finally shrugging off the weight of the past few days.
“Fuck it,” I mutter to myself, before stepping forward, taking his hand.
I down the rest of my drink in one quick motion, the fire of the liquor searing through me, and follow him toward the dance floor. The crowd parts around us, the beat of the music vibrating through the floor, through my bones.
I let go. Let my body move, let the music take over. Dennis wraps his arms around me, pulling me close, his hands sliding down my back as we sway to the rhythm. I don’t care anymore. I don’t care about him. I don’t care about anything but this moment, this freedom.
For the first time in days, I’m not thinking about Lukin. Not thinking about the man who’s haunted my thoughts, who’s made me feel like I’m losing control of myself.
Tonight, I’m in the arms of a very handsome man, letting him sway me to the music. I have enough time to regret my actions tomorrow.
Dennis’s hand slides lower on my body as we move to the beat, a little too bold for my liking.
At first, I’m irritated by the chances he’s taking, but I don’t push him away.
It doesn’t matter. This is just for a moment, just to feel something other than confusion and frustration.
Just until I’m satisfied—until I’ve taken back some control.
His grip tightens, and he leans in close.
“You dance too sexily.” His breath is hot, his words too easy, and I can’t help but laugh—loudly, maybe a bit too loudly. He takes it as a cue to lean even closer.
“Fuck, you make me so hard.” His voice is low and teasing, but I keep laughing, louder than before, trying to drown out everything else.
I’m not here for a deep connection. I’m not here to go home with anyone either. But I’m willing to play along, for now.
Then, everything shifts.
I feel it.
His gaze.
It’s like a physical weight pressing into me from across the dance floor. The air thickens, the music fades just slightly, and I feel my heart skip in my chest. For a second, I can’t breathe. I don’t need to look up to know who it is.
Lukin.
I follow the direction of the heat and meet his gaze. He’s up in the VIP section, separated from me by a wall of glass.
His eyes—dark, intense, cutting through the noise like they always have, locking on to mine like he’s the only thing in the room that matters.
I freeze, my body tensing. I don’t look away, but I stop laughing, my smile faltering. I can feel the heat of his gaze from across the floor, even though the crowd between us should have been enough to block him out. But nothing can stop it. He’s everywhere.
Dennis doesn’t notice my shift. He keeps talking, keeps making his moves, but I can’t focus on him anymore. I can’t focus on anything but Lukin, standing across the room in the shadows, his presence heavy, suffocating.
As I stare at Lukin across the room, I notice several women approach him.
They move with practiced ease, all flirtation and smiles, and I can see them touching him, their hands sliding across his chest, his arm, getting too close.
I watch as he breaks our gaze, turning sideways to kiss one of the women.
My stomach twists, and I don’t know why. It’s irrational, but the feeling catches me off guard, sharp and sudden.
Why should I care? He’s nothing to me.
But the tightness in my chest is unmistakable. The way he kissed her, the way he allowed her to get that close, makes something dark stir inside me. It’s a sick, possessive feeling that I hate, but I can’t shake it.
I turn to Dennis, my gaze darting to him for some kind of distraction. I laugh a little too loudly at something he says and brush my lips against his in a gesture that feels more automatic than real. It’s meant to push the thoughts of Lukin away, to convince myself that I’m in control.
But Dennis is taken aback for a moment, surprised by my sudden shift in attention, but quickly recovers, leaning in and kissing me back.
His lips are warm, soft, but everything about it feels wrong, as if my body is betraying me.
I freeze, caught in the act of trying to forget, but all I can think about is him—Lukin, his kiss, the way he holds himself, the way I want him to look at me the way he looks at those women.
I start to pull away, ready to push Dennis off me, when suddenly, he’s yanked from my lips, harshly, almost violently. My breath hitches in my chest as I watch him stumble backward, looking completely shocked and confused.
And then, before I can even process what’s happening, I feel a hand on my shoulder, spinning me around.
Lukin.
His arm moves with lightning speed, and before I can process it, his fist connects with Dennis’s face, sending him sprawling to the floor. The crowd around us gasps, some people pulling back, others watching in a mix of shock and excitement.
Dennis groans as he tries to push himself up, but Lukin’s already stepping over him, his presence like a storm that’s knocked everything else aside.
“What the hell?!” I shout, my voice rising with panic and disbelief. “Stop it, Lukin!”
But he doesn’t listen. He doesn’t even acknowledge me as he grabs my arm, his grip unrelenting, and starts pulling me through the crowd.
I try to yank my arm away, my heart thudding in my chest as I struggle against him.
The crowd parts like they know better than to intervene, their eyes flicking between us but never making a move to stop it.
“Let go of me!” I shout, my voice shaking with fury and fear. “What the hell is wrong with you?!”
He doesn’t say a word, his jaw clenched tight, his expression dark and unreadable. He pulls me through the crowd, the space between us growing tighter with every step, his hand still gripping my arm like a vise. People are staring, but no one says anything. No one tries to stop him.
When we reach the door, his driver is already standing outside, waiting by the car. Before I can even process what’s happening, Lukin shoves me into the backseat. The door slams shut behind me before I can think.
I barely have a moment to react, my pulse racing, my chest tight with disbelief. “What the hell are you doing?” I demand, my voice frantic as I try to sit up straight in the seat. “Why are you taking me? What is this?”
He doesn’t answer. He just slides into the seat beside me, his eyes still fixed forward, fury radiating off him. The car pulls away before I can say anything else, the sound of the tires on the pavement the only noise in the air.
I sit there, silent, my heart still pounding. I want to scream at him, ask him what he thinks he’s doing, demand answers. But all I can do is sit there, angry and irritated. I’m not scared, because I know he’ll never hurt me, but how dare he control me like this? I’m sick of it.
Lukin doesn’t care. He doesn’t care about my questions, about my anger. He’s silent, letting the weight of his actions speak for him. He turns his head toward the window, as if he can’t bear to look at me.
Eventually, the car comes to a stop, the engine purring softly before it falls into complete silence.
I look up through the windshield, my breath catching as I see the towering high-rise building ahead.
It’s sleek, cold, and imposing, just like everything else in his world.
The kind of place that’s designed to make you feel small, insignificant, and utterly controlled.