Chapter Three The Club, the Trap, and the Almost Kiss
Makayla did not sleep.
She sat in Jarvis Draven’s office until the sky outside the tall windows went from black to bruised purple to the weak gray of morning. Her laptop stayed closed on the table in front of her, heavy with the video file she had refused to open.
The name haunted her even with the screen shut.
Auntie Zella had fallen asleep in the east lounge after telling Makayla three different times to rest her eyes. Trevon had taken the laptop for a malware scan, promising he would check the file without playing the contents. Makayla made him swear twice.
Jarvis had stayed too.
That bothered her.
He moved around the office like a man built for sleepless nights. Quiet calls. Short answers. A folder slid across his desk. A security feed checked. Coffee poured black and forgotten. He never seemed fully tired, only colder with each passing hour.
Makayla hated people who could function without falling apart.
It felt unfair.
By nine-thirty, Trevon returned with her laptop under one arm and a grim look on his face.
Makayla stood too fast. “Is the file real?”
Trevon looked at Jarvis first.
Makayla snapped, “Do not look at him before you answer me.”
Trevon shifted his attention to her. “The file is safe to open. No malware.”
Her heart kicked. “Did you watch it?”
“No.”
“You sure?”
“Yes.”
Makayla studied his face. Trevon had one of those quiet faces that did not give away much, but something in his tone felt solid. She believed him before she wanted to.
Jarvis came from behind his desk. “Metadata?”
Trevon set the laptop on the table. “Old device. Original creation date lines up with the night Amira reported the incident. But the file was copied recently. Two days ago.”
Makayla’s breath caught. “Copied from where?”
“Can’t tell yet.”
“Can you trace it?”
“I can try. Whoever sent it knew how to strip the easy stuff.”
Jarvis’s mouth tightened. “Selene.”
Makayla looked at him. “You don’t know that.”
“I know her style.”
“You keep saying that like it makes this better.”
“It makes it readable.”
Makayla reached for the laptop.
Jarvis’s hand came down on top of it before she could open it.
Her eyes lifted slowly.
“Move your hand.”
“Not before we go to Obsidian Hall.”
Makayla laughed, low and dangerous. “You still think you give orders around here.”
“I think if you watch that video now, you won’t walk into that meeting clear.”
“Maybe I don’t want to be clear. Maybe I want to be mad.”
“Mad makes noise. We need quiet.”
“I’m not one of your little guards.”
“No,” Jarvis said. “You’re louder.”
Trevon made a sound that might have been a cough.
Makayla cut her eyes at him. “You laughing?”
“No.”
“You thought about it.”
“I think about lots of things I don’t do.”
Jarvis removed his hand from the laptop, but his eyes stayed on Makayla. “You can open it. I won’t stop you.”
“That’s smart of you.”
“But if you do, they win the first round today.”
Makayla hated the way her fingers froze on the edge of the laptop. She hated that he had learned which words would reach her. Not soft words. Not comforting ones.
Strategy.
Control.
Win.
Her sister deserved justice, not a panic reaction.
Makayla pulled her hand back. “Fine. But after Obsidian Hall, I’m watching it.”
Jarvis nodded once. “After.”
Trevon placed a black folder on the table. “Then we need to talk through the plan.”
Makayla sat, even though her whole body felt wired. “The plan is simple. Vasha calls Renzo. Renzo shows up thinking she has me scared and ready to meet. I get close enough to hear what he knows. You two lurk in corners looking expensive and suspicious.”
Trevon stared at her.
Jarvis said, “Absolutely not.”
Makayla leaned back. “Which part hurt your feelings?”
“The part where you make yourself bait.”
“You wanted me involved.”
“I wanted your access.”
“My access is me.”
“Your access can be your phone, your login, your records.”
“My access is my face, my voice, my mouth, and the fact that whoever sent that message asked for the girl with the mouth.”
Jarvis’s eyes narrowed. “That line was meant to provoke you.”
“It did.”
“That doesn’t mean obey it.”
Makayla stood. “No, it means whoever is doing this wants to see me react. So I’m going to give them something to look at while I look back.”
Jarvis stared at her.
The room tightened.
Trevon cleared his throat. “She’s not wrong.”
Jarvis turned slowly. “Excuse me?”
Trevon did not flinch. “They invited her because they want control. If she doesn’t show, they control the next move. If she does show under our terms, we get eyes on whoever reacts to her.”
Makayla pointed at Trevon. “See? Right hand got sense.”
“I don’t like it,” Jarvis said.
“You don’t have to like it.”
“I have to manage it.”
Makayla stepped closer to him. “You keep forgetting. I am not yours to manage.”
Something moved in Jarvis’s eyes.
It was quick.
Dark.
Possessive.
Makayla saw it and wished she had not, because her body reacted before her pride could stop it. Heat slipped low in her stomach, sharp and unwanted.
Jarvis’s voice dropped. “Today, you are.”
The words should have made her angry.
They did.
They also did something else, and that made her even angrier.
Makayla lifted her chin. “Say that again and I’ll make sure you need dental work before lunch.”
Trevon looked toward the ceiling.
Jarvis leaned in slightly. “You always threaten men you’re attracted to?”
Makayla’s mouth opened.
Nothing came out.
That made Jarvis’s mouth curve.
She recovered fast. “You always mistake disgust for attraction?”
“No.”
“You sure?”
“I know the difference.”
“Then learn it again.”
Trevon stepped between them with the folder. “Before this becomes whatever it’s trying to become, we need wardrobe, entry points, and comms.”
Makayla took the folder and dropped back into the chair.
“Thank you, Trevon.”
“You’re welcome.”
Jarvis looked at him. “Don’t encourage her.”
“She came encouraged.”
Makayla smiled for the first time all morning. “I like him.”
Jarvis said, “That makes one of us.”
Obsidian Hall was not a club in the regular sense.
It was a private event space for rich people who wanted to be seen only by other rich people.
It sat in Morrow Bay’s Pearl District, a stretch of restored buildings, art walls, valet stands, boutique hotels, and restaurants where the menus had no dollar signs.
The day party started at noon, but by eleven-thirty the street outside already looked alive. Luxury cars pulled up one after another. Women stepped out in bright colors and heels too thin for brick sidewalks. Men wore linen sets, designer sunglasses, and smiles that showed teeth but no warmth.
Makayla watched from the back seat of Jarvis’s SUV as Obsidian Hall came into view.
Charcoal-green marble walls framed the entrance. A curved silver logo sat above the valet stand.
The same logo from the fake evidence.
The same wall from the photo.
Her stomach twisted again.
“You good?” Jarvis asked beside her.
Makayla kept her eyes on the building. “I’m perfect.”
“You lie badly when you’re tired.”
“I lie badly when people annoy me.”
“Then I should make you honest.”
She looked at him. “You should make yourself quiet.”
Jarvis’s gaze moved over her.
Makayla had changed in the east lounge bathroom with help from Auntie Zella, who claimed she had not dressed a woman for battle since her cousin’s second divorce hearing.
Makayla wore a fitted cream jumpsuit that hugged her body without looking like she tried too hard, gold hoops, nude heels, and a soft cropped jacket.
Her hair was pulled into a smooth high ponytail that made her cheekbones look sharper. Oversized sunglasses covered her eyes.
She looked expensive.
Untouchable.
Fake calm.
Jarvis had looked at her for three full seconds when she stepped out.
Three seconds was enough.
Now he wore a dark olive shirt, black tailored pants, and no jacket, looking like somebody dangerous pretending to enjoy daylight.
Makayla hated that he looked good in every kind of lighting.
Trevon sat up front, checking his phone. “Vasha’s already inside. She’s at the south bar. Renzo texted her that he’s ten minutes away.”
“Security?” Jarvis asked.
“Two inside as guests. Two outside. One near the service exit. Staff entrance has a camera, but it’s old.”
Makayla adjusted her sunglasses. “What about Calia?”
“No sign yet,” Trevon said.
Jarvis’s face did not change, but Makayla felt his attention sharpen.
“She’ll come,” he said.
Makayla looked at him. “You sound sure.”
“Calia likes to watch people bleed.”
“Lovely taste in hobbies.”
“She’ll want to see whether you look scared.”
Makayla smiled without warmth. “Then she’s about to be disappointed.”
Jarvis glanced at her. “That’s what worries me.”
Before Makayla could answer, Trevon handed her a small earpiece.
She stared at it. “No.”
Jarvis said, “Yes.”
“I’m not putting random technology in my ear.”
“It lets us hear you.”
“Exactly.”
Trevon turned around. “It also lets us know if you’re in trouble.”
Makayla took it from him. “I can scream.”
Jarvis said, “I know.”
She smiled sweetly. “You will too if you keep playing with me.”
Trevon turned back around like he wanted no part of it.
Makayla put the earpiece in.
Jarvis leaned close, checking the placement without touching her. His face was suddenly near hers, his cologne slipping into the space between them. Warm smoke. Dark spice. Trouble in a bottle.
She held still.
“You can hear me?” he asked, voice low.
His voice came through the earpiece and beside her at the same time, making her shiver.
She hated the shiver most of all.
“Yes,” she said.
“Good.”
“Don’t breathe in my ear all day.”
His eyes dropped to her mouth. “Then don’t give me a reason.”
Makayla forgot her comeback for half a second.
Jarvis noticed.
Of course he did.
She looked out the window. “I’m getting out now.”
“Makayla.”
“What?”
“Do not chase. Do not separate from the room. Do not let Renzo touch your phone. Do not drink anything you don’t see poured.”
She looked back at him. “Anything else, Daddy Draven?”
The second the words left her mouth, she regretted them.
Not because she was embarrassed.