Chapter Eleven
Dawn
The parking lot is packed. Neon lights from the bar’s sign flicker off rows of cars, casting a pinkish-red glow over the pavement. Music and laughter spill out from the open doors, a familiar hum of life that makes my shoulders relax for the first time since this morning.
I inhale the warm night air, the scent of salt from the ocean mixing with the faint smokiness of grilled food from the bar’s kitchen. I feel like I can breathe.
“Finally! The prodigal daughter returns.”
Before I can even turn, arms wrap around me, squeezing me tight.
Cassidy smells like coffee and cigarette smoke, the familiar scent grounding me as I let myself sink into her embrace. She hugs me like she’s trying to physically put me back together, as if she can sense the pieces of me that are coming loose.
When she pulls back, her eyes scan me over, lips quirking into a pleased smirk. “Damn. That outfit is a power move.”
I smile, adjusting the strap of my bag. “Is it?”
She gives an exaggerated nod, looping her arm through mine as she steers me toward the entrance. “Oh, absolutely. That skirt? That top? You’re either dressing to intimidate or to impress. Maybe both.”
A small laugh slips out before I can stop it. “Just needed to get out of the house.”
Cassidy hums knowingly but doesn’t push. Instead, she tugs a cigarette from her bag and nods toward the back patio. “I’ll grab our table. You get the drinks?”
“Yeah, sounds good.” I shake my head, amused as she gives a two-finger salute before disappearing around the side of the building.
Inside, the bar is dimly lit, packed with people. The warm glow of old lantern-style fixtures reflects off dark wood, the scent of whiskey and worn leather mingling in the air. I push through the crowd and slip into a space at the counter.
The bartender turns to me. “What can I get you?”
“Two sex on the beach, please.”
A moment later, I have the drinks in hand and weave my way toward the back patio, where Cassidy has already claimed our table tucked in the corner. She grins as I slide her drink across the table.
“Ugh, I’ve missed you.” She says dramatically, lifting her glass. “Cheers to your reappearance from the land of radio silence.”
I chuckle and clink my glass against hers. “It’s been a long couple of weeks.”
She takes a sip, studying me over the rim of her glass. “How’s the job been? It seems like they’ve been keeping you on lockdown.”
I hesitate before answering, rolling my drink between my fingers. “I…” I sigh. “There’s something I need to tell you.”
Cassidy tilts her head. “Okay…”
I grip my glass a little tighter. “I, kind of, maybe, might be seeing someone.”
Cassidy leans in, intrigued but not jumping to conclusions. “Someone?”
I exhale hard. “Nikolai.”
She blinks. For the first time, Cassidy is speechless.
A beat passes. Then another.
Finally, she breathes out a quiet, “What?”
I nod, staring down at my drink. “It just… happened.”
Cassidy sets her glass down. “Okay. Let’s start at the beginning.”
I wet my lips, gathering my thoughts. “Yesterday, he took me to his private beach house.”
Cassidy’s brows lift, but she says nothing, waiting for me to continue.
“He was so different there.” I admit. “Softer. We talked for hours. And then…” I swallow. “It wasn’t just sex, Cass. At least, it didn’t feel that way.”
Cassidy watches me, her expression neutral as I keep going.
“This morning, he was still different. Touching me. Kissing me. Like...” I exhale slowly. “Like maybe it meant something to him, too.”
My fingers tighten slightly around my glass. “And then he left. And I haven’t heard from him since.”
Cassidy exhales, setting her drink down after a slow sip. “And that’s why you’re sitting here looking so good but with such a sad face.”
I huff out a humorless laugh. “I feel like an idiot.”
She leans forward, resting her chin on her hand. “Dawn.” There’s a softness in her voice, but no room for argument. “He’s Nikolai Blackthorn.”
I close my eyes. “I know.”
She doesn’t rush to tell me I’m wrong. She doesn’t say, ‘of course he likes you’ or ‘he’s probably just busy’. She just watches me with a quiet understanding, waiting for me to say it first.
“I should’ve known better.” I murmur.
Cassidy lets the silence settle before she speaks again.
“Look,” she says. “When a man like that looks at you the way he did, it’s easy to believe you’re the exception.
” She hesitates, choosing her next words carefully.
“But playboys don’t change unless they want to.
And you deserve someone who doesn’t make you second-guess where you stand. ”
I nod slowly, my throat tight.
She reaches across the table and squeezes my hand. “No more moping. We’re going to finish our drinks, and then we’re getting some fresh air.”
I blink at her. “Fresh air?”
“Yes,” she says, standing up and holding out her hand. “We’re going for a walk. Come on.”
The boardwalk is quieter than the bar, the rhythmic crash of waves filling the space between our footsteps. The air is cool against my skin, carrying the scent of salt and damp wood.
Cassidy bumps her shoulder against mine. “Feeling better yet?”
I exhale. “I don’t know.”
“That’s okay.” She loops her arm through mine, tugging me a little closer. “You’re allowed to be confused. But you’re not allowed to sit in a dark corner and sulk all night.”
I laugh under my breath. “Is that the rule?”
“It is now.”
We slow as we reach the railing overlooking the ocean, the moonlight casting a silver glow, woven into the break of the waves.
Cassidy leans against the rail, tilting her head back to the sky. “You ever think about how big the world is?”
I glance at her. “That’s a very philosophical turn for tonight.”
She chuckles. “I just mean… it’s funny, right? How small we can feel. We act like our problems are hurricanes, but they’re usually just wind.”
I stare out at the water, turning over her words.
After a moment, I ask. “Did I make a mistake?”
Cassidy sighs, crossing her arms over the rail. “I don’t think you’re dumb for having feelings for him. I think you’re human. And who knows? Maybe it really was different for him, too.”
I nod slowly.
“Come on,” she says, nudging me. “Let’s go back before you start getting all broody on me again.”
Back at the bar, we slip back to our table, the low hum of conversation and the familiar clink of glasses filling the space between us. I check my phone again. Nothing.
Cassidy watches me, her eyes soft with understanding. “If he’s worth it, he’ll call.”
I exhale, setting my phone down. “You’re right.”
Cassidy grins. “Of course I’m right.” She leans back, stretching her arms over the back of her chair for a moment. “Now, if you want to keep drinking, I’m game. But if you want to head out, we can do that, too.”
I hesitate.
A small, insistent voice in my head tells me I should leave it at this—go home, sleep, wake up with a clearer head. But another part of me, the part that’s still aching, still caught up in the whirlwind of the what-if’s and the maybes, refuses to let it go so easily.
I don’t want to go home.
I don’t want to sit in my apartment alone, staring at my phone, waiting for something that may never come. I don’t want to keep feeling like this.
I glance up at Cassidy. “I think I need to get drunk.”
Her lips twitch, but she doesn’t tease me for it. Instead, she lifts a brow, considering me carefully. “You sure?”
I nod, already reaching for the waitress’s attention. “I need to stop thinking. And right now, the only way that’s going to happen is alcohol.”
Cass watches me for another beat, then nods. “Alright! Let’s get drunk.”
I huff a laugh. “That’s the spirit.”
“Pun absolutely intended,” she says with a smirk. Then she lifts two fingers to flag down the waitress. “Two shots of tequila, please. And keep ‘em coming.”
The waitress eyes us with something between amusement and warning, but nods. “Hope you’ve got a ride home.”
Cassidy waves a dismissive hand. “We’ll figure it out.”
I should probably be more responsible, but the truth is, I don’t care. Not tonight.
The first shot burns. The second goes down easier. By the third, my body is warm, and the world is pleasantly blurred at the edges.
We switch to mixed drinks after that, something fruity with too much sugar, but it makes everything feel lighter—less suffocating.
Cassidy is laughing, eyes bright, cheeks flushed with alcohol, and for the first time all night, I feel… okay. I’m not great, but I’m not spiraling, either.
I rest my chin on my hand, watching as she tries to tell a story through half-slurred words, her gestures growing increasingly dramatic.
“And then this guy—no, no listen. This guy looks me dead in the eyes—”
The combination of her story and the way she drunkenly tells it makes me burst out laughing, the sound surprising even myself.
Cassidy smiles, triumphant. “See? You’re not thinking about him right now, are you?”
I shake my head, still laughing. “No. No, I guess I’m not.”
“Good.” She says, slamming back another shot. “Because tonight is about us. Best friends. Zero billionaire men. Just drinks and terrible life choices.”
I lift my glass. “To terrible life choices.”
“To us.” She corrects, tapping her glass against mine.
The warmth spreads through me, a numbing kind of buzz that dulls everything else. I let it.
For now, that’s enough.
Cassidy leans back into her chair, swirling what’s left of her drink. The bar is quieter now, the late-night crowd thinning, leaving behind the lingering hum of music and low conversations.
She sighs, stretching her arms above her head. “You know, I was supposed to be working on a media strategy tonight.”
I raise a brow. “And you’re here getting drunk with me instead?”
She smiles. “Obviously. My priorities are impeccable.”
I chuckle, resting my chin in my palm. “What’s the strategy for?”
Cassidy exhales dramatically. “Okay, so my agency took on this disaster of a client—a small tech startup that somehow managed to piss off their entire customer base in under a month.”
I let out a low whistle. “That’s impressive.”
“Right?” She shakes her head. “Apparently, they launched a product that didn’t work, then doubled down when people complained. Someone leaked an internal email where the CEO basically said customers were ‘too dumb to use it properly’.”
I wince. “Oh, no.”
“Oh, yes.” She takes another sip of her drink. “So now, instead of focusing on growing their business, they’ve hired me to make sure they don’t completely tank before the end of the quarter.”
I tilt my head. “And how do you fix that?”
Cassidy shrugs. “Crisis control 101. First, we make the CEO disappear for a bit—limit his social media, cut back on public statements so he doesn’t make things worse.
Then, we redirect the narrative by making the company seem responsive and customer focused.
A few well-placed apologies, a generous refund policy, and suddenly it’s, ‘wow, look at them taking responsibility’ instead of ‘burn them to the ground’. ”
I shake my head, amused. “So, your job is… making people forget they’re mad?”
She grins. “Basically. Reputation laundering. It’s like money laundering, but instead of dirty money, we’re cleaning up dumb actions. That’s PR, baby.”
I snort. “You make it sound so ethical.”
“Oh, it’s not.” She deadpans. Then she shrugs. “But, hey. At least my clients aren’t literal criminals.”
I lift a brow. “Are you sure?”
Cassidy hums, tilting her head. “I mean, not… technically. Not that I’ve checked.”
I shake my head, laughing. “You’re ridiculous.”
She smirks, then pauses. “Okay, but actually how drunk are we?”
I squint at my empty glass, then at her. “I think the bar is slightly tilted.”
Cassidy waves a hand. “That’s just perspective.” She looks around, humming a thought. “The words on the menu are moving a little, though.”
I laugh, rubbing a hand over my face. “Okay, yeah. We’re definitely drunk.”
“One more?” She asks with that playful grin of hers.
I smirk. “Absolutely.”
But then—
Bzzz. Bzzz.
My phone starts vibrating on the table, ringing.
My stomach flips when I flip it over to see the screen.
Nikolai