SEVENTEEN
With shadows and throbbing neon, the club was an assault on the senses. The playlist was merciless, vibrating through the floor and into my chest like a steady, grating reminder of why I despised places like this. They were too loud. Too crowded. Too artificial.
And yet, here I was, chained to this event like a puppet on strings, flashing the occasional polite smile to fans who clutched their signed books like sacred relics.
Vinnie hovered nearby, grinning and schmoozing as if he were born for this circus, his ease only adding to my irritation.
His latest acquisition – a tiny brunette barely out of university – had spoken all of two words since joining us at the table.
He couldn’t care less about the years she hadn’t lived – it was the shape of youth that held his attention.
I would’ve said a thing or two about his increasingly fraying morality, but I wasn’t really the one to preach. Besides, my mind wasn’t really here.
I was back in that hospice room with Ezio. His reawakening should have been a distant problem, a footnote to a twenty-year-old past I’d buried. Instead, it dawdled like a dark spectre gnawing at the edges of my thoughts.
I clenched my jaw, adjusting my cuffs just to keep my fingers busy. No amount of alcohol or feigned charm could blunt the blade of knowing he was awake – alive – still capable of dismantling everything I’d built.
‘You know brooding doesn’t sell books, right?’ Vinnie’s voice cut through my spiral, and I shot him a sidelong glance. He was perched on the edge of the table, inspecting the merchandise setup with a look of unabashed satisfaction.
‘They’re flying off the shelves,’ he continued, gesturing to the crowd around my stand. ‘You’ve got these women eating out of your hand.’ His grin turned sly, his tone dropping into something annoyingly conspiratorial. ‘Speaking of which… Paula hasn’t arrived yet?’
I levelled a cold glare at him, but Vinnie only raised his hands in mock surrender, his grin never faltering.
‘Hey, relax,’ he said, laughing under his breath. ‘I’m just saying. She has a vibe, you know? A little… tension.’
‘I’m not in the mood, Vinnie,’ I muttered, scrubbing a hand over the scruff on my chin.
He stopped dead, the casual smirk fading as his gaze turned hawk-like. He angled towards me, voice lower. ‘You’ve always hated these events. But that look… it’s not about crowds.’
Our eyes locked. A beat. Then another.
I could lie. I could deflect. But Vinnie wasn’t some colleague or a curious fan.
He was the only one who knew where my cracks ran deepest – and I knew his.
I had seen past the curated charm and flashy teeth, right to the ruin beneath.
He never talked about it, but I remembered the headlines.
A ‘perfect marriage’ turned murder-suicide, both his parents found splayed like broken puppets at the bottom of the stairs. Gunshots to the chests. Matching.
At their funeral, I’d told him we should leave. Start fresh. He’d said yes without blinking – insisted, days after he’d put them to rest. Before the soil had settled on their coffins, we’d already booked our flights. New lives on a new continent – two nineteen-year-olds crossing the big sea.
‘Ezio woke up,’ I said finally, the memory cracking through me like brittle bone.
Vinnie held completely still, breath held in. His lashes didn’t waver, as if time had caught in his eyes.
‘When?’
‘This week.’ I rubbed my neck, the muscle tight, my skin cold.
A girl came up to us, clutching a copy of my book as if it might vanish. I signed it, forced a smile, sent her off with a thank-you that barely hit my vocal cords.
Vinnie reclined a touch, lips thinning in thought. ‘No wonder you’ve been brooding like a Bronte hero. So, what now?’
I shook my head. ‘Hospice keeps calling. I keep pretending my head’s underground.’
He didn’t laugh. Just stretched his legs, restless, jaw ticking. ‘You can’t outrun this, you know. Sooner or later, you’ll have to face him – before this whole damn limbo swallows you alive.’
I opened my mouth to say something, but then the air shifted.
It was subtle at first: a ripple that moved through the room, pulling our focus towards the entrance.
And she walked in.
Like thunder wearing perfume – darkness in heels.
The black dress she wore clung to her like it had been painted on, every curve accentuated by the play of light and shadow.
The slit up her thigh revealed just enough to make me hold my breath, showing a fleeting glimpse of skin that burned itself into my mind, topped off with a black lace garter lining her thigh-high nylons.
My irritation evaporated, replaced by something darker, something heavier.
Both Vinnie and I snapped up in our chairs. My gaze locked on her as she moved further into the room.
The crowd seemed to part for her, the neon catching on the faint shimmer of her dress, her blonde hair tightly drawn as if begging to be pulled and unravelled.
Two young men appeared their movements predatory.
I felt a tick on my brow ridge, eerily reminded of Ghost and Scarlett.
The men closed in on her like wolves circling prey.
For a split second, the instinct to intervene flared in my chest, but I stopped myself – reminded they were paid to play a part. And then Paula met them head-on.
She didn’t fucking flinch.
She raised her head, a small, wicked smile curving her lips that took on an irresistibly fuckable shape, her body language that of a cougar deciding which part to devour first.
Whatever they said to her was lost to the music, but her response was equally predatory – enough to send them reeling. She didn’t just hold her ground; she owned it. The way they backed off – their confidence dissolving under her gaze – was nothing short of poetic.
Heat pooled low in my stomach as I watched her.
Fuck, she was doing it for me. Breaking her would feel like a breath of fresh air. Her submission would be… intoxicating.
Her eyes found mine, cleaving through the haze of lights and bodies like an axe.
The moment stretched, the world narrowing to just the two of us.
Her presence filled the space, the club’s pulse receding into silence.
There was only her, standing there like she belonged to the shadows and the light at the same time.
The text that she contributed to my book resurfaced with chains and shackles, torment and pleasure… it all crashed down on me right then and there.
She walked towards our table, the sway of her hips holding me captive.
I barely noticed Vinnie’s low whistle beside me.
By the time she reached my table, her scent curled through the heat.
Citrus and salt, clinging like sweat to skin.
I sat up straight and pulled the vest from the side of the chair into my lap, trying to hide what this she-devil had coaxed out of me.
Her mouth opened and she said something, but it didn’t register. Vinnie nudged me with his elbow, a low chuckle escaping him. He may have mentioned drinks and then excused himself with the girl still clinging to his arm.
And just like that, he left me to the fires of hell.
Paula’s steady gaze held me captive. I bent forward slightly, resting my elbows on the table, my head angling just enough to let a slow smirk curve my lips.
We made small talk, meeting and greeting our fans as they came and went.
I couldn’t tear my gaze away as she leaned back a little, crossing her legs in a slow, reflexive manner that had my blood roaring in my ears.
The slit in her dress parted, revealing a tantalising glimpse of smooth, golden skin and that fucking lace I could almost feel tearing between my teeth.
The shift in the music was subtle at first, the deep vocals cutting through the noise, sinking into the surroundings. The air thickened with dark promises, weaving itself into the hearts of the crowd. It was a moment designed to make people lose themselves.
Then Paula’s name, in a shrill and somewhat grating note, cut through the atmosphere. A woman with a fox-like face, clearly familiar to her, approached.
My attention snapped to Paula as she turned towards the sound, her mouth softening into a smile. She went from prowling lioness to something startlingly gentle – achingly human – in the span of a breath.
My chest constricted as I witnessed the woman beneath the layers of stoicism and sharp wit.
The tall woman strode towards her, not even sparing a glance my way.
I watched as the stranger embraced her tightly, her hands gripping Paula’s shoulders as if anchoring herself to her. Paula’s smile tempered even further, a moment of pure, unguarded warmth that struck me harder than it should have. She softened further.
A perfect prey to me.
It fucking disarmed me… how she stood there, exposed for just a moment, as though the world hadn’t hardened her into the hard, controlled version of herself she showed me daily.
When the opportunity to run away for a heartbeat presented itself, I scurried to the book stand like a coward. But my ears stayed trained on them.
The woman – Gianna – hovered a little closer to her, smile faltering just a fraction, as if she’d recognised something beneath Paula’s armour. Her voice was low, almost drowned by the beat.
‘Everything else okay?’
That sparked my interest.
Why wouldn’t it be okay?
My focus zeroed in, my mind working through the words like a puzzle. The way Gianna asked wasn’t casual. It carried a weight. Concern bled from the tone, enough to make Paula’s smile falter for a second.
And there it was. That hesitation.
Paula recovered quickly, brushing it off with a too-bright laugh, but I caught it. The crack in her stance, the split-second where the mask slipped and something else peeked through – something fragile, bruised and desperately hidden.
What was she hiding? And why did it feel like it mattered to me?