Chapter 2 Owen #2
“Tonight you must dance,” Harper insists, grabbing Ethan’s hand. “Come on. Everyone to the floor.”
She pulls us into the crush of bodies. The DJ has switched to something slow and stripped, a beat that grinds against my bones. We get separated in the crowd immediately. Harper spins away to dance with a college friend, ditching us in the middle of the chaos.
Leaving us with Tessa.
The moment she’s gone, the atmosphere changes. The politeness evaporates. I step closer, invading Tessa’s space. I can’t help myself. The impulse wins.
“Red. Bold choice,” I grin, letting my gaze do a slow, deliberate sweep of her body.
She shifts her weight, looking everywhere but at me. “It was the only clean thing I had.”
It’s such a bad lie I almost laugh.
“Is that so?” Ethan’s voice is a low rumble. He takes a step closer. “Because I seem to recall there was a safer option.”
Tessa swallows hard. She looks trapped. “I like to live dangerously.”
“Clearly,” Asher murmurs, his eyes fixed on the spaghetti strap on her shoulder like he wants to snap it with his teeth.
The floor is packed. A wall of people presses in on us, forcing the circle to collapse. I feel a body bump into me, and I stumble forward, my chest brushing against Tessa’s shoulder. Her scent hits me instantly; it’s intoxicating.
“Sorry,” she gasps, trying to step back.
But there’s nowhere to go. She bumps into Asher.
Asher’s hands come up automatically, gripping her bare waist to steady her. His fingers splay over her dress, his skin stark against the crimson. He holds her there and doesn’t let go, his thumbs pressing into the curve of her hip bone.
Tessa goes still, her breath stuttering. She looks up at him, her lips parted. Asher stares down at her. The code is gone. The firewalls are gone. He is only looking at her mouth.
“Too crowded in here,” he murmurs. It sounds like an excuse to keep his hands on her skin.
“Yeah,” Tessa breathes.
The floor is a mess of flailing limbs. A guy stumbles into her side, reeking of gin and slopping a dark drink down the back of his own sleeve. He’s uncoordinated, a second away from bowling her over.
Ethan moves.
It’s instinct. Violent, protective instinct. He steps in, placing himself between Tessa and the crowd, effectively caging her against us. He puts a hand on the small of her back—skin on skin—and pulls her backward, flush against his chest.
There’s nowhere for her to go. Her back hits the solid wall of Ethan’s suit, while Asher stands immovable in front, his hands still anchored to her hips. I’m close enough to feel the heat coming off all of them. We’re a single, sweating knot of silk and suit jackets and tension.
Tessa gasps, her hands landing on his chest to steady herself. She’s staring up at him, her eyes wide.
Ethan is looking down at her, his face a mask of dark intensity. His hand is large, hot, and possessive on her lower back. He isn’t dancing. He’s claiming space. He’s daring anyone else to touch her.
“You really are trouble,” Ethan murmurs, his mouth inches from her ear. “Wearing this.”
“I didn’t think you’d actually show,” she whispers.
“We’re everywhere,” I say, leaning in close on her other side. I brush a strand of hair off her shoulder, my knuckles grazing the pulse in her throat. It’s hammering. “You can’t hide from us, Tess.”
She jerks. A visible tremor ripples through the silk.
For a second, the music fades. It’s just us. The heat of her body, the scent of her skin, the way she looks at us—terrified and desperate and wanting.
“Okay, break it up!” Harper’s voice cuts through the haze.
We pull back. Ethan drops his hand from her back. Asher steps away. I take a sip of my drink, my throat too tight to swallow.
Harper pushes back into the circle, oblivious. She’s grinning, flushed from dancing.
“God, it’s hot in here,” she laughs, fanning herself. She looks at us, beaming. “So? How are the nerves holding up?”
Ethan immediately pulls his phone out of his pocket, the screen lighting up his face.
Harper rolls her eyes at the three of us. “God, you three are buzzkills. Put the phones away.”
“Not until the migration is prepped,” Ethan says, not looking up.
“You’re at a club,” Harper counters, snatching the device out of his hand. “Relax. Mosaic isn’t going to collapse before Monday. You can stress out then.”
Beside me, I see Tessa go completely still.
She is standing next to Ethan, smoothing her dress, but her hand stops dead on her thigh. Her face goes dull in the strobe lights.
“Mosaic?” Tessa asks. Her voice is barely a whisper, but it cuts right through me.
“Give it back, Harper,” Ethan warns, his voice tight, missing Tessa’s reaction entirely.
“Not until you celebrate,” Harper insists. She looks from me to Ethan to Asher, then grabs Tessa by the shoulders, beaming.
“I can’t believe you guys actually pulled it off,” Harper announces, her voice ringing out clearly over the music. “I was going to wait until Monday for the big reveal, but seeing you all here together? I can’t not say it.”
She steps into the center of the circle, pulling Tessa along.
“I knew you three were looking for a unicorn, and I knew Tess was perfect. But I didn’t want to jinx it with favoritism. So I kept my mouth shut and let your blind review process do the work.”
Tessa looks like the floor just dropped out from beneath her.
“When she told me she got the job, I almost screamed,” Harper beams, wrapping an arm around Tessa’s rigid shoulders. “But I wanted it to be a massive surprise on Monday when she finally realized her new bosses were you guys.”
Ethan goes motionless. The color drains out of his face so fast he looks like he might pass out.
“Harper,” he says, his voice low and dangerous. “What are you talking about?”
Harper ignores the warning in his tone, squeezing Tessa tight. “I’m talking about your new Lead Brand Strategist, Tessa!”
The world stops. The music doesn’t actually cut out, but for me, the room goes silent. I stop moving, my beer bottle halfway to my mouth.
Lead Brand Strategist.
Not a startup. Our startup. Mosaic. The Phantom Trio. Us.
I look at Asher. His eyes have widened, the cool, detached mask slipping for the first time in years.
Then I look at Ethan. The hungry, predatory look vanishes, replaced by a dawn of absolute horror.
He looks from Harper, to me, and then down at the red slip dress that is currently doing unforgivable things to my ability to think.
“Her?” Ethan whispers. His voice goes dead flat.
“It’s going to be great!” Harper claps her hands, oblivious to the nuclear winter descending on the circle. “Having family in the office! You guys are going to take such good care of her.”
“Well, see you on Monday,” Ethan says to Tessa, his voice dry.
I look at Tessa. She looks like she wants to cry.
She didn’t know. The look on her face says it all—she had no idea Mosaic was us. And we had no idea the genius candidate was her.
We can’t fire her. Harper would never forgive us. And firing her now would look like retaliation, the kind of mess that turns into a story before our app even launches.
But we also can’t work with her. Not when I know exactly what she looks like in that dress. Not when Ethan has practically dared her to wear it. Not when Asher is looking at her like she is a puzzle he wants to dismantle.
We are trapped. She should run.
Monday morning is going to be a bloodbath.