Chapter 14 #2
Pulling up to the tall back building, Enzo pushes ahead—faster this time—his jaw tight, scanning every person at the door.
He mutters something about checking the inside, about making sure the crowd isn’t crawling with Russians.
Then he disappears through the entrance, leaving Gen and me standing awkwardly with Elijah.
The line of people waiting to get in pushes forward, and I find myself shoulder to shoulder with the guy I’m trying not to want. He doesn’t move. If anything, he leans just close enough that the heat off his body sinks into mine.
Before I can ask what the hell that means, Enzo reappears at the door, waving us forward. “Clear enough. Stay alert.” His eyes cut to Elijah. “Watch them properly.”
“Always do,” Elijah answers, his gaze still on me when he says it.
My stomach flips, and my heart rate quickens. I can’t help how I feel when I have his attention.
The bass inside is heavier than the first club, the kind that shakes the floor beneath your boots. Lights cut through the dark in crisp flashes, shades of purple that make it hard to tell who’s watching.
Gen’s already halfway to the bar, waving down the bartender, owning the place already. Enzo’s gone again, doing his paranoid-scouting thing, which leaves me standing with Elijah.
But being here, I can’t help but be consumed by my father’s warnings, the problems with crowded spaces. The need for control. I need to know how I could protect myself.
“You look like you’re about to jump out of your skin.” Elijah grabs my attention, eyes dragging over me in a way that’s not even subtle.
“I’m fine,” I shoot back, a little too quickly.
“Sure you are.” His smirk makes me want to smack him. “First night out, brand new boots, standing in the middle of a club where you can’t even see the exits—yeah, you’re totally fine.”
I push past him toward the bar. “Do you always narrate people’s breakdowns, or is this special treatment?”
“Special,” he says, following right behind me. “Birthday girl gets VIP commentary.” I notice his hand in the air, and then on cue, the bartender drops a drink in front of me, neon pink and fizzing. Before I can grab it, Elijah slides it closer as if he made it himself.
“Try it.”
“Why? Are you planning on roofying me?”
His grin widens. “If I were, you’d already be face-down on the bar.”
I snort and take a sip. It’s awful. Burning sugar awful. I slam it back down. “Jesus. It tastes like cough syrup.”
“Finish it,” he says, leaning against the bar, close enough I can feel the heat off his arm.
“Bossy much?”
“Always.”
I tilt my head, pretending to think it over. “You know, you’re lucky you’re pretty. Otherwise, I’d have punched you by now.”
“Pretty?” He laughs, low. “That’s what you’re going with?”
“Would you rather I say asshole?”
“Depends.” His eyes don’t move from mine. “Which one gets me closer to your good side?”
The crowd surges, shoving me against him. His hand lands on my waist to steady me, but he doesn’t let go right away. His thumb brushes once, just enough to make me catch my breath before I shove him off.
“You don’t quit, do you?” I mutter, turning back to the bar. Trying to keep up the act. Trying to pretend I’m not dying to have his skin on mine.
“Nope,” he says, grinning.
The bass shifts—deeper, heavier—pulling the floor under our feet. Gen’s already dragged some guy onto the dance floor, laughing too loud, her hands everywhere.
Elijah nods toward her, then looks at me. “Guess it’s just us now.”
“Don’t even—” I start, but he’s already lacing his fingers through mine, tugging me into the chaos of bodies.
The crowd swallows us whole, lights strobing so hard my vision blurs every other second.
But this place feels better, maybe it’s the way the lights are flashing in monochrome colour or the way his hands slide to my hips.
But even though my stomach flips, I feel sturdy in my movements, not feeling the need to resist him.
“You’re stiff,” he says, pressing against my ear.
“Maybe because I don’t grind on people often,” I bite back, trying to sound sharp, not breathless.
I look around, taking cues from the people nearby, then let my hips sway side to side, guided by his touch.
He laughs, deep and careless, chest vibrating against my back. “Could’ve fooled me.”
He spins me so we are chest to chest, nothing but heat and bass between us. His hands stay locked on my waist, and my nerves light up.
“You’re too cocky for your own good,” I mutter.
He dips his head, his lips brushing the shell of my ear. “Confident. There’s a difference.”
I should snap back. Instead, my fingers find the front of his shirt, clutching fabric to steady me. The music makes it easier to blame the rhythm, the alcohol, anything but the way my body presses closer to his.
His gaze hooks into mine, all defined edges and something I don’t recognize. The cocky mask slips for just a second, and I see it—the raw hunger he doesn’t usually let anyone catch.
“This is dangerous,” I whisper, more to myself than him. I know my brother could come back at any moment, and he definitely wouldn’t approve.
His mouth curves, slow and lethal. “Maybe.” His thumb brushes against my hipbone, small but intentional. “But you like dangerous.”
I scoff, even though my pulse is betraying me. “Don’t flatter yourself. I tolerate you.”
“Mm.” He leans closer, the music swallowing his words so only I hear them. “I think you do a bit more than that.”
God help me, I can’t move away.
The bass drops into something heavier, slower, the kind of beat that drags people closer, whether they want it or not. Bodies press in on all sides, and Elijah doesn’t even hesitate—he grabs my hip and pulls me against him.
I remind myself again and again just how stupid I’m being, but his hand settles low on my back, steady, daring me to complain. My palms flatten against his chest, and I tip my chin up. “You’re pushing it.”
A grin tugs at his mouth, infuriatingly cocky. “And you’re letting me.”
I roll my eyes, but my fingers curl tighter in his shirt. “Only because Enzo’s not watching.”
“Sure,” he says, leaning in, trying to read every thought I’m desperate to bury. His breath is hot against my ear. “Keep telling yourself that.”
The music swallows us whole. My chest brushing his every time I move, his thumb stroking slow circles against my hip.
“Don’t look at me like that,” I mutter, forcing my eyes anywhere but his.
“Like what?”
“Like you’re winning something here.”
He laughs, low and rough, the sound rattling down my spine. “Pretty girl, I don’t even need to try.”
Heat floods my face, my chest, everywhere. I want to smack him. I want to kiss him. Both would probably feel the same right now.
I don’t get the chance to decide.
“Enough.”
Enzo’s voice slices through the music. His hand clamping down on Elijah’s shoulder and yanking him back, forcing space between us.
I step away too quickly, pretending my pulse isn’t racing, pretending Elijah’s smirk isn’t burning a hole straight through me.
He doesn’t say a word. He doesn’t need to. The look he gives me before Enzo shoves him toward the bar says it all—this isn’t over.
I push through the bathroom door, slamming it hard enough to make the girl at the sink jump and quickly leave the room.
I lean against the counter, staring at my reflection.
My hair’s sticking up in every direction, mascara’s smudged from the sweat and heat of dancing, and my chest is still pounding from Elijah pressed against me.
I bite down on the inside of my cheek. “Get it together, Ace.”
“He doesn’t own me. Enzo doesn’t own me. Nobody does. And if anyone thinks they can get in the way… they can go screw themselves.”
I hear a door creak behind me. Great. She probably thinks I’m talking to myself.
“Bathroom’s full,” I mutter.
I glance over at the door, club lights filtering through the frosted window, and a man is staring back at me. I raise a brow. “Are you lost?”
He chuckles, shifting back. “Relax. You’re just really pretty. I didn’t mean—”
“Relax?” I cut him off, leaning forward, smirking. “You’re in the women’s bathroom. You might want to recalibrate that advance.”
The guy stammers something about leaving and finally moves. I hear the door click behind him, and I shake my head.
Pathetic.
Mirror Ace looks at me. “And don’t forget,” I whisper, brushing my hair back and straightening my dress, “he wants me. And I want him. Enzo and his rules can fuck off tonight, because we’re not playing by them.”
I pinch my own chin, feeling the adrenaline spike.
My body remembers the press of his chest, his hands finding mine on the dance floor, the heat radiating from him, driving me insane.
I take a long breath, smooth my hair, fix my eyeliner, and stand tall. Tonight? We’re kissing all night. Every second. And if anyone else wants to interrupt? They’re about to get a very clear message: don’t.
Opening the door, I push past the guy from the bathroom earlier, hearing him mutter over my head, “Eto nasha devochka.”
I search the crowd for Elijah, but I can’t find him. I look for Gen or Enzo instead, but I still come up empty. I keep walking toward the bar and try to order a drink; however, it seems I no longer exist to the bartender when I’m not escorted by Elijah.
“Excuse me,” I shout.
He taps a hand on the counter in front of me and gives me a knowing look. “Eighteen and older.”
My mouth closes. I had been so swept up in the night, I actually forgot I’m only in this place because Elijah and Enzo have some type of connection to it.
“Um,” I hesitate. “Could I just get a water, please?”
He nods, and I grasp the cold glass, holding it tightly to my chest as I continue to look around.
After a few moments, I allow my mind to relax.
I’m alone. Alone for the first time in—for the first time ever.
I squeeze my lips together to hold in my grin, trying not to look like a crazy girl smiling to herself, but then my eyes catch Gen’s back.
My navy dress and her long, curly hair.
I set down my glass and start towards her when a hand, a familiar hand, grasps a fist of her hair and leans into her.
I immediately tense. “Elijah,” I whisper. Somehow, hoping that if I say his name, I’ll be taken out of this trance.
I move around, hoping to see that I’m wrong. It’s just someone with similar hands, not the guy I’ve been in love with for the last two years.
My hand immediately catches my mouth as I watch Elijah lean back, smile, and take Gen’s mouth in deeper, grabbing at her everywhere he can.
I run for the back exit, unable to stomach the sight of my first love and my first friend.