Chapter 21 #2
I look up, and—yep. He’s high. High-high. Pupils blown, jaw working, sweat on his hairline. He smells like mint gum, the musky cologne I once loved, and whatever chemical cocktail he thought counted as a celebration.
“I’ve been trying to get you to come over all night,” he says, bending forward, hands grazing my waist.
I shift sideways, and he follows. Subtle never worked on him.
“You’re high, Brody.”
He gives a lazy, lopsided smile. “A little. Just... celebrating. It’s a big night. You look unreal, by the way.”
His eyes slide downward, lingering. “Kinda reminds me of when you used to dress up just for me.”
I stiffen. “Brody...”
“What?” He laughs like I’m being dramatic. “Can’t I say you look good?”
His fingers skim along my hip like he’s testing whether I’ll stop him, and I do, catching his wrist and lowering it firmly.
“Brody...don’t.”
But he doesn’t listen; he never really did. The bass vibrates through the floor as he leans closer, lips brushing my ear.
“Come with me, Ivy,” he shouts over the music. “Just a few minutes backstage. Let’s talk. I miss you.”
I force a smile, trying to keep the mood from tipping.
“I said I’m fine out here.”
He doesn’t budge. If anything, he drifts closer, like the crowd is an excuse to press against me. “Don’t be like that,” he says. “It’s quieter back there. We could actually talk.”
I try stepping back, but the lights smear and the room tilts. I’ve had more to drink than I realize; everything is too loud, too hot. And Brody—he gives me zero room to breathe, boxing me in like the I belong to him.
“Brody,” I warn, “seriously—”
“I’ve been trying to get you alone all night,” he pushes, smile thinning into insistence.
Someone bumps into us, shoving me into Brody’s chest. He takes it as an invitation. His hands roam all over me, pulling me close, giving me no space to move. The strobe lights, the heat, the crush of bodies—it all folds in on me at once, the room spinning in a way that makes me dizzy.
I place my palms on his chest, pushing him away. “I said no.”
He just rolls his eyes like I’m being dramatic.
“Don’t make a big deal out of it. Just come—” He reaches out and grabs my wrist, fingers locking tight, pulling.
Pain slices up my arm.
“Brody—stop, you’re hurting me.”
He doesn’t let go. “I’m not—just come on—”
He doesn’t get to finish. Out of nowhere, a figure materializes behind me, and before I can turn, he rips Brody away, slamming him against the nearest wall with enough force to make the people around us jerk in surprise.
For a heartbeat, I just... stare. I can’t even process what I’m seeing.
Brody’s pinned—lifted almost onto his toes—by someone bigger, broader, radiating pure violence. An arm is braced across his chest, crushing the air from him.
Then the man speaks, and the sound slices straight through the haze, “Get your fucking hands off her if you want to live to see another day.”
Dane.
My stomach drops.
He’s in jeans and a dark T-shirt, shoulders tense under the fabric, jaw locked, eyes black with fury. He’s not yelling—he doesn’t have to. His rage is cold, controlled, and ten times more dangerous for it.
Brody wheezes, his face flushing as his eyes roll.
Panic snaps through me.
“Dane,” I manage, stepping forward. “Let him go.”
He doesn’t move. Not even a twitch. He’s somewhere else entirely—buried in a rage so deep I’m not sure he can hear me over it.
The music thunders on, oblivious. People stare but pretend they’re not staring.
“Dane,” I try again, softer, moving close. I wrap my fingers around his forearm. His skin is hot beneath my touch, muscles rigid.
“Let him go,” I whisper.
For a beat, he doesn’t move.
Then, with a rough exhale, he releases Brody. Brody stumbles forward, coughing, sputtering something that might be my name or an excuse. Either way, I don’t care. I’m done. I’m not sticking around long enough to find out.
I shove through the crowd, through the suffocating heat and strobe lights and bodies pressing in on all sides. I burst out the front doors into the freezing night, my breath a sharp cloud in the air, and I keep walking.
Away from Brody.
Away from Dane.
Away from this whole damn night.
I don’t get far before I hear him behind me, breath hard and fast, footsteps pounding the pavement.
“Ivy,” Dane growls, fury barely contained. “Where the fuck do you think you’re going?”
“It doesn’t concern you. Leave me alone.”
Up ahead, I spot a cab, headlights sweeping the curb, and make a beeline towards it.
I quicken my pace, practically jogging now. My hand closes around the door handle just as Dane’s fingers clamp around my arm. In one pull, he spins me toward him.
“You’re not going anywhere alone,” he snaps. “I’ll give you a ride home.”
“No,” I fire back. “I’ll take a cab.”
I try to yank my arm free, but his grip doesn’t budge.
“You’re not taking a cab.”
Before I can respond, the cab driver leans across the passenger seat and calls out the window, bored and impatient, “You getting in or not?”
“Yes,” I say.
“No,” Dane says at the exact same moment.
The driver stares between us, rolls his eyes like he’s seen this a thousand times, then shrugs and pulls away from the curb.
“Goddammit,” I blow out in frustration as the cab disappears. “Why are you even here?”
I try to turn away again, eyes fixed anywhere but on him. If I meet his gaze now—if I let myself fall into it—my resolve will crack right down the middle.
“Look at me, Ivy,” Dane growls.
I don’t. I keep my chin angled down, my face turned away, pretending I don’t feel the heat pulsing through me at his touch.
His fingers close under my chin. Not rough, but firm enough to leave me no choice. He tips my face up toward his, forcing my eyes to his.
The streetlight catches the edge of his jaw, highlighting the wild, unfiltered fury in his eyes.
“Is that why you were ignoring me all day?” he asks, voice low. “Because of him?”
“It doesn’t concern you,” I shoot back.
His jaw clenches, something dark flashing across his expression.
“Yes, Ivy,” he says, stepping in closer, “it fucking does.”
Something in me snaps, and I wrench out of his grip, chin raised, staring him down with the same fire glaring back at me.
“Why?” I spit, sarcasm coating every syllable.
“Because of the deal? Because you get to fuck me whenever you feel like it, but parade Leandra on your arm to the entire world? Haven’t you gotten what you wanted yet?
You still want more, is that it? How long until you decide you’ve put me back in my place. ”
“No, Ivy, that is not what this is...” he begins, but I barrel over him.
“You think I know nothing about you?” My heartbeat hammers against my ribs. “But here’s one thing I’ve learned: you’re not the kind of lowlife who’d fire Sloane because of me. So screw you and screw this deal, I’m done.”
For a moment, he just looks at me, really looks.
And something in his gaze softens—not much, but enough to make my defenses slip.
He drags a hand over his stubble, exhaling once before his fingers brush my jaw, warm and impossibly gentle compared to a moment ago.
“Can’t you see, Ivy,” he murmurs, “it was just an excuse.”
My brows pull together. “An excuse?”
“To be with you.”
My eyes flick over him in confusion. “To be with me?”
A half-smirk kicks up at the corner of his mouth. “Are you gonna repeat every damn thing I say?”
“Why would you need an excuse?” I whisper, throat suddenly tight.
“Because in London, when I came at you straight,” he says, “you practically ran for the damn hills. And when I got back, I couldn’t get you out of my head.”
He looks away briefly, then looks back, taking a deep breath.
“I wanted you, and I didn’t have the balls to admit to myself that I didn’t care whether you’d deceived me, what lies you told, or how many excuses I could stack up to pretend it mattered. All I cared about was making sure I got you.”
I search his face for a crack, for a lie, but all I see is honesty.
“So you didn’t actually care about the deceit,” I say slowly. “You cared that it gave you leverage.”
His mouth curves, faint and unapologetic. “I cared that it kept you where I could reach you.”
“Oh.” I lift a brow, letting a slow smile creep in. “So you used shady tactics to get what you wanted. That doesn’t sound like something Dane Black would do.”
His eyes darken, heat sliding in where the fury had been, his gaze dropping to my mouth before lifting again.
“You know as well as I do,” he says, voice roughening, “there’s nothing I wouldn’t do to get what I want.” He pauses, letting the words sink in. “And somewhere along the line that became you.” His chin tips down, proximity turning the air thick between us.
“You think I don’t know how crazy I looked blowing up your phone today, sending you text after text like some unhinged idiot. I was losing my goddamn mind.”
“Yeah, come to think of it,” I say, fighting a smirk. “You are a bit unhinged.” My breath stumbles as his hands slide to my waist, pulling me flush against him. The contact sends a shiver down my spine.
“Up until now,” he murmurs, stepping close enough for his breath to brush my lips, “you never told me to stop.” One hand cradles my face, the pad of his thumb working its way between my lips.
“Give me a chance,” he breathes.
My voice barely works. “A chance for what?”
“To date you.” His forehead rests against mine. “No deal. No conditions. Just... us.” His eyes search my face, and it’s the first time he’s shown me a hint of vulnerability.
“There isn’t anyone else, Ivy. Last night, the only person I thought about was you. Leandra is in my past. She’s just having difficulty accepting it, that’s all.”
Heat pours through me so fast I forget why I’m mad.
He leans in, his lips feathering mine, and I close my eyes, feeling that energy that zips between us.
“I need you,” he rasps, his fingers sliding beneath my chin, tilting my face up.
His mouth meets mine gently at first, a slow, coaxing kiss that makes my skin tingle.
I lean into him as the tip of his tongue glides against mine—a slick, heated caress that pulls a soft, desperate sound from the back of my throat.
As the kiss deepens, my fingers curl into his shirt, feeling the steady thud of his heartbeat beneath my knuckles. He lets out a low groan that shoots straight through me as his hands slide under my ass, lifting me with ease, drawing my legs around his hips.
The shift is instant, urgency flooding in.
My hands cup his face, sliding up to tangle in his hair.
He devours my mouth with growing hunger, his tongue stroking harder, faster, as if he’s done pretending he has control.
We cling to each other, breaths breaking, chasing that closeness like letting go would be impossible now.
A cluster of club-goers stumbles past, their drunk laughter cutting through the haze.
“Jesus—get a room!” someone shouts.
We break apart on a shared breath, foreheads brushing as a rough laugh rumbles out of him. He lowers me slowly until my toes find the sidewalk, my pulse still racing like it hasn’t caught up yet.
“We should go,” Dane murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to my lips that contrasts so painfully with the heat still burning between us.
“Go where?” I ask, breathless.
“I’m taking you on a date.”
I lift a brow. “Do I get any say in this?”
“Nope.” He takes my hand, threading our fingers together like it’s the most natural thing in the world, and starts leading me toward his car. Tonight, it’s not the sleek sports car but a black monster of a truck gleaming like trouble with headlights.
And the smile stretching across my face?
Ridiculous.
Uncontrollable.
Head-over-goddamn-heels.