Chapter 26 Jonathan #2
Marcus shows up at some point, but they avoid each other like they rehearsed it.
I keep my sunglasses on and my gaze trained in her direction because I’m apparently a glutton for punishment.
Still, not once do I see her speak to him.
Not even a glance. Marcus, on the other hand, watches her constantly.
He even tries to slide up next to her when they’re grabbing food, but she shifts away like he’s contagious.
I don’t know what to think anymore. Didn’t they just share some second-chance-romance kind of kiss?
Are they hiding it? Regretting it? Pretending it never happened?
“We’re all heading inside for karaoke!” Manny jogs up and tugs my arm.
The sun dips low behind the trees, casting a warm orange glow over the retreat.
The main house staff starts rolling out the dinner buffet and hauling in the karaoke setup like it’s Coachella for corporate zombies.
People from other companies start showing up too, it’s apparently a weekend tradition around here, this group sing-off-slash-networking nightmare.
As we walk inside, I catch Marcus leaning in to whisper something in AJ’s ear.
She doesn’t respond, just keeps walking, but it’s enough for the heat to flare up in my chest. My fingers curl into fists at my side and I can feel my face flush with a predetermined kind of anger. The kind that comes from humiliation.
I told this woman I was falling for her and the next morning, she’s locking lips with the guy who ditched her at the altar. And somehow the group still sees us as a couple. Because after two cringe-worthy performances, Tanya stands on a bench and grins like she’s planning our wedding.
“Jonathan and AJ! You’re up!” she shouts.
I’m about four drinks past sober when I shoot to my feet, grinning like I’ve just been handed a mic on The Voice.
The liquid courage is loud in my veins and yeah, maybe I’m not exactly pitch-perfect in this state, but I’ve still got enough swagger to charm the cute blonde at the corner table.
Maybe she’ll end up in my cabin later tonight.
Maybe AJ will see it. Maybe she’ll care.
AJ’s already waving her hand, laughing like she’s too polite to say hell no. Her cheeks are pink and not from the alcohol. Perfect. I already know what song I’m singing. It’s newer, it’s brutal and it hits every single nerve I want her to feel.
Tanya joins the mission, tugging at AJ’s arm like this is some wholesome bonding moment. “Come on, AJ!”
“Come on, AJ,” I echo with a smirk.
She glares at me, the same glare she used to throw me across boardroom tables. Cool, we’re back to our old ways. She shakes her head at the group, all sugar and diplomacy, like she’s not boiling inside.
I lean into the DJ booth and say three words: “Vampire. Olivia Rodrigo.”
The DJ gives me a thumbs-up and hits play before AJ can object.
AJ finally walks up beside me, arms crossed, mic dangling in her hand like it personally offended her.
“Okay,” she says flatly. “I’m not singing that.”
I grin wider. “That’s okay. I’ll sing for the both of us.”
The opening piano hits and Elaine screams from somewhere in the crowd, “I love this song!”
I glance at Manny. His face is frozen somewhere between confusion and horror. Even he can tell something is off with me and AJ.
I take the first verse like it’s my personal battle cry.
Mic in one hand, my gaze locked on AJ like I’m about to light the stage on fire.
I start with a slow burn, throwing shade in melody—how I’m not about to give her the satisfaction of small talk, how her glittering life is built on fake concern and stepping on anyone in her way.
I toss her a petty thumbs-up between lines.
“Look at you—living the dream,” I say in rhythm, riding the beat.
She folds her arms tight, eyes narrowing. I keep going, weaving in digs about the parties, the diamonds, and the so-called paradise that was anything but. My voice slices through the room, and a few heads start turning her way. She notices.
I hit the part about loving someone so much you laugh at your own stupidity. Her arms loosen, her face softens for half a breath. Then I crank it back up—how I’ve made mistakes, but hers made mine look saintly; how she only shows up when the lights are low.
Without warning, I step closer, leaning into the mic like it’s a dare.
The next line is about being sold for scraps, about someone sinking their teeth in and draining you dry.
I let my voice crack in the perfect place, half-scream, half-melody.
Then I’m right in front of her, holding the mic toward her mouth like I’m handing over a loaded weapon.
She takes it. Doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t run. Her voice is serrated enough to cut glass as she fires it straight at me—how every warning about me turned out to be dead-on, how I called people crazy for daring to tell her the truth, and how she hates herself for ever falling for my lies.
Her palm smacks into my chest, a shove timed perfectly to the beat.
The crowd erupts. She keeps going, venom laced through every note—singing about how I can sell a lie without blinking, how I make betrayal look effortless, how she should’ve seen me coming a mile away.
Then she rolls her eyes, smirks, and lets out the kind of line that makes the whole place gasp—how older women would’ve known better.
AJ steps toward me, voice climbing higher, fiercer, laying out every bitter detail in technicolor. I don’t even hear the cheering anymore—just her.
When she hits the “vampire” hook, the room freezes. You could hear a pin drop before she turns and struts to the far end of the stage, tossing out another blow: that you can’t love anyone without a heart, and she’s damn sure I don’t have one.
I don’t give the crowd a second to breathe. I cross the stage, cutting in with my side—how I tried to save her, how her mind works in ways I’ll never understand. I lift a hand like I might stop her, but I don’t.
We hit the last chorus together, circling each other like predators—lines about mistakes, late-night shadows, and losing yourself to someone who only ever wanted to break you apart.
By the final hook, we’re toe-to-toe. The “bloodsucker” punch lands, and the song crashes to an end.
The room is silent. We’re both out of breath, locked in a stare-off neither of us is willing to lose.
She throws her hand back and slaps me across the face. It’s not hard, but it’s enough to sting and loud enough to echo. The crowd collectively gasps and then the shock drops like a curtain. You could hear a pin hit the hardwood.
Her eyes shine, not with rage but something real, filled with gut-punched hurt. I should know what that feels like.
I hold still and keep my face stoic. I can’t let her see what’s erupting inside me. The heartbreak. The humiliation. The part of me that still wants to chase after her and beg her to explain why she kissed Marcus.
She shoves her microphone into my chest and storms off the stage.
Somewhere in the back of the room, a single person starts to clap, then it dies immediately.
I glance out at the crowd. All I see are stunned faces and open mouths. Clear confusion. Maybe a little secondhand sorrow, too. I blow out a slow breath, my aching jaw clenches.
Well… that could’ve gone better.