Chapter 4

I leaned against the doorway of the bathroom, arms crossed as I watched the circus unfold.

Layla had Addy halfway bent over the sink, eyeliner in one hand, concentration furrowed into her brows like she was performing brain surgery. Meanwhile, Addy was babbling about how if the bassist of the band looked at her twice, she was throwing her corset on stage and going topless the rest of the night. I didn’t doubt it.

I stretched dramatically. “I said I’d go to the concert, not age twenty years waiting for you to finish contouring.”

“Shut up,” Layla chirped, not even glancing my way. “You love this band. You got us tickets!”

“I tolerate them. You guys wouldn’t shut up about them since I got hired two fucking years ago.” I shoved off the wall and exited the room. “Now I know all their lyrics against my will.”

I ordered the Uber, then headed straight for the kitchen like a man on a mission. If we were gonna be late, we were at least gonna be buzzed.

I opened the cabinet above the fridge, dug past a sad half-bottle of gin and a dusty tin of hot cocoa mix...don’t ask...and grabbed whatever liquor looked like it hadn’t expired. Vodka, some suspiciously fancy rum someone had left after my birthday party.

I tossed ice into three glasses, poured generous shots of everything, no measuring, and topped them off with a splash of mango juice. Then paused. Something was missing.

I opened the fridge, grabbed the oranges I kept for aesthetic purposes, and sliced one into uneven wedges. Slid them onto the rim of each glass like I actually knew what I was doing.

I carried them back in with the same pride I imagined a chef carries a flaming dessert. They eyed the drinks with wary caution, but they still picked them up in the end.

We clinked and downed them in one go.

Fire. Fire in my chest, behind my eyes, somewhere in my soul. I exhaled sharply and hissed through my teeth.

They laughed, and I walked back to grab my jacket, feeling the buzz start to spread in my veins. I pulled out the denim one I’d been saving for tonight and slipped it on before glancing in the mirror. Okay, yeah. I looked good. Not that anyone needed to know I’d tried. It was important to maintain the illusion of effortless hotness.

Moments later, we were out the door, the cool night air hitting me like a slap from God.

I took a deep breath, letting it settle in my lungs. I was gonna try my hardest to have fun tonight. Forget about cocky texts and dark eyes and a stupid hot voice that made my brain short out.

Forget the way a certain bastard made me feel like I wasn’t in control.

“I think I forgot to lock my door again,” I said. “I swear one of these days I'll get robbed and –”

I stopped. For a second, I wasn’t even sure what I was looking at. But then my brain caught up.

Adam, Layla’s boyfriend slash stepbrother, stood by the passenger side of a black car, tall and dressed like he’d just stepped off the front page of Insufferably Rich Weekly.

And next to him, leaning lazily against the car, like the street belonged to him, was Jax.

My stomach dipped in a why-is-my-body-betraying-me way.

He was wearing that leather jacket again, hair a little messy. He had a cigarette between his fingers, and somehow that made him hotter....like a bad decision with a heartbeat, all smoke, sex, and attitude.

He didn’t smile, didn’t smirk, didn’t move.

Just looked straight at me...eyes sharp, mouth bored, jaw ticking slightly like he was waiting for me to react. And yeah, okay, maybe I was reacting, in the way that made my blood thrum in places I didn’t want to acknowledge. My spine locked up, like if I looked for a second too long, he’d know.

Like he already knew.

Like he liked that he knew.

I exhaled hard through my nose.

The guy had been haunting my brain for days. After that alley call, I’d stopped replying. Calls? Ignored. Texts? Left on read. Block him? I wanted to. But I couldn’t bring myself to give him that win.

Which probably meant he had gotten to me.

There was something smug in his stare. Amused. Like he had planned this just to knock me off balance. And maybe he had. Bastard probably liked the power trip.

“What is your boyfriend and his grumpy butler doing here?” I asked Layla.

My voice came out flat, even as my pulse kicked up a notch. But my feet weren’t moving yet. Not because I was scared. Definitely not because I cared. Just… mentally recalibrating. Like a computer being forced to install a surprise update.

And the update was Jax. Here. Looking like a walking bad decision. And me, an idiot, apparently still glitching over it.

We eventually walked over, Addy was already tossing out excited hellos, practically bouncing. I didn’t hear whatever response Adam gave. I couldn’t. All I could feel was Jax’s gaze drilling into the side of my skull like a curse. My phone buzzed in my hand and I practically clutched it like a lifeline.

“Our Uber’s here,” I said, loud and relieved. Then he spoke.

“Cancel it.”

I turned to him. “Why the hell would I do that?”

He held up two Arcadia Bloom tickets between two fingers like a peace offering....or a threat.

“We’re going to the same place.”

Absolutely the fuck not.

I was already considering bailing. I could do that. I had free will. I could go home, drink and forget that Jax's stupid mouth existed.

Then Addy opened the backseat door like it was Christmas morning and jumped in, excitedly telling me to cancel the Uber.

Fucking betrayal.

And just like that, I knew I was screwed.

Literally and emotionally.

Then Jax opened the passenger side door, I slid in. Regretted it immediately.

Because then he was there. Still standing outside the closed door, close enough that his scent crept in and invaded me.

Cigarette smoke, of course. But beneath that, something unfairly good...like leather and whatever sin smells like. Sexy in a way that pissed me off. Addictive in a way it had no right to be.

He leaned in, one hand braced on the top of the car, and I made the mistake of glancing up.

Big fucking mistake.

He was too close. Too there. Those dark eyes boring into me, mouth close enough to taste the smoke off his lips.

“Miss me?” he murmured, voice barely more than breath.

My eyes dropped to his mouth. It was automatic.

“Fuck off,” I muttered, my voice low. He huffed a laugh, soft and dangerous. “Night like this? Feels perfect for a good fuck.” His mouth was right at my ear now. “We could get it over with real easy.”

My jaw clenched so tight it hurt.

“Stop talking to me like I’m some piece of meat,” I said, still not looking at him.

But I could feel his subtle yet satisfied smile.