Disclaimer: I do not own the characters. But the plot is my own!

Chapter 10

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Monday night, I decided to take Damien up on his offer and meet him at some discoteca he frequented. Before heading out, I arranged for Jacob to pick up Seth for the night. He didn't mind—apparently, Seth had a lot of catching up to do on the Xbox.

I was still stewing over my thoughts about Edward—the way he had looked at me Thursday night, the intensity in his eyes. The thought of our upcoming date on Friday made me both excited and incredibly nervous. He had promised food and jazz, which sounded amazing, but the idea of being alone with him again, having his eyes on me, made my stomach twist in ways I wasn't ready to unpack.

Damien's face lit up as I filled him in—Edward taking me to the art gala, running into Sage, and how he had confronted her on my behalf. Pretty much everything that had happened over the past month, how things were shifting. He actually looked proud, like he really cared that things were finally smoothing out for me. Even the misunderstanding between Edward and me on the boat felt like a distant memory now. Seth was doing great, and for the first time in a while, it felt like I was standing on solid ground.

I shifted the conversation to him, asking if he'd started taking steps toward opening his boutique. That got him going. He fawned dramatically, absolutely delighted that I'd asked, launching into a whole spiel about setting up appointments with realtors and checking out potential storefronts.

"You should come with me to one I'm eyeing," he said, practically vibrating with excitement. "It's a gorgeous little brick-and-mortar spot—not some basic strip mall space. If you're gonna spend the money, spend it right. Location, location, location."

I smiled, loving how passionate he was about it. "I'd love to."

We eventually rerouted back to Edward, because of course we did. I told him what Edward had said Thursday night, unable to shake it from my head.

Because, honestly? I did remember Edward telling Jasper something along the lines of thinking he'd found wife material.

Damien's eyes widened with delight, his manicured fingers clutching his drink like it contained all the gossip in the world. "Oooo, I hear church bells in the distance," he teased, taking a slow sip for dramatic effect. He tugged at the delicate fabric of his black floral lace button-down, grinning like he'd just won the lottery.

I rolled my eyes, but his words stuck more than I wanted to admit.

For real?

Before I could dwell on it, my phone buzzed. I glanced down to see a text from Seth and a previously ignored text from Edward.

Seth: Can you pick up some wings on the way home?

I smirked, shaking my head. Subtle.

Me: Did Jacob make you text me?

A few seconds later, another message popped up.

Seth: Nooooooo .

Yeah, right.

I huffed, knowing damn well that if Jacob had texted himself, I'd have said no just to mess with him. But since it was Seth asking?

Me: Fine. But you owe me.

Seth sent a bunch of thumbs-up emojis, and I tucked my phone back into my bag with a shake of my head.

"Let me guess," Damien said knowingly, swirling the ice in his glass. "Your gremlin wants food."

"Wings," I confirmed, exhaling dramatically. "And I'm positive Jacob told him to ask me because he knows I wouldn't say yes to him directly."

Damien cackled. "Ah, the art of manipulation. Beautiful."

I playfully flicked my straw at him. "Shut up."

His eyes dropped down to my outfit, and he whistled lowly, giving an exaggerated snap of his fingers. "Damn, bitch. You're a menace tonight."

I smirked, running my hands down my curves. Grinning I responded, "Thank you, love, you're looking pretty dapper yourself."

His hand went up to his chest. Nodding a thank you.

And yeah, I did look good. I'd gone to the mall earlier and picked up a Women's High Slit Ring-Linked Halter Dress—sexy, backless, bodycon, pure Y2K energy. It clung to me in all the right places, hugging my waist and exposing just enough thigh to leave a man wanting. My hair cascaded over my shoulder in effortless waves, and my lips were glossed to perfection.

It was almost a shame Edward wasn't seeing me in it tonight in person.

Almost.

Because I had made sure he did.

Before leaving the house, I had snapped a picture of myself in the mirror—hand resting on my thigh, my slit revealing just enough to make him weak. Hair wild, eyes sultry. And I had sent it straight to Edward.

And then, I tucked my phone away before seeing his response, because why not let him simmer?

Damien arched a brow. "Who you dressing like a meal for, huh?"

I snorted. "Myself, obviously."

He gasped dramatically. "Well, bitch, you should be served on a platter. You are a crime against humanity looking this good."

I laughed, but before I could respond, I felt a presence nearby. A commanding energy.

A woman in a gorgeous red, skin-tight latex outfit, with olive-complected skin and high go-go boots, strutted into our little corner like she owned the place. Immediately, Damien squealed, throwing out a string of expletives and something about being the fishiest queen alive.

I couldn't help but smile at their interaction. This woman's face was beat to the gods—I'm talking flawless. Sharp, arched brows, lashes that could send a man flying, and lips painted a deep, scandalous red.

"Leah, Venus. Venus, Leah," Damien waved a dramatic hand between us.

Venus leaned in, arms open, offering a hug. She smelled floral and expensive, like something out of a glossy magazine ad.

Venus smirked, looking me up and down. "Oh, honey." They reached for my hand, giving it a spin so my dress twirled slightly. "You didn't warn me you were bringing the main event tonight."

I felt my phone buzz in my bag again, and I knew it was Edward becoming impatient that I hadn't answered his previous texts.

But I wasn't looking. Not yet.

For now, it was time to enjoy the night.

"So, what have y'all been chatting about?" Venus asked, her voice a sultry rasp, like she smoked cigarettes but only in Paris.

I glanced at Damien, who immediately smacked Venus on her thigh like they were lifelong besties. "This bitch over here got herself a deep pocket and she's in denial about his interest in her."

Venus' head snapped toward me, her sharp-lined gaze narrowing. "Is he good to you, baby?"

I shrugged, grinning. "We're going on our second—"

"Fourth," Damien corrected with a sip of his drink.

I shot him a glare. "Second real date. But he seems... too good to be true."

Venus leaned in, eyes gleaming with curiosity. "Girl, do tell."

Damien, in all his excitement, threw his hand in the air. "Venus! This man chased this megalodon all around outside of Tinsel Town just to get her name and number."

Venus stared at me, then at Damien, then back at me again. Her mouth parted slightly, like she was trying to process what she just heard.

Meanwhile, Damien was still on a roll. He lifted his margarita, swirling the thin red straw between his fingers as he added, "AND before all that, he hired her from the club."

Venus' brows shot up so high I was sure they were about to disappear into her perfectly styled hair. "Oh, we got a collector on our hands?"

Damien hollered. "RIGHT? That's what I said! A rich man with excellent taste."

Venus leaned in, eyes twinkling. "Tell me, baby. Is he the good kind of rich or the throw-a-fit-because-you-parked-his-car-near-a-Honda kind?"

I snorted. "He's... protective. Confident. A little intense, but not in a bad way."

Venus hummed, intrigued. "Does he tell you no?"

I tilted my head. "Yeah, actually. He does." I thought back to how strong-willed he was on our first real outing. Even when I outright asked him to do it and kiss me, he wouldn't.

She sat back, tapping a manicured nail against her lip. "Then he might be the real kind of rich. The kind that wants you, not just to own you." She gave me a knowing look. "Be careful with those ones, honey. They'll wreck you in ways you never saw coming."

I swallowed hard.

Damien squealed. "Ugh, that was poetic, Venus! Somebody put that on a damn Hallmark card!"

We drifted from topic to topic as the party buzzed around us, our little bubble untouched by the chaos. Drinks flowed, laughter spilled over, and soon, the conversation naturally veered toward men and sex.

Venus, ever the storyteller, recounted an encounter with a very well-endowed man, dramatically waving her hands as she described the moment of realization. "Baby, I looked at it and thought, Now what the hell am I supposed to do with that?"

Damien cackled, practically slapping the table. "Not the third leg treatment!"

I chuckled, but my mind drifted to my own experiences—or lack thereof. I thought about my awkward attempts at giving head and how I had no idea what the hell I was doing. The moment the thought hit, I blurted out, "How do you properly suck a dick?"

Silence. Then—

Damien nearly choked on his margarita. "Girl!"

Venus gasped, clutching her chest like I had personally scandalized her. "What?!"

Damien fanned himself dramatically. "Not Miss Thing over here pulling out a beginner's course in a damn nightclub!"

I huffed, crossing my arms. "What? I seriously don't know! I figured if anyone could give me some solid tips, it'd be you two." I exhaled. "I mean, I know I'm gonna give in to Edward soon with all the tension, and I just—I don't want to be bad at it, okay?"

"Seriously?" Damien gawked at me like I'd just admitted I didn't know how to boil water. "How do you not know how to do that and still bag that man?"

His friend hummed knowingly, tilting their head. "Girl, the sloppier the better."

"Damn straight," Damien agreed, snapping his fingers.

My brows furrowed. "Wait, seriously? That's it?"

Damien leaned in with a wicked grin. "Oh, honey, that's just the start."

Venus leaned in, eyes glittering with mischief. "Baby, let me tell you something—men are simple creatures. They like it sloppy, they like it enthusiastic, and they like a little eye contact to make 'em feel like the king of the damn jungle."

Damien snapped his fingers. "Damn straight! And don't forget the hands, honey. Two is better than one."

Venus smirked. "And if you really want to make him lose his damn mind, hum while you go down."

I blinked. "Hum?"

Damien grinned. "Yes, bitch. H-U-M. A little vibration never hurt nobody."

His friend swirled the straw in their drink, studying me with amused curiosity. "Okay, first of all, confidence. You gotta act like it's the best meal you've ever had, like you're savoring every damn bite. That man should feel worshipped."

Damien nodded sagely. "Mmm-hmm, and lots of eye contact like Venus said. If you can get a tear going? Bonus points."

His friend pointed dramatically. "And when your mascara runs? Chef's kiss."

I blinked. "I don't wear mascara."

Damien scoffed, waving a dismissive hand. "Details, babe. The point is—commit. And don't be afraid to get messy."

"Exactly!" His friend smirked, tossing their long, dark hair over one shoulder. "Gag a little. Let 'em feel it."

Damien pursed his lips in thought. "Actually, don't gag too much. You gotta pace yourself. This ain't a sprint, it's a marathon."

His friend leaned in with a sultry grin. "Unless he likes it rough."

Damien giggled and clinked his glass against theirs. "True, true."

I exhaled, feeling both enlightened and overwhelmed. "So, basically… just go for it?"

Damien grinned. "Baby, you attack it."

Venus winked. "With love, of course."

I eyed my drink, as I processed all of it, biting my lip. "Okay... so, sloppy, hands, eye contact, gag, and... humming?"

Venus patted my hand. "You're a quick learner. This man is about to be weak for you, honey."

Damien let out a dramatic sigh. "Ugh, I love a good sexual awakening. It's like watching a baby bird leave the nest."

I rolled my eyes, but I couldn't help laughing. "You two are ridiculous."

Venus winked. "And you're about to be unstoppable."

But then something else clicked in my brain. I turned to Venus, finally taking in their perfect bone structure, sharp jawline, and how effortlessly stunning they looked.

"Wait…" I narrowed my eyes. "Are you—?"

Their smirk widened. "A damn goddess? Yes, honey."

Damien cackled, throwing an arm around his friend's shoulder. "Leah, now officially meet Venus. The finest, baddest bitch in town."

Venus flipped her hair and extended a delicate hand. "Charmed, I'm sure."

I shook it hesitantly, still stunned. "Damn. You almost had me fooled."

Venus pouted playfully. "Oh, darling, if I wanted to, I would have."

Damien laughed. "She got you there."

I sighed, swirling my drink. "Yeah… and now I have way too much to think about."

Venus sipped her margarita. "Start with enthusiasm, babe. The rest will come naturally."

Damien wiggled his brows. "Or he will."

I groaned, dropping my head onto the table as they both burst into laughter.

The night carried on with more drinks, more laughter, and eventually, the music lured us onto the dance floor. Damien, Venus, and I lost ourselves in the beat, bodies swaying, hands in the air. The club pulsed with energy, neon lights flickering over us like a living heartbeat.

Venus was mesmerizing—every movement fluid, every step confident, a presence that demanded attention. Damien danced beside them, mirroring their energy, while I just tried to keep up.

"You move like a white girl at prom," Venus teased, spinning me playfully.

I gasped. "Excuse you—I have rhythm!"

Damien snorted. "Barely, bitch."

I shoved him, laughing, but the moment was warm. I felt lighter than I had in days, the weight of everything—Edward, the auction, my past—briefly forgotten.

As the night wound down, we finally made our way outside, the cool air a relief from the packed club. Venus checked their compact in the glow of a streetlight, touching up their lipstick, while Damien tugged me into a huge hug.

"Girl," he sighed dramatically, "thank you for coming out with me tonight. I needed this."

I squeezed him back. "Me too."

Venus smirked. "We make a good trio."

Damien looped an arm through hers. "The best, bitch."

They made their way toward a sleek black BMW parked at the curb, Damien flashing me one last grin. "Text me later! And don't forget everything we taught you tonight!"

Venus blew me a kiss before slipping into the passenger seat. "Don't break that poor man, Leah."

I chuckled, shaking my head as the car pulled away. My skin still tingled from the rush of the night, and I exhaled, deciding to take my time walking back to my car.

The air smelled of the city—warm asphalt, lingering traces of spilled liquor, and the faintest hint of perfume from passersby. I was halfway down the street when a familiar voice, dripping in snark, cut through the night.

"Well, well, well. Look who's slumming it tonight."

I stopped dead in my tracks, a chill running down my spine.

That bitch.

Slowly, I turned, already bracing myself. And sure enough—

Sage.

Of all the people in this city, of all the streets I could've taken, somehow, she was here. I could've questioned how she found me or why she even cared, but honestly? Downtown was packed, Pride was coming up, and the streets were full of people. Running into someone wasn't that much of a coincidence.

My palms slapped against my bare thighs, the sound sharp in the humid air. "What the fuck do you want?"

She stood there with her arms crossed, her long brown hair pulled into a high ponytail, looking like she'd been waiting for this moment. The streetlight above cast harsh shadows over her face, exaggerating the creases in her forehead as she glared.

"You think you're so fucking great?" she sneered.

I could already feel my pulse spiking, my jaw clenching. I threw a hand up between us, cutting off whatever bullshit she was about to pull. "If this is about Edward—news flash, Jezebel—I didn't choose this shit! He came after me."

Her lips curled as she shifted her weight, one hip jutting out in that condescending way that made my fingers itch. "Oh, I know," she said, voice laced with venom. "But you think that means something? He used to ask for me. A lot."

I scoffed. "And?"

"He kept paying. Even when he wasn't supposed to anymore." She tilted her head, studying me like she was waiting for the words to sink in. "I thought maybe he was serious—but now I see, he just likes playing savior."

Something sharp twisted in my gut. Does Edward see me as an investment? A charity case?

No. No.

I shook my head, laughing bitterly. "You're full of shit."

Sage smirked, but her eyes weren't playful. "Men like him?" she said, voice dipping, her tone more bitter than cruel now. "They don't marry girls like us. They buy us. They play with us. And when they're done, they go back to their world and pretend we never existed."

I clenched my fists. "Why the fuck are you telling me this?"

She took a slow step closer, deliberately testing my patience. "Because," she said, her words smooth and sharp as glass, "you really think you're different? You're just another project. Something new. Something broken he can fix."

Red-hot anger surged through me. "Fuck off," I snapped, spinning on my heels to put as much distance between us as possible.

I'd barely made it two steps before she called after me, her voice smug and cutting.

"It's cute how you think he's different."

I didn't stop walking. Didn't look back. But I'd be lying if I said her words didn't get under my skin.

Because deep down, in the quietest, most insecure part of me—I already had those doubts.

And now, she'd just made them louder.

I reached my truck, slamming the door shut harder than necessary. My phone slipped from my grip, hitting the passenger seat with a thud. My pulse was still racing, my thoughts a storm of frustration and uncertainty.

Then, my phone buzzed.

Once. Twice. Then a whole string of messages, vibrating wildly against the leather.

With a sigh, I grabbed it, answering without even checking who it was. Big mistake.

"Leah," his voice groaned through the speaker, deep and delicious, thick with something raw. "I saw your picture. You've been ignoring my texts. You're making the wait till Friday that much harder for me."

A sharp inhale left me before I could stop it. My grip tightened around the steering wheel. The heat in his voice was unmistakable, and despite everything—Sage's words, my doubts, my temper still running hot—I felt my body betray me, that familiar warmth pooling low.

But I was still on edge. Still uncertain.

"You liked it, then?" I asked, keeping my tone light, guarded.

He let out a low chuckle, dark and knowing. "Liked? No, sweetheart. I fucking loved it."

My breath hitched. He sounded so sexy, like he was ready to do anything for me.

"I'd tell you exactly what I was thinking when I saw it," he murmured, "but I don't think you'd make it home safely if I did."

God. Damn.

I swallowed hard, fingers flexing against the leather of my steering wheel. I should hang up. Should pull away before he completely unraveled me. But I didn't. I felt my resolve drift away with the wind.

"Try me," I challenged, my voice curious and soft.

Silence stretched for half a beat. My stomach dropped. Then his voice dropped even lower, velvet and wicked. "You're trouble, you know that?"

I smirked, shifting in my seat. "So I've been told."

His exhale was slow, controlled. "Get home safe, Leah. And next time you send me something like that…" A pause, thick with intent. "You better be ready for what comes."

The call ended before I could respond, leaving me staring at my screen, pulse hammering.

Maybe Sage's words had made my doubts louder…

But Edward?

Edward was making everything else melt away.

What she said couldn't possibly hold any merit.

So I tried—really tried—to shove it down into the very depths of my mind, lock it away where it couldn't touch me.

But as I drove back home, her words clung to me like a stain I couldn't scrub out. No matter how much I told myself she was just bitter, just trying to get under my skin, the doubt was still there, nagging at the back of my mind like an itch I couldn't quite reach.

I exhaled sharply, fingers drumming against the steering wheel. Maybe it was nothing. Maybe I was just letting her get to me.

But if I still felt this way by Friday, then I'd say something.

Not over text. Not on a phone call. This wasn't some fleeting insecurity I could toss out in a casual conversation—it felt personal, too personal, like something that needed weight behind it.

I needed to see him.

Needed to be standing in front of him, looking into his soul, to decide whether I wanted to believe him…

Or drop him like a bad habit.

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