Her friend, equally scandalized, looks me up and down. “I don’t get it. What does she have that we don’t?”
Blonde #1 speaks up. “A death wish, apparently.”
Oh no, I’ve started something just by existing.
I don’t have to be psychic to feel the sudden hostility. The sharp whispers. The glances. The mildly scandalized outrage. The entire mood of the VIP section has changed—and somehow, I’m at the center of it. Did I just start some kind of war?
But then he moves. He steps away from the couches, leaving the mini-drama behind him.
Heading straight for me.
I swear I can feel my pulse in my throat. Not just from the weight of their collective scorn, but from the way he’s watching me now—like I’m the only thing in the room.
My brain saysthis is a bad idea. You said no impulsive decisions tonight.
But my body?
Oh, my body has already decided otherwise.
The eye contact is electric, making me immediately rethink my no distractions rule.
His exit from his mini harem is both funny and dramatic, with the women still fully scandalized. I should be annoyed. I should be indifferent.
Instead? I’m amused. And slightly panicked.
Because I already know— I’m in trouble.
And he knows it too.