CHAPTER TWO

Clause’s POV

Gary’s lips were soft. Too soft. And they tasted like whiskey, burnt oak, and something that shouldn’t have felt this good. But as my lips lingered against his, I realized something was off. His body didn’t respond. His breathing was uneven, shallow. He didn’t kiss me back.

My heart, once pounding with excitement, dropped like a stone in my chest.

I pulled away slowly. His eyes were open, but barely. Glazed. Lost.

“Gary?” I whispered.

He didn’t respond. Just let out a low, tired groan and slumped forward until his forehead rested on my shoulder.

Shit.

He was completely drunk.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen.

I left the room. And out of guilt I walked back in slowly

I gently eased him back, steadying his weight with both arms. His head lolled slightly, a sad shadow of the strong man I knew. This wasn’t him. Not really. Not the composed, proud, charming Gary Smith I’d been drawn to since the first moment I saw him.

What I’d done... it wasn’t right.

I looked at his face. God, he looked so broken. And I couldn’t tell if it was because of my sister’s death, the alcohol, or me.

Maybe all of it.

I didn’t have the strength to analyze it. Not now. But I knew I couldn’t just leave him like this.

I got him to his feet, his arm around my shoulder, mine around his waist. He staggered slightly, murmuring things I couldn’t make out. I led him through the back hallway of the billionaire bar, a route the staff knew better than to question. We passed no one.

When we reached the private lounge upstairs, I opened the door with my thumbprint and guided him inside. The lights were dim, and the velvet couch in the center of the room looked inviting enough for someone who desperately needed sleep.

I helped him down slowly, laying him gently against the cushions. He muttered something about rain and ashes, but nothing coherent.

He looked smaller here. Not in size, but in spirit. Like the world had taken everything from him, and all that was left was the shell.

I knelt beside him, watching his chest rise and fall.

"You won’t remember this," I whispered.

He didn’t move.

"But I will."

For a moment, I considered staying. Just to watch over him. Just to be close. But I knew that would only make things worse.

So I stood. Brushed my fingers through his damp hair once.

And walked out.

I didn’t look back.

Two Weeks Later

Everything went back to normal. At least, on the surface.

Gary was back in suits. Back in control. His eyes weren’t red anymore. His lips weren’t dry. And if you looked at him from afar, you’d think he never lost anything.

But I knew better.

I saw him at the Jefferson-Smith merger meeting. He didn’t look at me once. Not during the handshake. Not during the presentations. Not even during the awkward coffee break.

He doesn’t remember, I told myself.

Of course he doesn’t.

I should have felt relieved. I should have been thankful that my secret mistake remained hidden. But the fire inside me didn’t agree. I wanted him to remember. I wanted him to feel something, anything.

After the meeting, I lingered in the hallway. That’s when Mr. Smith, his father, pulled him aside.

His voice was sharp and cold.

“You’ve had your time to grieve. Now fix your image. You’re a Smith, start acting like it.”

Gary said nothing.

“I want you married before the quarter ends. Find a wife or I’ll pick one for you.”

I felt like I couldn’t breathe.

I turned and left before they could see the storm building on my face.

That night, I couldn’t sleep.

My mind replayed everything: the kiss, the silence, the order from Mr. Smith. It was all too much. So I grabbed my car keys and drove.

The city lights blurred past me. Neon signs. Tall buildings. Empty streets. Eventually, I stopped in front of a place I told myself I’d never visit again.

Velvet Room.

The name glowed like temptation itself.

It was a high-end sex club. Discreet, masked, no cameras, no questions.

And tonight, I didn’t want love. I didn’t want anyone to see me. I wanted to be someone else, even if it was just for a few hours.

Inside, the music pulsed low like a heartbeat. The scent of lust hung in the air. People moved in shadows, touching, dancing, whispering promises that would be forgotten by morning.

A blonde girl slid up beside me, her eyes wild and nasty.

“You look tense,” she purred.

I didn’t answer.

She smiled anyway. “Private room?”

I hesitated.

Then I nodded. “Now.”

She reached for my hand, but I pulled it away. I didn’t want connection. Just release.

As she led me down the hallway, the curtains swayed around us. A different world. A darker world. I knew I was losing control, but maybe that’s exactly what I needed.

Meanwhile, across the city, Gary sat in his car.

He’d been driving aimlessly for hours. Trying to shake off the pressure from his father, the haunting emptiness from his wife’s death, and the strange memory that had started to surface.

A kiss. But he couldn’t place it. Couldn’t tell if it was real or a dream.

He found himself parked outside a familiar place.

Velvet Room.

He hadn’t been here in years. Not since his bachelor days. But something pulled him in.

He stepped out of the car, adjusted his tie, and walked toward the glowing sign. He told himself he was there to move on, to find a woman and to please his father.

But deep down, he was looking for something else.

He wanted to feel again. To remember how it is to be loved.

And neither of us knew that we were seconds away from meeting again.