Chapter Three

Melissa

The Next Day

“Bitch, I’m on my way, alright? I’ll be there soon,” Chrissie’s voice came through the phone, all breathless excitement and chaos.

When I told her Michael agreed for her to come over, she lost her damn mind. Screamed like she’d won the lottery. I couldn’t blame her. I missed her too. I needed her. There was too much in my head - Jamal, my mom, and this new life in a house that still felt too big and too quiet.

Last night, I got a text from Alex. It surprised me. I didn’t expect to hear from him again so soon.

> Alex: Hey. Alex here. How’s your head?

> Me: It’s fine, thanks. I’ll survive.

I tried to sound chill, to downplay everything. I wanted to seem cool. 

> Alex: Glad to hear that. Um… I know we just met, but a couple of my friends and I are going out to this nightclub tonight for some drinks. I was hoping you could come.

> Me: Sounds fun, but my best friend is coming into town tomorrow. I really wanted to spend time with her.

> Alex: That’s okay, but if you change your mind, just hit me up and I’ll send you the details.

> Me: Thanks, Alex.

> Alex: Goodnight, Melissa xxx.

Still, I hadn’t seen Jamal since our little elevator session. Not that I was trying to. I hated how he could just show up and take - take my body, take control, take space in my mind like he belonged there. Like I was his because I definitely wasn't.

And I hated myself even more for being so damn affected by him.

He knew exactly how to touch me. How to unravel me. How to drag out those slow, devastating orgasms that made my body beg for more even when my brain was screaming. No one else had ever done that. No one else even came close.

The worst part? I didn’t even know him. Not really. He was just this dark, brooding presence with eyes that stripped me bare and a body that haunted my sleep. He was my stepfather’s best friend, for Christ’s sake. What the hell was I thinking? What the hell was he thinking? He was too intense, too sensual for his own good. And if I wasn’t careful, Jamal would be the end of me.

He was already in my dreams. Now, he was creeping into my waking thoughts too. I couldn’t go a full hour without thinking about his mouth on my skin. I couldn’t stay still without remembering his hands between my thighs.

I was spiraling, tense, and dangerously close to texting him. I found out he had his number saved on my phone, the day he came to “return” it. Then I heard a car horn.

Chrissie.

I shot up and bolted downstairs.

The cab pulled up, and there she was—wild red curls, long waves, loud energy. I practically tackled her on the sidewalk.

“Took you long enough,” I said, wrapping her in a hug that felt like coming home.

“Missed me that much, huh?” she teased, smirking as she pulled her shades down to meet my eyes.

“Fucking shut up, bitch.” I laughed.

We both giggled like the chaos twins we were, grabbing her bags and heading inside.

Michael was descending the stairs with some stiff-looking guy in a suit—definitely a lawyer or someone equally boring. I introduced Chrissie quickly, watching the man nod politely before disappearing behind Michael.

We went to the elevator which took us up to the guest room set up for her, down the hall from my room. It was nearly identical to mine but in Chrissie’s favorite palette: black and white, sharp and elegant, like her.

She dropped her bags and turned to me with that feral look I knew too well. It was interrogation time.

“Okay. Now spill,” she said, dramatically flopping onto the bed. “Tell me about the hot grandpa you’re banging.”

“Oh my God, Chrissie…”

“Don’t ‘Oh my God’ me. You’ve been holding out. I want details.”

I hesitated. Then I exhaled, dragging a hand through my hair and sitting beside her.

“I came back to my room after dinner on my first night here. Went to shower, right? But I forgot my towel in the room. So I came out naked, and Jamal was there. Just standing there like it was normal.”

“Shut. Up.”

“I swear,” I groaned. “I froze. And that’s how it happened. He didn’t even hesitate. Just… took over. So dominant. So fucking skilled. Chrissie, I’m still reeling. My legs barely worked the next morning.”

Chrissie screamed and rolled onto her back like a teenager at a sleepover.

“I hate you,” she cried. “You’re literally living my dream. Fuck…. Melissa”

“And yesterday,” I added, whispering now, “he fucked me inside the elevator.”

Her eyes widened like saucers. “The same one we rode up in?”

“Yes.”

“Oh my God, Melissa.”

“I know…”

“This man sounds like sex on legs.”

“He is,” I admitted. “But I don’t know much about him. Just that he’s Michael’s best friend. He’s always closed off and doesn’t talk much.”

“Well, he talks with his dick, apparently,” Chrissie muttered, eyes glinting with wicked amusement. 

I groaned and fell back on the bed next to her, arm flung over my face. “And then there’s Alex.”

Chrissie sat up like a meerkat. “Who the fuck is Alex?”

“A guy I met in the park yesterday. Around our age. He texted last night, invited me to a club. I said no because I knew you were coming.”

Chrissie blinked at me. “What? I want to go to the club. And you need to be distracted - from this hot, sexy grandpa. Text him now. We need shots.”

I laughed, rolling my eyes but already reaching for my phone.

> Me: Hey, Alex. Change of plans. My bestie wants to go out. We’re in.

He replied within minutes, dropping the club name, time, and address.

“Done,” I told Chrissie. “We’re going out.”

We had the rest of the day to choose outfits—which meant full-blown fashion chaos.

—------

Chrissie’s clothes lay scattered across her bed while mine took over the floor. Clothes, heels and makeup - we were in our element.

“I’m thinking slutty glam,” she announced, holding up a strappy black dress.

“You always think slutty glam.”

“Because it works.”

I settled on a red mini dress with thin straps and a low back. It made me feel confident and damn sexy. Something that would make eyes and necks turn. 

Chrissie whistled when she saw it. “Okay, Melissa. Who is she?”

“I don’t know,” I said, turning in front of the mirror, “but I like her.”

We pre-gamed with a bottle of vodka we snuck in from Michaela's cellar. By the time we called our ride, our cheeks were flushed, our lipstick perfect, and our heels sky-high.

“Are you ready to forget Jamal for one night?” Chrissie asked as we stepped into the cab.

“I’m ready to try,” I whispered.

Outside, the town lights were pulsing. My heart beat in time with them. Tonight, I wouldn’t think about his hands or his mouth or the way he made me feel like I was his.

Tonight, I’d dance, drink, and maybe let another guy get close enough to remind me that there were still other men in the world.

Men who didn’t make me lose control. Men who weren’t forbidden. Or dangerous to my mental health. Or intoxicating. But even as I said it - even though I meant it - I could still feel Jamal under my skin. And I had no idea how to get him out.

The club Alex invited us to was lit. Loud music blasted from hidden speakers, vibrating through the walls and pulsing under our feet. The air was thick with sweat, perfume, and spilled liquor. Drunk, sweaty bodies moved like waves, grinding and writhing on the dance floor. Despite everything going on in my life, I was starting to feel loose. I needed this—to forget. To feel something other than chaos.

Chrissie was already dragging me inside, screaming something about tequila shots, her excitement contagious. I let her take the lead, momentarily forgetting everything. I scanned the crowd and quickly spotted Alex in the VIP section. He looked relaxed, surrounded by people who didn’t seem like the kind of friends I expected him to have. Suits. Watches that screamed money. I hadn’t taken him for the flashy type.

We made our way over, and Alex stood, looking genuinely happy to see me.

"Melissa, I'm so glad you came," he said, pulling me into a hug. His voice was warm. "You look absolutely stunning."

"Nice to see you too, Alex. Um… this is my best friend Chrissie. Chrissie, meet Alex."

Alex turned to Chrissie, gave her a slow once-over, then flashed a charming smile. "Pleasure."

We sat down and he ordered drinks like a man who owned the place. Maybe he did. Either way, we were having a great time—talking, drinking, laughing. At some point, Chrissie pulled me onto the dance floor. We danced hard, not caring how ridiculous we looked. The music coursed through me, and for the first time in days, I let go.

Until I felt hands on my waist.

I turned, and an average-looking guy leaned in, voice brushing my ear. "Allow me to buy you a drink."

I shot Chrissie a look. She winked and waved me off like a proud mother sending her kid off to kindergarten. I didn’t want to disappoint her—or overthink—so I followed him.

At the bar, I asked for a martini. He leaned over, whispering something to the bartender before turning back to me.

"What’s your name, beautiful?" His gaze didn’t blink. Didn’t shift. It crawled over me.

"Melissa. Yours?"

"Jake," he said, smiling. "You’re too beautiful to be dancing alone."

My smile was forced. I was already regretting this. Something about him felt off—his posture, his grin, the way he scanned the room like he was hunting.

I brought the drink to my lips but hesitated. The rim of the glass felt cold, wrong.

Moments later, the club tilted sideways. I blinked hard. My vision blurred, spinning slow and lazy like I was underwater.

My breathing grew shallow. I turned to look for Chrissie or Alex, but their faces were swallowed by the crowd. Jake’s voice turned into a low hum, like a mosquito buzzing in my ear.

"Don’t worry, sweetheart," he whispered. "You’re coming home with me tonight."

Panic screamed inside me, but my limbs didn’t listen. He hooked an arm around me and started guiding—no, carrying—me toward the exit. I couldn’t fight him. I could barely stand.

We were almost outside when a sharp throat-clearing cut through the noise.

The cologne hit me first—woodsy, strong, familiar. Then came the voice.

"Let her go."

Jake froze.

Even in my haze, I saw the shift in his posture. His shoulders tightened like a child caught stealing. I turned my head sluggishly and saw him—Jamal. Towering. Unmoving. Fury radiated from him.

"Who the hell are you—?" Jake started but then stopped. Recognition dawned in his eyes.

He let me go.

My knees gave out. I collapsed to the pavement, the world swirling. Jake took a step back—then another—then vanished into the crowd like a roach when the light switches on.

I wanted to speak. To say thank you. To scream. But all I could do was groan softly.

Jamal knelt, his strong arms wrapping around me like a fortress.

He lifted me bridal-style and carried me to his car like I weighed nothing. He opened the back door, gently laid me down, and tucked his jacket over my bare legs. My phone buzzed in his hand. He typed something. I heard the whoosh of a sent message.

"I texted Chrissie," he murmured. "Told her you're safe. She’s staying with Alex tonight."

I tried to ask how he knew that, but sleep yanked me under before the thought even finished forming.

—-----

Fuck. My head.

The pounding behind my eyes was merciless. I sat up and squinted at the unfamiliar room. The walls were dark grey, the decor sleek and expensive. This was definitely not my room—or Chrissie’s. A low wave of panic crept in.

Where the hell was I?

I slid out of bed and padded toward the door. The cool floor bit at my bare feet as I crept downstairs. I followed the scent of coffee and the sound of a voice until I reached the kitchen.

Jamal.

He sat at the kitchen island, phone to his ear, one hand wrapped around a mug of coffee. He looked up when he saw me, nodding toward the seat across from him. I sat slowly, heart still racing.

He ended the call and turned to me. "Good morning, sweetheart."

I nodded stiffly. "Why am I here?"

"Don’t look at me like that," he said, amusement in his eyes. "I did you a favor. That guy was going to drug you—maybe worse. I wasn’t going to let that happen."

The memories slammed back into place. Jake. The bar. The spinning. The whispered threat. And Jamal—Jamal pulling me from the edge.

I rubbed my temples. "Why were you at the club? Are you stalking me now?"

He laughed, deep and amused. "No, darling. I own that club."

I blinked. "Excuse me?"

He took a sip of coffee, then met my gaze. "And that boy—Alex. He’s my son."

The silence was deafening.

I stared at him, mouth parted, brain buffering. "You’re fucking with me. You’re lying."

He shrugged. "I’m not. He hates me. Wants nothing to do with me. I’m sure he didn’t want you to know."

I shook my head. "That doesn’t make sense. He never mentioned you. Not once. He talked about my mom. He told me things. He knew I lived here."

Jamal sighed, leaned forward. "Melissa, Alex doesn’t tell people I’m his father. We haven’t had a good relationship in years. He’s angry. Blames me for things I did and didn’t do."

I didn’t know whether to scream, cry, or laugh. This was too much. I looked around, tried to ground myself, but nothing felt real.

"Does he know about us?" My voice was tight.

"I doubt it. And if he does—" Jamal shrugged, "—I don’t care."

I stood abruptly. "I need to go home. I need to talk to Chrissie. Make sure she’s okay."

He looked me over, a heat entering his eyes that I recognized all too well.

"I’d rather bury myself inside you right now," he said, standing slowly and closing the distance between us. His voice dropped. "But I’ll restrain myself. I’ll get dressed and grab my keys."

Then he disappeared up the stairs.

I stood frozen in the kitchen, his words echoing in my head.

What the fuck have I gotten myself into?