Chapter 43

‎Seeing Sebastian with a troubled look for the first time since they'd become friends, Jackson couldn’t hold back his amusement. He burst into laughter, the sound echoing through the dimly lit VIP room of his club.

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‎“What happened?” Sebastian asked through clenched teeth, clearly annoyed. He knew exactly why Jackson was laughing, it was at him. At his misery. But despite the irritation boiling inside him, Sebastian held back the urge to punch his foolish friend in the face. He needed Jackson’s help right now, more than ever.

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‎“Okay, okay, I’m not laughing anymore,” Jackson said, raising his hands in surrender, although a crooked grin still played on his face. “Let me call her. Let’s hear what she says.”

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‎Sebastian nodded stiffly, trying to keep his cool. He watched closely as Jackson took out his phone and dialed.

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‎“Hey, Miss Jone,” Jackson said casually once the call connected. He immediately put it on speaker so Sebastian could hear the entire conversation.

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‎“To what do I owe this call, Mr. Royce?” came Caroline’s voice from the other end. She sounded cheerful, her tone light and teasing, like she was in a good mood.

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‎“I hate to trouble you, but I’ve got a bit of a situation here,” Jackson began, quickly shifting into a more serious tone. “My friend Sebastian had a bit too much to drink. He’s in no condition to drive himself home, and I’ve got something urgent I need to take care of. Any chance you could help me out and take him home?”

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‎He spoke with just the right amount of concern, urgency, and sincerity in his voice, enough to make sure she didn’t question him.

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‎There was a brief pause, then Caroline responded, “Sure. Send me the address now. I’ll be there in a jiffy.”

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‎The soft sound of her footsteps could be heard through the phone, as if she was already moving.

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‎“It’s my club,” Jackson replied. “I’ll let the security know to direct you to the VIP room where he’s waiting.”

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‎He ended the call with a satisfied smile and immediately called one of the security guards to give instructions for Caroline’s arrival.

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‎Turning to Sebastian with a grin, Jackson said, “Alright, everything’s set. Now, all you need to do is pretend to be drunk when she shows up, and when the moment feels right, confess your feelings to her. This way, you can see how she reacts without putting everything on the line directly.”

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‎He looked at Sebastian with the air of a confident mentor coaching a nervous student before a big test, like a teacher explaining a complex math problem step by step.

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‎Sebastian gave him a long look before nodding. “I owe you one,” he said sincerely, truly grateful for what Jackson had just done for him.

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‎As Caroline arrived at the club, the low thrum of music vibrating through the walls, a suited security guard immediately approached and gestured for her to follow. Without a word, he led her through the dim corridors and up a private staircase to the third floor, the VIP level, far from the crowd and noise below, where Sebastian was waiting.

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‎When they reached the third floor, the security guard guided her down a quiet hallway lined with heavy doors. He stopped at one near the end, gave a curt nod, then turned on his heel and returned to his post without a word. Caroline didn’t pause to knock. With a push, she opened the door and stepped inside, immediately met by the sharp, lingering scent of alcohol in the air, expensive liquor that clung to the plush furniture and heavy drapes.

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‎“Hey, brother Seb,” Caroline said casually, her voice cutting through the stillness of the room.

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‎Sebastian was lounging on a deep leather couch, seemingly lost in thought or pretending not to notice her entrance. The room was otherwise empty, the silence broken only by the soft clink of ice in a half-empty glass on the table beside him. His gaze remained fixed on nothing in particular, giving the impression that she’d walked into a scene already in motion, one she wasn’t quite invited to.

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‎Meanwhile, over at Cleo's side, just as Claire left for the restroom, Ryan finally spotted her. He had been searching for a while, scanning the crowded lounge with growing frustration. Unable to find her at first, he was on the verge of asking a waiter to direct him to the security room to check the cameras. But then, he saw her.

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‎She was seated alone in a dimly lit corner of the club, the soft glow of the overhead lights casting a golden hue on her skin. Her posture was slumped, her eyes distant, and her face flushed and forlorn. She looked like a lost soul drifting through a sea of noise and laughter, unnoticed. The sight of her like that punched him in the chest. His heart twisted with guilt, knowing that he was the reason behind that sadness.

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‎Without wasting another moment, Ryan walked over to her.

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‎“Hey,” he said quietly, stopping just in front of her.

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‎Cleo lifted her head slowly, her eyes blinking to focus. Her cheeks were red, her expression hazy, and it was clear she had been drinking. A lot.

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‎“What’s Mr. Abraham doing here?” she asked with a sluggish blink, her words slurring slightly from the alcohol. Her voice carried a tinge of surprise, but also hurt. Deep, raw hurt.

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‎Ryan sighed, his eyes locked on her. “To find you.”

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‎His voice was low, but full of intent. He couldn't stop his gaze from trailing down her frame. Her dress, too revealing for his comfort hugged her in ways that made his jaw clench. He didn’t like imagining how many others had looked at her the way he was now. But even more than that, he hated that she was here, alone, vulnerable, and looking so heartbroken.

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‎“For what?” she asked, frowning, still seated and looking up at him. Her breath hitched as she caught the intensity in his eyes, predatory, dark, possessive. She swallowed hard, her pulse quickening. He was too tempting, even now. Especially now.

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‎“To take you home,” he said firmly, bending down and reaching for her hand. “You can’t stay here like this.”

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‎But Cleo quickly pulled her hand back and tucked it behind her, defiant. The movement was subtle, but it sparked a flicker of frustration in his eyes.

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‎“I’m not going anywhere with you,” she snapped, her voice sharper now. She lifted her chin and met his gaze head-on. “Go meet your love.”

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‎The words hit him like ice water. She was angry, furious and hurt. But more than anything, she was heartbroken. And still, somehow, she looked him in the eye with fire.

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‎What made him think she’d simply obey?