Chapter 11: Aftershocks

Samantha's POV)

"I promise it's nothing to worry about," Rick said, though the tight, lethal set of his jaw completely contradicted his words. The warmth that had been filling the room just moments ago vanished.

"I really hate to leave like this, but..." He drifted off, his eyes scanning my 

face.

"But you have to leave, don't you?" I finished for him. 

My heart was hammering against my ribs, a sudden mix of adrenaline and disappointment.

"Yeah, I do. There's something that needs my attention," he said, throwing his heavy jacket back on over his broad shoulders. He stepped in close, grabbing my chin and tilting my face up to lock his eyes onto mine. "Can I call you later... when it's all sorted?"

He looked like he was holding his breath. 

"Look I…” I started to decline.

“Please ?”. He interrupted.

I sensed the desperation in his voice. Yeah, sure," I breathed.

He gave me one tight nod and headed out, the front door clicking shut behind him.

I slumped onto my couch, but the apartment suddenly felt way too quiet. I pulled a pint of ice cream from the freezer and turned on my favorite show, trying to force my brain to focus on the screen. But as I stared blankly at the TV, my mind kept racing back to the cold edge in his voice when he told his men to load up the truck.

Today wasn't a normal day. And deep down, I knew things were about to get complicated.

                   ~~~~

"...and he hasn't texted or called you since then? It's been 3 days!” 

Chloe and I were having our lunch break at a small restaurant a few minutes away from our office.

"Yeah, he hasn't," I sighed, swirling my straw around my glass. "I don't even know why it's getting to me this much. We're just friends." I almost choked on my own words, suddenly finding the pattern on the tabletop fascinating just to avoid eye contact with her.

Chloe wasn't having it. "Friends my ass," she laughed, leaning across the table. "Look, he's a total hottie, younger or not. He's self-aware, caring, and honestly? Possessive. That man has zero intentions of just being your friend. What I don't get is why he isn't reaching out. Men are so stressful."

"You know what? I'm going to get my mind off it. I'm going to focus on myself and not lose sleep over a man."

"Right," Chloe giggled, taking a sip of her drink. "I totally believe you."

"You should be on my side, babe!" I cried out.

"I am one hundred percent on your side."

I groaned, putting my head in my hands as the reality of the situation finally crashed over me. "Oh my God... I think I like him."

"Oh, shocker," Chloe laughed.

I glared at her through my fingers. She was entirely enjoying this.

"But he's just too young for me," I admitted, my voice dropping as my insecurities crept in. "I'm not about to be anyone's experiment with relationships. I don't think I could take another heartbreak."

"I think he's different," Chloe said softly, her playful tone fading into something genuine. "And honestly, you two suit each other."

I chewed on my lower lip, the memory of Rick holding his breath, asking me to let him call, flashing through my mind. "I should probably call him, right? What if he's hurt? He seemed pretty tense the last time we were together. Maybe... maybe we could just go to his bar after work? We could get those tiny tattoos we talked about." I blinked rapidly, giving her my best puppy-dog eyes to compel her.

"Don't give me those eyes, it won't work." She rolled her eyes and went back to eating her food.

"C'mon, please? I can't stop thinking about him, and I'm too proud to text first. Mmmhh? Please, please, please..."

"Alright, alright," Chloe gave in, raising her hands in defeat. "But our drinks tonight are on you."

"Deal," I answered happily, a sudden wave of nervous excitement fluttering in my stomach.

"Okay, let's hurry up then. Lunchtime is almost over.”

                       ~~~~

By the time I got home after work, the nervous energy under my skin had turned into outright determination. I wasn't going to sit around looking like a desperate woman waiting by the phone. If I was going to show up at his bar unannounced, I was going to make sure he remembered exactly what he was missing.

My bedroom looked like a hurricane had hit it. Clothes were tossed across the bed, discarded jeans slumped on the floor, and tops hung hazardly from the closet door. Nothing felt right. Too casual. Too desperate. Too boring.

Finally, I pulled out the weapon of choice. It was the hottest mini dress I owned—a rich emerald green silk that clung to every single curve like a second skin and left absolutely nothing to the imagination. I slipped on a pair of very nasty heels that made my legs look a mile long.

When I stepped out of the bathroom, Chloe’s jaw practically hit the floor. She looked just as hot, wearing a sleek outfit that turned her into an absolute showstopper.

"You look like a woman on a mission, Sammie," she breathed, her eyes sweeping over me. "That dress should be illegal."

I caught my reflection in the full-length mirror. A slow, confident smile touched my lips.

"Good," I said, smoothing down the fabric. "I'm going to make him yearn more than he has ever done.”

I scanned her outfit too and exclaimed. “You look good too bishh!”

She gave me twirl to make my point.

We piled into Chloe’s car, the bass from the radio humming under our feet as we drove toward the bar. My heart pounded a steady, eager rhythm against my ribs. I couldn't wait to see the exact moment the cold, ruthless mask slipped off Rick's face when he saw me.

When Chloe pulled into the gravel lot, the bar was just as packed as usual. The neon sign buzzed loudly against the twilight sky, and cars spilled out into the grass. Inside, the energy was electric. Concierges were huddled in corners having intense meetings, people were losing themselves on the dance floor, and the bar was packed three-deep with patrons getting drinks. Up on the second floor, a steady stream of singles and couples were heading up to get tatted.

"Where is he?" I asked no one in particular as I scanned the crowded room, looking for that familiar, towering frame.

"I'm sure he's here somewhere," Chloe said, shouting slightly over the music. "Let's go get something to drink, it's going to be a fucking good night."

We both strutted to an open table, the click of our heels lost in the thumping bass, though a few heads definitely turned as we passed. And just after settling into our booth, a waitress walked up to us.

"Good evening ladies, I'll be serving your table tonight. What would you like to have?"

The waitress was a skinny blonde with sleek hair tied tightly in a bun, wearing a mini uniform that seemed to be the mandatory dress code for the staff.

"We'll do two spicy passionfruit margaritas, please," Chloe ordered smoothly, giving the girl a polite smile.

And just when the waitress turned and was about to leave, I called her back. "Is your boss here tonight?"

The blonde paused, looking at me for a split second before answering. "Yes, ma'am. He's upstairs in his office. Excuse me ladies."

She slipped away into the crowd.

Chloe leaned across the table, clearing her throat with a mischievous smirk. "Well, there goes your chance, babe."

I looked at her, the sudden weight of the crowded room pressing in on me. The confidence from my bedroom mirror flickered, replaced by a sudden, sharp spike of nerves.

"I'm going to need some alcohol in my system first," I admitted, staring up at the closed door of the second-floor office.