FOUR: KISS ME, PLEASE.

SCARLETT

“Good evening and welcome to Velour,” my voice comes out smooth, professional. “Can I start you with something from the bar or —?”

“You work here?” Sylvia asks, her voice sharp enough to cut glass.

I force a smile.

“Yes. Can I get you something?”

She pouts; “You don’t have to be rude, Scarlett dear. Mother said you moved out of the house. How are you surviving? You look so exhausted. Have you been stress eating? You can barely fit into your uniform.”

Her voice is tinged with sympathy, but there’s no denying the cruel mockery that simmers underneath.

I would give anything to poke my fingers into her eyes, but I square my shoulders and hand them the electronic menu.

“I can come back if you’re not sure —”

“Life has really been terrible to you, Scarlett.” Sylvia cuts in, desperate to get a reaction out of me. “Recovering from a heartbreak and being forced to work?” She shudders, clutching Drake’s arm like it’s the most horrible feeling in the world.

“I can’t imagine having no one to massage your sore muscles like my Drake boo does for me. Must be so lonely.”

I shouldn’t have risen to the bait.

I’m bigger than that.

I should have kept my mouth shut.

But the anger bubbling inside of me needed an escape.

I tuck the menu underneath one arm, looking from my sister to her bastard of a fiancé;

“Actually, I don’t feel lonely at all”

Something flashes in Drake’s eyes.

Then it dawns on me.

The bastard thought I would be miserable without him. He wants me to suffer without him.

“You don’t have to pretend with us—”

“Why would I feel lonely when I have a boyfriend?” I blurt without thinking.

Silence.

Sylvia blinks, “you do?”

Drake leans back in seat, his smug smile faltering.

“You’re seeing someone? That was quick.”

“Yes. And he gives the best massages” The words arrive before I can formulate a proper plan. And I don’t intend to back down.

“Actually, he’s here tonight.”

There you go, Scarlett, making things worse.

“Here?” Drake looks around the club with barely concealed skepticism. “Tonight?”

“Of course.”

“Scarlett, sweetheart,” Sylvia purrs, “lying will get you nowhere. I'm sorry if you felt bad about what I said, but it’s just the truth…”

“I’m not lying.” I mutter through gritted teeth.

She lifts her chin. “You’re not? Then prove it. We want to meet this… boyfriend of yours. Don’t we, baby?” She nudges Drake who nods eagerly, his smile almost shark-like. “Sure, baby. Unless she’s lying…”

My fingers curl into fists. “You wanna meet my man so badly? Fine. Watch me.”

I dump the menu on their table and turn to the crowd, my heart pounding with a combination of panic and nerves.

My eyes sweep the room in search of someone, anyone, who is not currently attached to someone else.

Finally, my gaze lands on a tall, brooding figure standing beside the bar, his long fingers wrapped around a glass he hasn’t touched.

Bingo.

Just then, he turns, assessing the room with the calmness of someone who is rarely surprised by anything.

He’s gorgeous. Sharp brown eyes. A jawline sharp enough to cut granite.

And he looks familiar. Too familiar.

As if drawn by some kind of gravitational pull, his eyes find mine, darkening with an emotion that sends shivers down my spine.

Then it hits me.

It’s him! The chocolate-scented man from the hallway.

Without thinking, I start off across the room, making a beeline for him.

I stop right in front of him and whisper; “Hi.”

A corner of his sinful lips lift in a tiny smile. “It’s you.”

I hold his gaze. “I need a favour.”

His expression instantly becomes guarded and he physically withdraws. That tiny gesture hurts more than I care to admit.

“No.”

My heart falls. “You don’t even know what it is.”

“I don’t. But you have the face of someone about to ask for something I’m going to regret later. So no.”

I look over his shoulder, my panic heightening when I spot Drake and Sylvia already making their way towards us.

“My bastard ex-boyfriend and evil bitch sister are coming this way. I’m sorry, but I’m going to kiss you now.”

Without waiting for his response, I rise on my tippy toes, wrap my arms around his neck, and press a kiss to his lips.

The kiss lasts approximately three seconds. Long enough for the warm softness of his mouth to nearly melt my bones. He tastes like alcohol and sin, a combination that leaves me heady.

I feel him stiffen in one genuine second of surprise. But before I can pull back, his hands come up and settle on my waist.

Then he kisses me back.

The kiss is not gentle. It’s not soft either.

He ravishes my mouth with a hunger that has me shivering, his thumb softly caressing the skin of my waist.

For a moment, I forget that this is fake, that I most likely assaulted this man.

Then a soft moan slips from my lips, and the moment is shattered.

Thinking he’s about to push me away, my panic returns with full force.

Instead, he slowly withdraws and frames my cheeks with both hands, his eyes gently skating over my face just as Drake and Sylvia arrive.

“Hi, baby,” he whispers. “No tears today. That’s good. Gorgeous girls should never cry.”

Nothing else registers other than the fact that he just called me baby.

And the fierce possessiveness in his eyes…this man is a born actor.

I barely get the chance to respond when Sylvia’s fake baby voice destroys the moment.

“Harlan Kane? You’re dating The Harlan Kane?”

Harlan. So that’s his name. Quite bougie.

I pull back, linking my arm through my fake boyfriend’s.

“Yes, this is my man. You know him?”

Sylvia’s gaze bounces between me and Harlan, her eyes narrowing in obvious displeasure.

“He’s the captain of the Vancouver Titans, the most successful hockey team in Canada. He scored forty-three goals last season. Who doesn’t know him?”

I stiffen in shock, turning slowly to meet Harlan’s gaze.

Captain of the most successful hockey team in Canada? Good Lord, what have I gotten myself into?

“You seem to know a whole lot about him, babe,” Drake growls, his jaw tightening as he slides a hand around Sylvia’s shoulders.

She reddens. “Y-yeah. Part of my job, you know.”

She smiles, but I notice it’s not tinged with malice like earlier. It’s soft. Deliberate.

Then it hits me.

The bitch likes what she sees. She likes Harlan.

As if to confirm my suspicion, Sylvia sticks out a hand, “I’ve heard many wonderful things about you, Harlan. I’m Sylvia. Scarlett’s sister.”

“And my fiancée.” Drake announces, his irritation becoming more apparent by the second.

Five seconds.

That’s the amount of time Harlan spends staring at Sylvia's outstretched hand like she has herpes.

Then he threads his fingers through mine and lifts our joined hands, as if showing me off.

“Can’t exchange handshakes right now. I don’t want to let go of my baby.”

His words hit the room like a thunderclap.

Sylvia is as red as a tomato, her tiny chuckle tinged with a great deal of embarrassment as she lowers her hand to her side.

I have genuinely never seen her look so humiliated.

“The broke hockey star.” Drake says suddenly. “What’s up with you lately, Harlan? Finally paid off your mother’s debts?”

My eyes narrow in confusion as Harlan goes deathly still beside me.

Broke? Harlan?

“You seem surprised, Scarlett.” Sylvia quips, the malice returning to her tone; “Didn’t you know?”

Didn’t I know about what?

Something tells me this situation will end very, very poorly.

“Maybe Harlan doesn’t trust you enough to tell you yet, but despite his success, he’s really broke.”

Her voice drips with fake sympathy as she leans forward, as if revealing the world’s greatest secret;

“His mother left a mountain of debt behind when she passed. Her addiction to gambling and cocaine almost rendered them homeless.”

My lips part in shock.

Harlan is literally a stranger, but at that moment, something inside my chest breaks for him.

“Bit of an off march, you two.” Drake continues. “I mean, Harlan is incredible, obviously. But the debt situation is… terrible. In my opinion, broke men should never date. I mean, how will he take care of you?”

“That’s enough!” I snap, my anger finally bubbling to the surface.

I’m not sure where the boldness comes from, but my voice is sharp enough to cut glass.

“Just so you know, Harlan takes care of me pretty well. So far, I have no complaints.

He may not have all the money in the world, but he’s caring, thoughtful and kind. He never makes me feel like an ugly burden. And I sure as hell know he wouldn’t sleep with my own sister behind my back. Can’t say the same for some wandering dicks around here.”

The smile on Drake’s face disappears instantly. He looks like he’s been suckerpunched.

“I don’t appreciate your tone, Scarlett.” He seethes, advancing towards me.

Harlan steps in front of me before I can react, shielding me from Drake’s harsh glare.

When he speaks, his tone is deathly soft, yet cold enough to send shivers down my spine.

“For your own good, I’d advise you to keep a good distance from my woman, Bittencourt.

Don’t look at her. Don’t talk to her. Don’t even breathe in her direction.”

“Or what?” Drake snarls, squaring up to him.

For a moment, Harlan remains silent.

Then he starts talking and everything goes to shit;

“Three weeks ago, you transferred the sum of five hundred thousand dollars to Dean Escobar, the referee in charge of your recent Stanley game.

He manipulated that game in your favour, and I have enough evidence to prove it.”

Drake’s eyes widen in horror.

He opens his mouth to speak, but Harlan beats him to it;

“I could end your useless career tonight if I wanted to. You have three seconds to take your woman and get the fuck out of here. Your time starts now.”

For a moment, I think he’s going to argue.

Then with a deflated growl, Drake snatches Sylvia’s arm and pushes her into the crowd, hissing over his shoulder;

“Enjoy the upperhand while it lasts. Broke ass loser.”

Holy cow.

What the fuck just happened?