9

He looks up, follows my gaze. I feel the immediate tension in his muscles, the way his hips stop moving.

"Shit."

We're frozen, tangled in each other, naked and wet, while my brother flirts with a stranger twenty feet below us.

"He can't see us," I whisper. "Right?"

"The glass is one-way." Caleb's voice is strained. "He can't see inside. But if he looks up—" He doesn't finish. "We need to get dressed."

We scramble off the sofa, grabbing clothes, hands shaking. I pull the dress over my head, fastening the straps, smoothing the silk over my hips. Caleb tucks himself back into his pants, zipping his fly with a curse.

He grabs my wrist, his eyes intense. "Bella. This isn't over. We'll talk. Tonight. After I get rid of him—" He nods toward the window, toward Callum. "Meet me at the coffee shop on the corner. Two blocks east. I'll be there as soon as I can."

I nod. "I'll find Sasha."

He kisses my forehead, quick and fierce. Then he straightens his shirt, checks the hallway through a crack in the door, and slips out.

I stand alone in the glass box, my heart pounding, watching my brother laugh with a girl who isn't me. He has no idea. No idea that his best friend just had his tongue inside me, his hands all over my skin, his cum in my mouth. No idea that the line we crossed last night is now a highway with no exits.

The city glitters through the glass. The bass thrums through the floor. And I feel the weight of what we've started settle into my bones like a promise I can't take back.

I don't want to.

I find Sasha at the bar downstairs, nursing a martini and watching the dance floor with the bored expression of someone who's seen it all before. She spots me coming, takes in my flushed cheeks and slightly rumpled dress, and raises an eyebrow.

"Well, that was fast. Did you kill her or just scare her off?"

"Both, probably." I slide onto the stool beside her. "Caleb sent me out. Callum's here."

Her eyes go wide. "Shit. He doesn't know—"

"No. And I need to keep it that way." I grab her martini and take a long sip. The gin burns going down. "Caleb's going to meet me at a coffee shop after he gets rid of him. I just need to stay out of sight until then."

Sasha studies me for a long moment. "You're in deep, bella."

"I know."

"Good." She grins, sharp and approving. "Let's get you out of here before your brother decides to buy his new friend a drink at this very bar."

She slides off her stool, grabs my hand, and pulls me toward a side exit I hadn't noticed—a black door tucked between two velvet curtains. We slip through into an alley, the cool night air hitting my skin, and I breathe for what feels like the first time in hours.

The coffee shop is exactly where Caleb said it would be—two blocks east, a narrow storefront with warm light spilling through the windows and the smell of espresso drifting onto the sidewalk. Sasha drops me off with a kiss on the cheek and a promise to call tomorrow. I push through the door, order something I don't taste, and take a seat at a corner table where I can watch the door.

Twenty minutes pass. Then thirty. I'm on my second cup of coffee, my leg bouncing under the table, when the door swings open and Caleb walks in.

He's changed his shirt—a dark gray Henley now, sleeves pushed up, hair still damp at the temples. He spots me immediately, crosses the room in four long strides, and slides into the seat across from me. His eyes are dark, intense, scanning my face like he's checking for damage.

"I got rid of him." His voice is low, rough. "Told him I had a headache and was heading home. He bought it."

"And Jade?"

He winces. "I'll deal with her tomorrow. Right now, I don't give a shit about Jade." He reaches across the table, his fingers brushing mine. "Bella, I need you to hear me. What happened tonight—it wasn't a mistake. It wasn't me using you to get off. I meant every word, every touch. I've wanted you for so long it's like a fever I can't break."

I swallow, my throat tight. "Then why did you bring her tonight? Why did you push me away this morning?"

He looks down at the table, his jaw working. "Because I'm a coward. Because the thought of Callum finding out—of losing him—it terrifies me. But losing you terrifies me more." His eyes meet mine again, raw and open. "I don't know how to do this. I don't know how to have you and keep him. But I know I can't keep pretending you don't exist."

The words hang between us, fragile and heavy. I curl my fingers around his, feeling the calluses on his palm, the warmth of his skin.

"Then don't pretend," I say. "We'll figure it out. Together."

He lets out a breath I didn't realize he was holding. He brings my hand to his lips, presses a kiss to my knuckles, and the gesture is so tender, so unlike the hungry man from the VIP suite, that my heart aches.

"Together," he repeats, like he's testing the word. Like he's learning to believe it.

Outside, the city hums with life. Inside this small coffee shop, with his hand in mine and the taste of him still on my lips, I let myself believe it too.