Chapter 2

“Dad?!” Autumn cried, his voice shaking as if a gun were pressed to his head. He stumbled backward, eyes wide with terror. “Is that really you? How’d you find me?”

The shadowy figure stepped closer, reaching for his arm. Autumn crouched down instinctively, bracing for the worst. How is this even possible? He thought bitterly. The first time I decided to live a little, and this happened?

But the hand that grabbed him was gentle, and the voice that followed was nothing like his father's booming baritone. It was smooth, almost soothing.

“Hey, I noticed you kept looking around, so I figured you were searching for the bathroom. Sorry if I scared you.”

Autumn squinted through the pulsing lights, his heart still hammering. When the stranger's face came into focus, relief washed over him. It was only the bartender from earlier.

“Oh, I'm sorry!” he rushed out, cheeks burning with embarrassment. “I thought you were—”

The bartender scoffed, pretending to look hurt. “It's cool. Though I must say, I'm highly disappointed.” A mischievous glint lit his eyes as he leaned in closer. “I mean… You make me wish I was your daddy.”

He whispered the last part with a smug grin. Autumn let out an awkward laugh and dropped his gaze to the floor, wishing he could evaporate on the spot. The bartender chuckled, clearly amused by his reaction.

“Bathroom's that way,” he said, pointing toward a corner near the thumping speakers.

Autumn managed a shy “Thank you” as he pulled himself up from the floor.

“You're welcome, cutie.” The bartender flashed one last wink before heading back downstairs.

Autumn glanced around quickly, relieved that no one had noticed the scene. Everyone else was too wrapped up in their own chaos, dancing, kissing, shouting over the music. He let out a long, happy sigh and made his way to the bathroom.

After relieving himself and washing his hands thoroughly, he stared at his reflection in the mirror. The alcohol had painted a soft flush across his cheeks, and the net top still clung to his frame in all the right ways. Hopefully Allison hasn't drunk herself silly yet, he thought with a smile. The memory of the bartender's flirty line replayed in his head, sending a little thrill through him. He couldn't wait to tell her he'd actually gotten hit on at his first party. The whole “Dad” mix-up? That could stay buried for another day.

Right now, he was tipsy, feeling cute, and by his own estimation, his hips had never looked better in these leather pants.

……

“Just great,” Julian sneered, flailing his hands dramatically. “All the girls at that end are whipped for Vegas, and the ones over there? I've helped deliver notes to him. What a bum party!”

His two best friends seemed completely unbothered by his theatrics. Remmy swirled the amber liquid in his glass with a lazy smirk. “There are other options, you know.”

Julian stuck his tongue out. “Well, I wish I could, but unfortunately I don't swing every which way like some people. What do you even call that?”

“Non-discriminating,” Remmy deadpanned, clearly over the conversation.

Vegas Clairemont sat beside them on the VIP couch, saying nothing. One hand rested in his pocket while the other toyed aggressively with the keychain on his belt. His bored expression hadn't changed all night.

Julian turned to him. “You haven't said anything tonight, Clairemont. Got something on your mind?”

Vegas shrugged. “You tell me.”

Julian pressed on, a hint of concern breaking through his usual sarcasm. “You're Vegas freaking Clairemont. Mila literally threw this party for you. I know how badly she's wanted to hang out with you, but you've barely given her any attention. You good, man?”

“I'm Vegas Clairemont,” he replied flatly, setting his drink down with a clink. “I do what I want, who I want, when I feel like it. Okay?”

The truth was simpler: he was bored. He had only shown up to keep up appearances. Mila's parties were legendary, and skipping one would spark rumors. But her clinginess grated on him. He needed something new. Something exciting.

Julian kept pushing. “By the way, you should really throw one soon. It's been forever. Everyone will lose their minds trying to get an invite. Your brother's not around, so the estate is basically yours. Why don't you—”

“Give it a rest already,” Remmy interrupted, his voice loud enough to draw glances from nearby dancers. “He's obviously got his mind elsewhere. Let's just drink.”

Julian muttered something under his breath and dragged Remmy toward a group of girls, leaving Vegas alone with his thoughts.

The party felt stale. Earlier, his father had shut down his request for the new limited-edition car, lecturing him about grades. Vegas hadn't stuck around to hear the rest. He needed a distraction.

Pushing off the couch, he wove through the crowd, stopping briefly to chat with a few guys about an upcoming island trip. The bass vibrated through his chest as he descended the stairs for a refill at the bar. Light drinking tonight, he decided, ordering a single whiskey.

He had just started weaving back through the sea of bodies, eyes scanning for interesting company near the entrance, when someone slammed into him. Whiskey splashed across his crisp designer shirt, soaking the expensive fabric.

“What the fuck!” Vegas yelled over the music, his temper flaring.

He lifted his gaze and froze.

The guy in front of him had wide, golden-brown eyes filled with panic, as he'd just seen a ghost. He looked frantic, apologetic, and completely unaware of who he'd just collided with. Vegas didn't recognize him at all, which was rare in these circles.

Before Vegas could speak, the stranger's hands were on his chest, desperately rubbing at the spreading stain.

“I'm so sorry,” Autumn pleaded, voice soft and helpless. “I honestly didn't see you there.”

He had been distracted, still replaying the bartender's flirty words and the two extra drinks he'd grabbed while searching for Allison. Now he was staring at this tall, imposing stranger whose shirt probably cost more than his entire scholarship stipend for a semester.

Vegas stood still, studying him. No recognition. No fawning. Just genuine panic. This kid really has no idea who I am.

The realization intrigued him more than it annoyed him.

“Autumn! Where've you been?” a slurred voice called from behind them.