The moment Damon Bass locked eyes with me from across the bar, I felt the air shift. Not the fun, flirty kind of shift you get when someone cute notices you. No, this was the kind that makes your stomach flip like you’ve swallowed a live fish. Naturally, I did the only logical thing: I spun around so fast I might have given myself whiplash and stared at Aiden, desperate for a distraction.Aiden, of course, noticed. He noticed everything. His eyes narrowed slightly, his lips curving into a knowing smirk as he leaned back against his chair. "You like him, huh?"I scoffed so hard I nearly inhaled my drink. "No, I don’t. I think he’s a client from work. Not just a regular, though. A VIP. And he’s… odd.""Odd?" Aiden tilted his head, feigning interest."Yes. Odd. Like… mysterious. You know, the kind of odd that’s unsettling and fascinating at the same time." I was rambling. Of course I was rambling. "And I might have shaken his hand when he was just asking for his ID back, which was awkwar
I was lucky enough not to wake up with a hangover the next day, but I could still feel the slight twinge of embarrassment creeping up my cheeks as I remembered the whole encounter with Damon Bass. His dirty smirk, laced with amusement as I fell onto his lap, was stuck in my head like a bad song. I threw my legs out of bed anyway and headed to the bathroom to shower, trying to scrub the memory out of my mind and hoping I’d never run into him again—or, by some special grace, that he never came to the casino.I dressed quickly, throwing my hair into a sleek ponytail, grabbing my jacket, and heading out of the room when I ran into Aiden, who was also stepping out of his room. The difference was that I was fully dressed for work, while he was shirtless, fresh out of bed, with wicked bed hair. Only then did I fully notice the roundness of his muscles, hard and smooth, his skin silky. His abs were right in my line of sight, taut, with tattoos running smoothly over them, up to his tight chest
When I pulled into the driveway, Aiden’s car was already there, as usual. The sight was becoming a routine—his sleek black beast parked like it owned the place. Maybe it did. And maybe I was just the guest who kept forgetting he owned the place. As I stepped inside, the smell hit me first—garlic, tomatoes, something savory—and then I saw him.There he was, standing in the kitchen, shirtless, of course, because apparently, shirts were for losers. He had one hand on a pot and the other holding a wooden spoon like some culinary Picasso. A glass of wine sat on the counter, perfectly untouched, like a model in a photo shoot.“Are you… cooking?” I said, announcing myself like an emcee at a circus. Aiden turned to face me, a small smile tugging at his lips but never quite reaching his eyes. Something was off, and my “what’s-wrong-now” radar beeped quietly in the background.“I had never in my life imagined I’d see you, Aiden Scott, cooking anything,” I added, inching closer. “Shirtless, for
The sharp trill of my phone was a lifeline—a loud, obnoxious escape from the trap I’d willingly walked into. I glanced from Aiden—all shirtless glory and smirking confidence—to the phone screen. Damon Bass. Of course. My timing for chaotic events was impeccable.Relief coursed through me as I clicked the phone open, stepping back to put some much-needed space between us. “Cheryl Taylor,” Damon’s husky voice filled my ear, smooth and commanding as ever. “Why haven’t you sent me your address yet?”I hesitated, glancing at Aiden, who was now leaning casually against the counter, arms crossed, his curiosity unmistakable. Clearing my throat, I tried to mask the surprise from my voice. “I didn’t think I was supposed to send it immediately. The date’s tomorrow, isn’t it?”Damon huffed, a sound of pure frustration. “I need you to send it to me right now.”“Yes, fine…” I started but stopped mid-sentence. A strange sense of defiance bubbled up inside me. Why did I have to do what he said? He wa
Cheryl’s POVIf I were to write an autobiography, the opening chapter would probably start with this very moment—standing in front of the mirror in my shorts that stopped mid-thigh and the prettiest top I owned, debating whether to apply a coat of lip gloss or just accept my fate as the human embodiment of “meh.” Spoiler alert: I skipped the gloss. Not because I didn’t want to look nice, but because Aiden’s deep, gravelly voice had called out my name from downstairs, and I panicked.By the time I grabbed my bag and made it out of the room, Aiden was already halfway out the door, car keys jingling in his hand like he was a game show host and those keys were the grand prize.“Where are you going with those?” I asked, pointing at the keys, my voice sharp enough to make him pause mid-step.He turned back with a confused look, holding up the keys like they explained everything. “Uh, these? The car? We’re driving.”I arched a brow. “We’re going to talk to homeless people about your mother,
If I woke up one day to find out my parents weren’t actually my parents, I’d probably have a mental breakdown before breakfast. So as Aiden and I trudged along the street, his expression a mix of heartbreak and confusion, I couldn’t begin to imagine how he felt. I mean, how do you process that kind of existential whiplash? The fact that he wasn’t screaming or throwing things into the nearest trash can was impressive—or maybe worrying. Probably both.The sun was sinking lower in the sky, painting everything in hues of orange and pink, which would’ve been romantic if I weren’t walking beside a man who had just learned that his mom wasn’t who she seemed. Add to that the fact I had a date with Damon Bass in two hours—a date that was rapidly losing its appeal with each passing minute.I stole a glance at Aiden. He looked... distant. His gaze was somewhere far away, maybe lost in a memory or trying to untangle the mess the day had dumped on him. I thought about saying something—offering a p
I steadied myself as he walked into the balcony, a glass of whiskey in his hands and his steps a bit wobbled. I gazed at his eyes and they were bit unfocused so I figured he was well on his way to drunkenness.“I didn’t know you were looking for me” I said back, a tad bit timid and holding tightly to the beer can in my hand. A soft wind swept by, blowing my hair in my face and causing goosebumps on my exposed laps and arms, but apart from all that it was the soft glow on light shining on Aiden’s face, there was this distant sad look in his eyes as he kept his gaze on me, I could almost read his mind. I knew what he was thinking about, the shocking revelation that had been thrown on our faces.“Are you okay?” I said immediately after “I mean drinking is cool to forget, but you’re just going to wake up with a wicked hangover and reality slapping you in the face”He chuckled, leaning with his back on the railings while I kept my back on the wall, a few inches away from him. I didn’t thin
I was pretty shocked when Tobias picked me. It felt like a drunken choice, though, because I had always thought Tobias and Pearl were a thing. But now it seemed like they were this toxic, on-and-off couple that did things to spite each other. I glanced at Pearl, and either she was a really good pretender, or my assumptions were wrong.I was drunk too, and this was the first time in my whole twenty-five years of living that I had been picked to play Truth or Dare—or, in this case, Drink or Dare. Aside from the minor rush pumping through my head, I couldn't help but think how great it would be to kiss Tobias in front of Aiden. Not that it would matter to him anyway. Anika was right there, throwing herself at him, and she was hot. I didn’t think I ran circles in his mind the way he did in mine.“So, Cheryl—are you going to drink or—” Tobias’s voice drifted into my head, pulling me out of my drunken thoughts. I offered him a lopsided smile.“I’ll do it. I don’t want to be a prude,” I said
CHERYLFor a moment, I couldn’t tell if the thudding in my chest was from the alcohol or the words he’d just said.“Because I don’t plan on holding back.”Oliver sat there so calmly, like he hadn’t just dropped a live grenade between us. His face gave away nothing—no nervous twitch of the lips, no uncertain glint in his eyes. Just that same cool, casual mystery that had always surrounded him, even back when he was just the quiet kid in science class with ink-stained fingers and oversized glasses.But he wasn’t that boy anymore.He was something else now. A little rough around the edges. Confident. Measured. Attractive in a quiet, dangerous kind of way that made your mind wander where it shouldn’t.My fingers tightened around the base of my wine glass. “Oliver…” I started, then stopped. I didn’t even know where I was going with that. I wasn’t prepared for this—him—to come storming into my life with this kind of certainty. Not when everything else felt so undefined. Especially Aiden.Es
CHERYLI hadn’t laughed like that in a while.Not the polite kind of laughter, This was different. It was real. The kind that made my cheeks warm and brought tears to my eyes. The kind I used to have back when life was simpler and happiness didn’t feel like some expensive thing you had to earn with heartbreak.Oliver Barker.I couldn’t believe I’d run into him—here of all places, looking like he had just stepped out of some casual fashion catalog: dark jeans, a grey henley that clung to his arms in a way that hinted he’d been doing more than reading books lately, and that same untamed hair, a little longer now, brushing his forehead like it had a mind of its own. There was still something reserved about him—like he existed a beat away from the world—but that was part of the charm.I remembered him instantly.Back in high school, he was the quiet one in science class who always got the formulas right, the typ who wrote the answers with a bored flick of his wrist while everyone else scr
CHERYL“Oliver,” I repeated, like tasting a name I hadn’t spoken in years. “Is it really you?”His smile deepened, soft and unreadable, like he was trying to decide if I was real too. He looked the same, and yet completely different. The boy I remembered had worn oversized glasses and carried too many books for one person. Now, he stood tall and self-assured, the years having carved definition into his jaw and stillness into his presence. There was something easy in the way he looked at me, casual—but veiled. Like he knew more than he let on.“I didn’t think I’d ever run into you here,” he said, stepping closer beneath the café’s warm glow. “It’s been… what? how many years?”I laughed softly. “More or less. You look good.”He glanced down at himself with mock curiosity. “I clean up better without the braces and the broken voice, huh?”“Definitely an upgrade,” I teased, a grin tugging at my lips before I could stop it.His eyes twinkled. “You haven’t changed much, Cheryl - you still lo
CHERYLMy heart slammed against my ribs so loudly I could hear it—like it was trying to speak before I could.Aiden’s voice still rang in my ears, soft but firm. “Come with me. I'll explain everything, I'll tell you everything.”And then Damon’s—darker, lower. “Don’t move.”I stood between them like the axis of some cruel universe, their opposing gravities tugging at my ribs. The silence that fell wasn’t peaceful. It was the kind that howled beneath your skin. The kind you find just before a car crashes or a gun fires.My feet didn’t move. But everything inside me did.Aiden was looking at me like I was salvation, or maybe a last chance. And Damon? Damon’s face was unreadable—except for his eyes. His eyes were sharp and cold, yet… pleading.That was the worst part. Damon never pleaded.My gaze dropped to his chest, to the white bandage stark against his olive skin, to the dried blood that clung stubbornly to the edge of his open shirt.I did that. I shot him.He should hate me. But in
AIDENI should’ve known the address Damon sent wasn’t neutral ground. I mean I did recognise the address but I didn't think she'd be there too.The moment I stepped into the sleek, modern living room, the temperature dropped ten degrees. Not because of the air-conditioning, but because of her—Cheryl, sitting on one of those black leather chairs like she belonged there, and Damon, standing behind her with that arrogant smirk and a half-drunk glass of whiskey in his hand.The sight stopped me mid-step.I hadn’t prepared for this—hadn’t prepared to see her again in his space. The last time I’d seen her, she was shaking, holding a gun, her hands stained with fear and guilt. And now? Now she looked too calm, too collected, like she hadn’t just watched me disappear into the shadows of chaos.But what got me the most… was that she didn’t look surprised, maybe she did, I wasn't particularly looking at her. I was staring daggers into Damon's eyes“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” I said,
CHERYL'S POVThe sky hung heavy and gray above me as I drove, casting the entire town in a muted haze. It was the kind of weather that whispered secrets and warned of storms—fitting for the place I was heading. Damon’s house. Or, more accurately, the house Damon bought for me. My grip on the steering wheel tightened as I turned onto the long, winding driveway. The structure loomed into view like a forgotten secret—modern, cold, and elegant. It hadn’t changed. White concrete walls, dark paneling, glass edges that reflected the world but let no one in. It was still as breathtaking and lonely as the man who owned it.I parked and stepped out slowly, gravel crunching underfoot. The keypad beside the tall black door blinked awake as I approached. I didn’t hesitate—my fingers moved by memory, punching in the code he had set using my birthday. There was a soft click, and then the door opened with a sigh, as if the house had been holding its breath all this time.Silence met me inside.Thick
Cheryl’s POVI stared at the phone on my dresser for longer than I should have, the contact name glowing like it knew too much — like it was mocking me.Damon.I didn't even know what I wanted to say. What did you say to a man you shot? To a man you might've killed — who might still be bleeding out in some forgotten room?Still, my fingers moved on their own, like muscle memory. I tapped the call button before I could talk myself out of it. I held my breath as the dial tone started.Once.Twice.Three times.He’s not going to pick up, I told myself. Maybe that was a good thing. Maybe—Click.His voice, low and gruff, filled my ears like smoke curling under a door."What a pleasant surprise," he said.I froze. My throat clenched, mouth suddenly dry."...You're okay," I managed. My voice sounded far away, like someone else had spoken for me."For the most part," he said, and I could almost hear the smirk beneath his words. "But my heart is still broken. Wasn’t expecting the woman I’m in
Cheryl’s POVThe morning light streamed through the pale curtains, brushing my room in gold, but it only made the pounding guilt in my head stronger.I sat up slowly, rubbing my arms, feeling the faint bruises of last night's chaos beneath my skin. It was almost absurd how normal everything looked. The smell of bacon frying downstairs, the creak of the old wood floors in my aunt’s house, the chirping of birds outside.But inside me?Nothing felt normal.Every time I closed my eyes, the gunshot echoed in my brain — loud, sharp, deadly. My fingers twitched at the memory, and I recoiled, wrapping my arms around my knees like they could somehow hold me together.I had shot someone.Not just anyone. Damon.I hadn't meant to — God, I hadn't meant to. It was instinct, pure reflex. I had seen the gun pressed to Aiden’s head and I hadn’t thought — I had acted.Like some wild animal, desperate to protect.But the more I thought about it… the more I realized the sinking truth:I wasn’t sure I ha
Cheryl’s POVThe moment I felt his arms wrap around me, I thought everything would be okay. For a single, fleeting second, the chaos quieted. But then I looked down. My eyes found Damon’s body lying limp on the cold, cracked earth, blood blooming beneath him like ink spilled from a broken pen.That’s when it hit me.I had shot someone.I had taken a life. Maybe not completely yet, but I could see the way his chest rose in stuttered breaths, each one weaker than the last. His blood... his blood was on me.I stepped out of Aiden’s embrace like I was in a daze, my body numb, the gun suddenly burning hot in my hands. I dropped it. It clattered to the ground like it had fulfilled its purpose.“We need to call someone,” I breathed. “911. We have to call for help.”Aiden’s voice was firm but low. “We need to get the hell out of here, Cheryl. Now. Before Alejandro realizes what’s happening.”“No!” I snapped, shaking my head. My voice cracked. “No, we can’t just leave him like that. I shot him