Chapter 3

I was so relieved when the day was finally over.

It didn’t even feel like a first day, it felt like three compressed into one. And I didn’t want to think about what tomorrow was going to be like.

One day at a time.

That was enough.

I called Olivia almost immediately, dropping onto my couch and kicking my heels off in the same motion.

She answered on the second ring.

“Girl, you sound exhausted,” she said. “We’re going out tonight.”

I laughed before I could stop myself.

Of course she’d say that.

But the thing was the idea landed differently than I expected. Somewhere beneath the tiredness was something else. Something that had been sitting quietly under the surface all day, restless and coiled, looking for somewhere to go.

“Say less,” I replied.

I showered quickly, then stood in front of my mirror wrapped in a towel, scanning my options.

It didn’t take long.

The red dress.

Short. Feathery at the hem. The kind of dress that didn’t ask if it was too much, it already knew the answer and didn’t care.

I slipped it on and smoothed it down slowly.

The neckline dipped low enough to be intentional, the fabric skimming the curve of my waist before flaring slightly at my hips. In the mirror, my brown skin looked warm against the red deep and rich, the contrast doing something that no amount of planning could manufacture.

I reached for my body oil next.

Poured a small amount into my palm and worked it slowly across my collarbone, then down, following the curve of my chest, smoothing it carefully into the exposed skin above my neckline. The oil caught the light immediately, leaving a soft, subtle glow across my cleavage that was noticeable without being loud.

Just enough.

The kind of detail that made people look twice and pretend they hadn’t.

I stepped back and looked at myself.

Then smiled.

“Yeah,” I murmured softly. “This is dangerous.”

My makeup was sharper tonight. More deliberate. Smoky at the eyes, skin glowing, lips done in a deep berry that made everything else sharpen into focus. I let my hair fall freely down my shoulders loose, easy, the way it fell when I stopped trying to control it.

By the time I was done I barely recognized the girl in the mirror.

Not because she was different.

Because she looked lighter.

Like something she’d been carrying had been set down just for tonight.

A knock pulled me out of my thoughts.

I grabbed my bag and pulled the door open.

Lily stood there.

And immediately her mouth fell open.

“Oh my God,” she said. “Isabel.”

I raised a brow. “Good or bad?”

“Turn around.”

I laughed but did it anyway. One slow spin, the feathery hem of the dress lifting slightly with the movement.

“Isabel.” She shook her head, pressing a hand to her chest. “We are absolutely not coming home early.”

Something warm bloomed in my chest.

For the first time in a long time, I actually felt excited.

The club hit us before we even got inside.

Bass thudding through the walls. The low vibration of it already working its way up through the pavement, into my heels, settling somewhere in my chest.

The moment we stepped through the doors it swallowed us whole.

Lights strobing across bodies moving in sync. Heat rising from the floor. The kind of energy that got into your bloodstream and made thinking feel optional.

I stood there for a second, just breathing it in.

Then exhaled.

“I needed this.”

“Drinks first,” Olivia said, already pulling me toward the bar.

“Obviously.”

Two minutes later I took my first sip and blinked.

“Okay that’s strong.”

She grinned. “Exactly what you need.”

She wasn’t wrong.

By the time we hit the dance floor the music had taken over completely.

And so had I.

No overthinking. No bracing. No carrying anything.

Just movement. Just the bass and the heat and the freedom of a body that finally remembered it belonged to me.

The drinks had already started doing their job. warmth spreading through my chest, my limbs feeling looser, lighter. The kind of easy that made everything feel possible and nothing feel particularly serious.

Which was probably why when he appeared beside me I didn’t overthink it.

Tall. Dark. Easy smile. The kind of man who knew he was attractive and wore it like a light jacket.

“You’ve been dancing like you own the place,” he said close to my ear.

I turned slowly, tilting my head. “Maybe I do.”

He smiled. “I like that.”

“Most people do,” I replied.

He moved closer. His hand found my waist naturally, like it had always been welcome there, and I let it. The drinks had smoothed out all the edges of my caution and the music was loud and my body felt good and for one night I just wanted to exist without thinking about consequences.

We moved together easily. His other hand rested lightly against my hip, guiding rather than holding, and I turned slightly my back against his chest, the feathery hem of my dress brushing against my thighs as we found the rhythm together.

“What’s your name?” he asked near my ear.

“Isabel.”

“Fits.”

“And what does that mean?”

His lips were close enough that I felt the warmth of his breath against my neck. “Means you look like trouble.”

I laughed softly, tipping my head back slightly. “Then you should probably stay away.”

“Yeah,” he said, his hand pressing slightly firmer at my waist. “I don’t think I will.”

The music dropped heavier and so did the distance between us. His chest solid against my back, the heat of him working through the thin fabric of my dress. My eyes closed for just a moment, just letting it be what it was.

This is fine, I thought lazily. This is just dancing.

“Don’t look now,” Olivia appeared suddenly at my side.

I opened my eyes.

She had that look on her face.

“My brother’s here.”

Something cut through the warmth in my chest.

Sharp. Immediate.

“And?” I asked, keeping my voice easy.

“He didn’t come alone.”

I pulled away from the guy gently “ excuse me” and turned slowly.

I found him immediately.

Like my body already knew where to look.

Nate.

Standing near the edge of the room, completely still in a way that made everything around him feel louder. Dark shirt, sleeves pushed up, jaw set. He wasn’t scanning the room anymore.

He was looking at me.

And from the careful lack of expression on his face, he had been for a while.

He’d seen it.

All of it.

I held his gaze for a beat then looked away, turning back toward the bar. The drinks had made everything warm and slightly slow at the edges and I was going to use that as my excuse for why my heart was suddenly beating faster than the music.

I didn’t have to wait long.

I felt him before I heard him.

That specific stillness cutting through the noise like it had its own frequency. The warmth of him arriving just before he did.

I turned.

And he was right there.

Close enough that I had to tilt my chin up slightly to meet his eyes. Close enough that the club felt suddenly irrelevant, like it had agreed to mind its own business.

“You’re here,” he said.

“Last time I checked,” I replied, the drinks making my voice slightly softer than I intended, “I’m allowed to go out.”

His gaze moved just briefly, just for one controlled second down. Across my collarbone. The glow of the oil against my skin. The neckline of my dress.

Then back up.

Like he hadn’t.

But the way his jaw shifted told a different story.

“You should be careful,” he said.

I let out a small laugh. Loose. The alcohol taking the edge off things I would normally guard more carefully. “Why does everyone keep saying that to me?”

“This isn’t your environment.”

“You decided that?”

He stepped closer.

Deliberate. Unhurried. Like a man who knew exactly what closing that distance meant and was doing it anyway.

The air between us changed immediately. warm and charged, the noise of the club fading back like it knew better than to interrupt.

I could smell him from here. Something clean and understated that had been living quietly in the back of my memory since the first night in my apartment.

“You saw me dancing,” I said quietly. It wasn’t a question.

Something moved through his eyes.

“Don’t push it,” he said.

“Or what?”

Silence.

His gaze dropped again slower this time. Like he’d stopped pretending. Down my throat, my collarbone, the curve of skin the dress revealed, then dragged back up with the kind of restrained deliberateness that felt more devastating than if he’d just looked freely.

My body responded before my brain could intervene.

Heat blooming low and immediate. A sharp awareness moving across my skin like every nerve had suddenly decided to pay attention. I felt the cool air of the club against my chest in a way I hadn’t before my body awake and hyper aware in a way I couldn’t entirely blame on the drinks.

Stop, I told myself.

My body paid absolutely no attention.

“You’re making this difficult,” he said. Low. Like he hadn’t meant to say it out loud.

“I’m not doing anything.”

“That’s the problem.”

His hand lifted slowly and settled against my waist.

Gentle. Barely there.

But the heat of his palm went straight through the fabric like the dress wasn’t between us at all and every part of me that had been warm before became something more urgent. My breath caught. My fingers tightened around my glass. The room tilted very slightly whether from the drinks or from him I honestly couldn’t tell anymore and I wasn’t sure it mattered.

“This is a bad idea,” he murmured.

His hand still on my waist.

Neither of us moving.

“Nate.”

Her voice.

Soft. Calm. Cutting through everything like a key in a lock.

Camilla.

He stepped back immediately. Smooth. Controlled. Like he’d rehearsed it.

Like his hand hadn’t just been sitting on my waist making my entire body feel like a livewire.

“I was looking for you,” she said. Her eyes moved to me briefly composed, unreadable, the kind of gaze that had seen things before and kept its own counsel then back to him.

“I’ll be there,” he said.

And just like that he walked back to her.

I stood there watching him go.

The ghost of his hand still warm against my waist. My pulse doing things that had nothing to do with the music. My skin still humming with an awareness that had no business being that loud.

I brought my drink slowly to my lips.

The ice had melted.

I drank it anyway.

That, I thought, staring at nothing in particular, was a problem.

Not because it happened.

But because every single part of me still warm, still electric, still embarrassingly awake was already thinking about when it would happen again.