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I’ve come this far. There’s no way I’m giving up so easily. Out of a club of dozens of people, someone has to know more about Nectar and the ties to the Belluccis and Tucos.

My solution arrives in the form of the VIP section. The bouncer that’s standing guard over the entrance walks off, called somewhere else for the moment. I push my way through the crowd to the other side of the club, then pause for a second or two, waiting to make sure no one else is watching.

I take the leap, hurrying past the entrance into the secluded, roped off section. My pulse is beating hard in my veins. I assume I’m in the clear until a hand clamps shut around my upper arm and nearly pulls me off balance.

Shit, the bouncer’s back!

But as I look up to see who’s grabbed hold of me, I realize I’m wrong. The bouncer’s nowhere in sight.

Lincoln stands before me, gripping my arm with no intention of letting go.

24

PORTIA

“Lincoln?”I choke out, wrenching my arm out of his grasp. “What the hell are you doing here? Did you follow me?”

He gives a roll of his eyes. “Following you? Jesus Christ, Portia, the world doesn’t revolve around you.”

“Youdidbreak into my apartment just a few weeks ago.”

“Your landlord gave me a key. Big difference.”

“A key that no longer works,” I say, folding my arms. “We’ve changed the locks and threatened to sue if she ever does that again. So don’t you think about trying it.”

“I wanted to talk to you. But just so you know… that didn’t mean I wanted you back.” He cuts his gaze away from me as if suddenly bored by my presence and this conversation.

He’s dressed up more than usual—whereas past Lincoln wore torn jeans riddled with holes and t-shirts with sarcastic phrases stamped on the front, tonight he’s in a navy-blue button-down shirt and slacks. The top few buttons are even undone, showing off a curl or two of chest hair.

His once unruly waves atop his head are now slicked down with pomade that shines under the flashing club lights. He’s shaved any scruff, showing off the cleft in his chin.

He almost resembles the man he was on our wedding day, back when I was hopeful he would make for a quality husband and he had me fooled.

Then I realize just why he’s bothered to dress up—he’s not here alone. He wasn’t even following me.

He’s in the VIP section, because he’s here with a group of dressy men trading zingers over Scotch.

They look like big-time bankers or lawyers you’d expect to find in the financial district.

Not a seedy dance club known for its drugs and casual hook ups like U4EA.

Then again, maybe that’s exactly why they’re here. Nobody knows how to indulge in some narcotics by night and parlay that into more success by day than men in business. Many of them have infamously serious substance abuse issues and regularly cheat on their wives.

What the hell is Lincoln doing with a group of men like that?

He seems to pick up on my train of thought after a second and casts me a crooked, cocky grin.

“Remember how you said I’d never find an investor for my tech startup?” he asks. “Guess what, Portia? You were wrong. It wasn’t just a pipe dream. Maybe if you actually supported me instead of trashing my dream any chance you got, you’d be able to reap some of what I’m about to sow.”

“You’ve found an investor?” I arch a skeptical brow. “For realthis time?”

He holds his thumb and forefinger half an inch apart. “This close to cutting the deal. They’ve invited me out to drinks. You know what that means. I’m practically in there.”

“That’s… that’s good to hear.”

I’m not sure what else to say. This evening has taken a turn I never saw coming. Never in a million years did I imagine I’d come out to U4EA in the first place and then run into my ex-husband about to finally make a milestone in his once go-nowhere tech entrepreneur career.

As bass-heavy music throbs and strobe lights pass around us, it feels surreal. I’ve fallen asleep without even realizing it.