Page 19

Chapter 18

Deirdre

“I was never really insane except upon occasions when my heart was touched.” Edgar Allan Poe

O ur room is buzzing with excitement as Claire and I put the final touches on our outfits. Music plays softly in the background, but I’m only half listening, my focus split between my reflection in the mirror and Claire hyping herself up as she applies a final coat of lip gloss.

Claire looks drop-dead gorgeous in her red dress. It’s tight, silky, and stops just above mid-thigh. The neckline plunges just enough to tease, and the back dips low, showcasing her toned figure. Paired with her gold heels and flowing blonde locks, she looks like she walked straight out of a magazine.

I glance down at my own outfit—well, Claire’s—but it’s my signature black color. A mini dress that clings to every curve, the long sleeves balance out the way it hugs my hips and accentuates my legs. It’s simple but striking, with a high neckline that makes up for the short hem. Paired with my strappy black heels, it’s enough to make me feel confident, even though my nerves are buzzing beneath the surface.

“All right, time to break some hearts.” Claire smirks, tossing her lipstick into her purse.

“Or just get a drink,” I tease, grabbing my bag.

We take a cab to Salvation, the familiar neon glow of the bar greeting us as we step onto the sidewalk. The moment we push through the doors, the scent of liquor, men’s cologne, and a mix of aged wood envelops us. Low lighting sets the mood as I spot a dancer on the stage with men captivated by her moves. The music pulses through the speakers and bodies move in sinuous accompaniment on the dance floor set off to the side of the stage.

As we approach the bar, I spot Gabe. He’s shaking up a cocktail and setting up glasses on top of the bar in a single line. When he is mid-pour, he glances up and sees us, he pauses for just a second before he lets out a low whistle. One of his regular customers turns to look in our direction, and his eyes travel up and down our bodies. I try to ignore the overwhelming wave of self-consciousness I feel. Gabe hands him his drink as the customer turns back toward him, pulling a wad of cash from his pocket before walking off.

I see the regulars are being generous tonight.

“Well, damn. Look at you two,” he smirks, resting his forearms on the counter as we slide into our usual spots. “If I’d known you were coming dressed to kill, I would’ve put on something fancier than this.” He gestures to his usual black T-shirt and jeans.

“Don't lie, Gabe. You like the attention,” Claire teases, winking as she leans into the bar.

He grins but turns his attention to me, his expression shifting into something more familiar. "So, boss lady, enjoying the extra time off from work?”

I roll my eyes as he slides me a drink menu I don’t need. “I guess. But once Professor McKnight stops burying me in assignments, I’ll pick up a few shifts.”

At the mention of Kieran, Claire lets out a knowing hmm before casually adding, “Yeah, because she really needs the extra help in that class.”

I shoot her a warning glare, but it’s too late. Gabe catches the change in my expression instantly, his brows lifting in curiosity. “Wait. Hold on. What did you say?”

Claire bites her lip to keep from laughing as she takes a sip of the drink Gabe just placed in front of her. “Oh, nothing. Just that Deirdre has some extra motivation in Professor McKnight’s class.”

My face heats instantly. Traitor.

Gabe’s eyes flicker between us, then settle on me. “Tell me she is joking, D.”

I swallow, hesitating. But what’s the point in lying? He’s going to figure it out, anyway.

Taking a breath, I meet his gaze and confess, “So, remember the night you warned me to stay away from K—Professor McKnight?” I pause, “Well, I didn’t exactly listen.” I attempt to stifle my smirk and brace myself for him to freak out.

Gabe’s reaction is immediate. His easy-going demeanor stiffens, and his jaw ticks. “Are you serious?” His voice is low, almost disbelieving.

I nod, bracing myself for the big brother speech.

He exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair. “D, I know you’re smart, but damn. Do you not remember how uncomfortable he made you feel that night you waited on him? Not to mention, the absolute grave you’re going to dig if the wrong person finds out?”

His concern warms me. Gabe has always been protective, but I don’t need his warning. I already know the risks.

“He didn’t make me uncomfortable. He was just intense. Gabe, he’s not what you think,” I say, choosing my words carefully. “ He’s …careful. He treats me well.”

Gabe studies my face, trying to over analyze my expression. “You sure ?”

I nod, but deep down, a flicker of doubt gnaws at me. If Kieran and I were as solid as I just made it sound, then why am I wondering where he is tonight? Why does it feel like I’m still waiting for him to let me in completely?

Gabe sighs, shaking his head but somewhat relenting in his protective nature. “All right. If you say he’s good to you, I won’t keep scolding. But if he screws up, D…”

“I know,” I cut in, giving him a small smile. “You’ll be the first in line to kick his ass.”

“Um, get behind me, sir!” Claire pipes up.

He smirks, finally easing up. “Damn right.”

Claire nudges my arm playfully. “Okay, enough about Deirdre’s secret romance. We came here to drink and have fun. Gabe, how ‘bout a round of shots?”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “Yeah, yeah. Just don’t puke on my bar, princess.”

As he turns to grab the drinks, I exhale, hoping my expression doesn’t betray the mess of emotions swirling inside me. Because no matter how much I want to pretend I was confident in my answer to Gabe, I can’t ignore the lingering uncertainty settling in my chest.

For a Saturday night, I’m surprised at how busy Salvation is. The night is electric with the pulsing bass of the music, flashing lights, and the warm haze of alcohol buzzing beneath my skin. Claire and I move to the beat, our bodies fluid and free, laughter spilling between us as we let the music take over. The crowd presses around us, energy thick in the air, but I don’t mind. For once, I don’t want to think. I just want to feel .

Then, that familiar prickle slides up my spine.

I glance toward the edge of the dance floor, and my breath stops.

I’m surprised to see Vincent.

He’s standing there, arms crossed, watching us. His expression is impossible to read, but there’s something serious to his gaze. Serious enough that it sends a flash of unease through me.

I swallow, forcing myself to look away. It’s just Vincent. He’s always like this. He is always watching, always calculating. It doesn’t mean anything.

Right?

“Let’s go watch the stage,” Claire suddenly suggests, grabbing my wrist.

I blink at her. “The stage?”

“Yeah! You’ve worked here for months, you can’t tell me you haven’t watched the dancers perform?”

I shake my head, frowning. “I usually have better things to do, like serve drinks and avoid drunk idiots.”

Claire rolls her eyes. “Come on. Live a little.”

Before I can protest, she tugs me through the crowd toward the center of the club, where the main stage is set up. A dancer is already performing, moving with an effortless grace that keeps the audience spellbound. I let Claire pull me toward the front, close enough to feel the vibration of the music deep in my bones.

I’ve never really paid attention to this part of Salvation before. It was always just background noise, a world I worked in, but I never engaged with. Just like the VIP club, I really only worked back there if I had to. I preferred to remain completely unseen and unnoticed. Until Kieran. Now, standing here, watching the way the crowd is captivated, the way the dancer commands every gaze, I realize how much I’ve ignored.

As I’m watching her, captivated just like everyone else in the audience, a chill runs down my spine.

I glance over my shoulder.

Vincent is there again.

He’s closer now, standing off to the side of the stage, half in the shadows. And he’s still watching me.

Why?

I force myself to take a breath. You’re being paranoid, Deirdre. Vincent has always been protective of you. He’s your boss. He’s looked out for you since the day you started working here. He’s chased off drunk assholes, made sure you got home safe, and never once let anyone mess with you.

So why does his stare feel so different tonight?

I shake the thought away. He’s just keeping an eye on things, like he always does. That’s his job. He’s making sure everything is under control.

But then he pulls out his phone, types out a message, and slips it away just as quickly.

His gaze never leaves me.

A slow, uneasy knot tightens in my stomach.

I turn back toward the stage, pretending I don’t feel the weight of his stare. Pretending it doesn’t make my pulse quicken for all the wrong reasons.

It’s just Vincent.

He’s always looked out for you.

So why does it feel like he’s watching you for an entirely different reason now?

Claire is still raving about the performance as I grab her hand and pull her back toward the bar.

“Oh my God,” she gushes. “Did you see the way she moved? That was the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen in my life. I need to take a pole dancing class.”

I roll my eyes, though I can’t help but smile. “You can barely walk in heels sober, Claire.”

She gasps, hand flying to her chest in mock offense. “Rude. I’m graceful when I want to be.”

“Sure,” I say, dragging her the rest of the way to the bar.

I exhale the second we reach Gabe. I don’t even fully realize how on edge I’ve been until I’m standing next to him, his presence grounding me.

“What’s up with Vincent tonight?” I ask, leaning in slightly so only he can hear.

Gabe raises an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

I shoot him a look. “Don’t act dumb. He’s been watching me all night . Did you say something to him about Kieran?”

Gabe doesn’t know about Kieran being a shareholder so I don’t see why he would say anything, but my paranoia is getting the best of me.

“D, I haven’t said anything.” He holds up his fingers in Scout’s honor.

“He’s being weird. He watched me on the dance floor, then near the stage. He keeps pulling out his phone like he’s texting someone, then disappears into the shadows like some kind of crime boss.”

Gabe snorts, and I glare at him.

He shrugs. “Look, I don’t know, D. He’s always been protective of you, but if he’s being extra weird, maybe he’s just in a mood. You know how he gets.” He places two shot glasses of clear chilled liquid before me and Claire.

I don’t respond, just press my lips together. I do know how Vincent gets, but something about tonight feels different .

Right on cue, Vincent passes by the bar, his expression unreadable. He doesn’t look at me, doesn’t acknowledge any of us, just walks straight toward the back and disappears into his office, shutting the door behind him.

Nope. I’m officially done with tonight.

I grab the last shot in front of me and knock it back. Claire follows my lead, slamming her glass onto the counter and grinning at me.

I grab her wrist. “All right, drunky. Time to go.”

She whines dramatically, head falling onto my shoulder. “But I was having so much fun .”

Gabe, ever the responsible one, is already pulling his phone out. “Yeah, yeah. Your cab is on the way, lightweight.”

Claire flips him off, but she’s too tipsy to put any real heat behind it.

The ride back to campus is a blur of Claire’s drunken rambling and me staring out the window, anxiety curling tight in my chest. Between Vincent acting off and Kieran’s absence tonight, I can’t shake the feeling that something is just… wrong .

Once we’re back in our dorm, Claire collapses onto her bed with a groan. “I am never drinking again.”

I snort and walk over to her side of the room, setting the trash can down on the floor next to the bed. “Just in case. Make sure you aim.”

She mumbles something incoherent into her pillow, and within seconds, she’s snoring softly.

I slip out of my dress and change into the one shirt of Kieran’s I have before climbing into bed. My phone feels heavy in my hand as I stare at our last conversation.

He didn’t text me all night.

I bite my lip, debating. I don’t want to be that girl, the clingy, needy one. But my fingers move on their own, typing out a simple message.

Deirdre: Wish you were here tonight.

I hit send before I can second-guess myself, but the regret is immediate.

Why did I send that?

I stare at the screen, my stomach twisting. The three little dots never appear. No response.

My anxiety spikes, swirling in my chest like a storm.

I turn onto my side, hugging the pillow close. I try to tell myself it’s fine. That I’m overthinking. That Kieran did have something to take care of, and that’s why he wasn’t there.

But as the minutes stretch into an hour with no reply, that rationalization does nothing to stop the gnawing feeling inside me.

As the hours roll on, sleep doesn’t come easily.