Page 97 of Ruin My Life

Before I can even aim my usual sarcastic retort at him, Brie scoffs next to me. The sound is short, unimpressed, and sharp enough to cut glass. It draws Connor’s attention instantly.

He narrows his eyes at her through the mirror. “Got something to say back there, hacker?”

She doesn’t flinch. “Nothing,” she shrugs. “I just hope your charm is as good as you say—or at least better than your defensive skills.”

Her gaze flicks to his stitched hand. The same one she stabbed clean through just days ago.

I can’t help the laugh that punches out of me. Connor glares over his shoulder at her, but even Monroe’s biting back a grin in the front seat.

“You wanna go again with an even playing field?” Connor mutters.

Brie rolls her eyes. “Maybe later. For now, put the claws away.”

And just like that, she opens the door and steps out, the slit in her gown slicing high along her thigh with every stride.

Connor looks to me, his jaw tight. “You just gonna let her talk to me like that?”

“Could be good for your massive ego,” I mutter, smirking as I follow her out onto the pavement.

He grumbles something under his breath but trails after us as we cross the street.

Brie leads the way up the stone steps like she owns the building. No hesitation. No nerves. Just cool confidence and a body made for distraction. She doesn’t falter—not even when the bouncer’s eyes drag down her form and linger too long at the curve of her hips.

My fists curl instinctively at my sides. He’s looking at her like he has a chance—like she isn’t already mine, whether she knows it yet or not.

The only thing that stops me from planting this bastard’s skull into the bricks is because weneed himto open the fucking door.

“These two with you?” the bouncer grunts, his chin jutting toward Connor and me.

Brie glances over her shoulder, and for one hellish second, I swear she’s going to sayno.

There’s a glint in her eye—the kind she gets right before she decides to set something on fire just to watch it burn.

But instead, she steps back into us, looping an arm around each of ours. Her perfume wafts into my face from the gentle breeze. When she speaks, her voice is as smooth and luxurious as warm honey.

“Yes,” she says, lifting her gaze to the bouncer with a coy smile. “They’re both with me. I hope bringing two isn’t a problem... I just couldn’t choose between them.”

Her fingers graze the inside of my elbow. Light. Measured. Practiced. I don’t know whether I should feel turned on by her or jealous that she’s doing the same to Connor.

Who am I kidding? I’mdefinitelyturned on.

But it works.

The bouncer gives us another once-over, sizing us up like he’s calculating how much trouble we’re worth. Then he exhales through his nose and opens the door.

“Enjoy your night,” he says gruffly.

We step inside, swallowed by the dim, pulsing atmosphere.

After checking our coats, we pass through the metal detector. It’s sleek, non-invasive, and too damn effective—one of those high-end models that doesn’t just beep but produces a full body scan. Sharp enough to pick up a paperclip tucked into a pocket.

So naturally, we’re stripped of anything that might’ve made me feel marginally more secure.

Beyond the checkpoint, a velvet curtain sways open. We step through, and the world shifts.

Blush lives and breathes sensuality. Low-lit and saturated in reds, pinks, and soft ambers, it wraps around us like silk—thick with perfume, heat, and the pulse of bass-heavy music. A wall-length bar stretches along the left side, its mirrored backsplash reflecting the ambient light, giving the illusion of infinite depth. Velvet couches line the perimeter in semi-private little nests. The dance floor spreads out under a halo of strobes and LED haze, all watched from above by a DJ booth raised like a throne.

It’s a club made for women. That much is obvious.