Page 13

Chapter thirteen

~ AVERY~

“Oh. My. God!” Sarah’s voice is somewhere between a whisper and a scream as she clasps her hands over her mouth, staring at me wide-eyed. “You’re joking, right? He was that close?”

I nod, biting my lip, feeling the same surge of excitement and nervousness I’d felt last night.

“It felt like he was going to kiss me,” I say, looking down at my hands as I fidget with a loose thread on my sweater. “But then he didn’t.”

Sarah drops her hands and leans in, eyes alight. “Avery, do you realize what this means?” She practically grabs my shoulders, her grin widening. “It means I was totally right about Damien.”

“Right about what?” I ask, even though I can already guess what she’s going to say.

“That he’s got the hots for you!” Sarah gives me a little shake, her enthusiasm infectious. “Seriously, I saw the way he looked at you the other day at practice. He’s not exactly subtle, you know.”

“Can you be the voice of reason for once?” I shake my head, feeling my cheeks go warm. “This is my brother’s best friend, a professional hockey player, and co-owner of the biggest real estate agency in the states. Not to mention he’s like ten years older than me. And what am I? A twenty-three-year-old girl looking for a journalism internship, living in her brother’s house.”

“Here we go.” She rolls her eyes. “Avery, babe, not everyone has it all figured out in their twenties. You’ve just come back from college, and you have the privilege to take your time choosing an internship while living in a fricking mansion. You graduated with a 4.0 GPA. You deserve some rest… and sex with a super-hot hockey player who blackmails you into having a drink with him.” Now she’s giggling.

I groan, covering my face with my hands. I don’t want to sound ungrateful or unhappy with what I’ve done or the life I’m living, but the thought of a man like Damien liking someone like me is laughable.

“He’s still Rowan’s best friend,” I protest, my voice muffled by my hands.

“Don’t you get it,” Sarah says, her voice dropping to a knowing tone. She leans back, arms crossed, still grinning. “Rowan doesn’t strike me as a man who would choose bad people for his inner circle. He’s Rowan’s best friend for a reason. So, you don’t have to worry about him being a sore loser under all the money, fame, and muscles.”

I peek at her through my fingers, smiling despite myself. I hadn’t seen it from that perspective, but it sounds… logical. Damien is Rowan-approved, which means that he can’t be that bad, can he? Last night resurfaces in my mind.

“Last night, he felt different. He was softer. Not like the Damien I’m used to seeing.”

“Soft Damien, huh?” Sarah raises an eyebrow, intrigued. “I bet he doesn’t come out to play often.”

Just then, the front door swings open, and Rowan’s voice echoes through the space. I glance over at Sarah, silently telling her to shut up, before turning my attention back to Rowan.

He’s with Damien and Ares, explaining a strategy to them as they make their way toward us. The casual, confident energy they bring with them fills the room, and I instantly feel a little self-conscious, like they can somehow sense what Sarah and I were just talking about.

“Hey, you two,” Rowan greets us with a warm smile. “We’re just here to grab some sandwiches before we head to practice.”

“Oh, there’s still a ton of stuff in the fridge,” I say as if he doesn’t already know what’s in his fridge. I offer an awkward little wave at the men, trying to keep my eyes on Rowan and not Damien, who’s hanging back with a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. He looks so casual, so nonchalant. Meanwhile, I can already feel my hands getting clammy, images of last night swimming through my mind.

I rise to my feet and follow Rowan into the kitchen. Sarah stays behind, looking at us from somewhere in the back.

“You sure you don’t want to come today?” Rowan looks at me over his shoulder as he takes stuff out of the fridge.

“We’re good.” I nod. “I need a break from the ice,” I say mindlessly.

“A break?” Rowan’s raised brow brings me to reality, and I freeze. I glance over at Damien, who seems to be having the time of his life. He’s wearing a black T-shirt, his tattoos on full display as he folds his large arms across his broad chest. He’s devastating to look at.

“Yeah, I mean,” I stammer. “Were just going to hang back and, you know…” I shrug, hoping he’ll drop it. Thankfully, he does.

I pour myself a glass of water and slide into one of the barstools as I watch Rowan make sandwiches as big as my head. Suddenly, I feel a prickling sensation at the back of my neck, my hairs standing up. I look up to see Ares staring at me, one of his dark eyebrows slightly raised higher, his blue eyes piercing through me. He glances over at Damien, never dropping his brow.

What does that look mean? Everything inside me tenses up.

“Alright,” Rowan’s voice booms, pulling me out of it “Bacon and beef for Damien.” He hands the newborn-sized sandwich to Damien. “Turkey for Ares.” He slides that one across the counter straight into Ares’ hand. “And ham and cheese for you girls.” He places a large plate with two smaller sandwiches for us before placing a quick kiss on the side of my head.

“Thank you,” I say, looking up at him, grateful for everything he does for me. Every little thing that shows he loves me.

“Thanks!” Sarah quips as she walks toward us.

“We’re heading out. Text me if you need anything.” Rowan gives my shoulder a light squeeze before grabbing his own sandwich and turning on his heel.

“Have fun!” I call out after him, trying my best to avoid Damien, who’s moved behind the counter to grab a bottle of water from the fridge. I freeze as he comes around me.

“No boys in the house while we’re out,” he says, voice low enough that only I can hear. As he brushes by me, his fingers ghost along my lower back, just a fleeting touch but enough to send a spark that makes me go still. My cheeks heat up, and I glance at him, only to find him giving me a sly wink before he follows the others to the front door.

It shuts with a soft click, and I hold my breath until I hear a car engine roar to life.

I exhale and turn back to Sarah, my heart racing, and she’s staring at me with the biggest grin.

“Oh. My. God. Avery!”

“Sarah, shut up.” I can’t hide my own smile, my heart still fluttering.

“No, seriously,” she continues, her voice full of glee. “This is happening. The smoldering looks, the sneaky touches? He’s totally into you.”

“Maybe,” I admit, barely believing it myself but feeling excitement spread through me at the thought.

“Well,” Sarah says, planting her hands on her hips, “you can bet he won’t be the only one after tonight.”

“What’s tonight?” I furrow my brows, lifting the sandwich Rowan made.

“We’re going to a club,” she announces with a determined look.

“No.” I shake my head, laughing nervously. “No clubs.”

“Yes, clubs.” Sarah rolls her eyes, hands on her hips. “You’ve been cooped up here for way too long. You either come willingly, or I’ll use Damien’s tactic and blackmail you.”

“Ugh. What would I even wear? I don’t have anything particularly ‘club-worthy.’” I hesitate, glancing down at my sweater and shorts.

Sarah’s face lights up as if she’s been waiting for this moment. “Lucky for you, I have an entire section of my closet that screams ‘club-worthy.’ I’ll find something for you.”

“Or we can just chill here,” I suggest with a mouth full of food.

“No way.” She shakes her head. “You’re a big girl now. You can handle a little sweaty dancing. We’ll go get a few outfits from my place and will get you looking like the smoke show we all know you are.”

After what feels like hours of trying on sparkly dresses that Sarah brought, she holds up one last option, which is a sleek, backless black jumpsuit with wide sleeves and a deep V-neckline. I stare at it, wide-eyed, as she grins.

“I know what you’re thinking,” she says before I can even get a word out. “But trust me. Just put it on.”

With a sigh, I grab the jumpsuit and head to the bathroom to change. I slip it on and adjust the fabric, smoothing out the silky material over my hips. When I finally turn to the mirror, my eyebrows hitch.

The jumpsuit fits perfectly, the fabric draping elegantly over my frame, the open back giving it an edgy, bold look. I feel… different—confident. Almost like someone else.

I walk out to find Sarah waiting with a satisfied grin. “Well? Told you so.”

I look down, feeling my cheeks heat as I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. “I don’t even recognize myself.”

“Exactly! That’s the point. Just wait until you see how people look at you tonight.” Sarah claps her hands together, bouncing on her toes.

After letting Sarah style my hair and makeup, I truly don’t recognize the person starting at me in the mirror. It’s not a bad change; it just feels so different than the look I usually go for. Black smoky eyeshadow, red lipstick, high heels…

“We take a shot every time I trip with these heels,” I say flatly as I wobble to the door, getting used to the feel of them.

“We take a shot every time a man’s head turns to look at you,” she corrects and taps me lightly on the butt as we walk out of my room.

When we make our way downstairs, Rowan immediately looks up from his phone. His eyebrows shoot up in surprise, his mouth parting slightly as he takes me in. It’s hard to miss the glint of pride and amusement in his eyes.

“Avery,” he says, his voice laced with a chuckle. “You look…” He turns to Sarah, “Is this your doing?”

“That’s it. I’m changing,” I blurt out and begin to turn.

“No, no,” Rowan calls out, stopping me. “You look incredible,” he adds. “I mean it. I’ve never seen you in something like this. It just caught me by surprise. It looks really good.”

“Thank you.” I shift from foot to foot, feeling a bit ridiculous.

“We’re going to Soho,” Sarah cuts in, a pleased smile on her face.

“Soho?” Rowan’s grin grows, and he gives Sarah an approving nod. “You look wonderful,” he assures me again as he tries and fails to hide his pleased grin.

“Thanks.” I clear my throat, trying to keep the nerves under control. I already want to go home, and we’re not even out yet. “We’ll just grab an Uber or something when we’re ready to come back.”

“No way,” Rowan shakes his head, dismissing the idea. “I’ll pick you up when you’re ready. Just call me.”

“We might come home late,” I protest.

“And I’ll be the one to pick you up.” He nods.

“Okay,” I breathe out, knowing he won’t have it any other way. “Thanks.”

He glances over at Sarah with a not-so-subtle look of gratitude.

“Have fun and stay safe.” He reaches out to give me a quick hug and a kiss on the head. “And drink plenty of water. And no boys,” he calls out as I walk past him. “No, I mean you can talk to them, but—” He pauses, his eyebrows sinking. “Just… do you want me to come with you?” he finally asks, turning his whole body toward us.

“Rowan, I’ll be fine,” I say, my hand resting on the handle. And I actually mean it. It finally feels like I’m not going to implode once I step out of my comfort zone.

The club is packed, filled with a pulsing energy that thrums through my body the moment I step inside. The low, sultry beat of the music mingles with people shouting and singing. I glance around, trying to take it all in, but the dizzying array of lights and people swirling around makes it feel almost dreamlike.

Sarah grabs my hand, pulling me close so I can hear her over the music.

“Isn’t this fun?” She beams, looking like she was born to be here—confident and at ease, her eyes already scanning the room with excitement.

I nod, even though my insides are fluttering.

“It’s a lot,” I admit, trying to sound as casual as possible.

She laughs, giving me a quick squeeze. “Just relax! Have fun! We’re here to dance and enjoy ourselves.”

Her words echo in my head as we weave through the crowd toward the bar. Around us, people are swaying and moving to the beat, their bodies pressed close, laughter and shouts punctuating the music. Some are dancing as if they don’t have a care in the world, eyes closed, grinning. I try to picture myself letting go like that, just melting into the moment, but the thought alone feels so foreign.

Sarah turns to me as she orders two drinks. “Tonight’s all about forgetting your worries, okay?” she says with a wink, passing me a glass.

“What is this?” I shout over the music and take a sniff.

“Liquid courage,” she replies, dinging her glass to mine.

I raise it with a small smile, even though my nerves make my hand tremble just slightly. The drink is sweet with a hint of something stronger, warming me from the inside out. I take a few more sips, trying to ignore how out of place I feel, forcing myself to take in the vibrant, infectious energy around me.

Sarah pulls me onto the dancefloor, her laughter ringing out as she starts moving, carefree and radiant. I try to keep up, but I can’t shake the feeling that everyone around us can somehow tell I don’t belong here. I glance at Sarah, admiring the ease with which she moves, and I give myself a silent pep talk.

Just have fun, Avery. No one’s watching you.

With another sip, I sway to the music, closing my eyes for just a second to let myself feel the beat. It’s different than anything I’m used to, the noise, the press of bodies around me, but slowly, I start to relax, letting the drink and music loosen my limbs.

Another drink and almost an hour later, just as I start feeling a tiny bit more at ease, I hear a familiar voice over my shoulder.

“Avery?”

I turn, startled, to see the blond guy… What was his name?

“Jake,” he answered my unvoiced question.

“Oh, hi.” I give him a small smile as he stands there, a faint smirk on his face as he looks me over. He’s dressed a little differently tonight in a fitted beige shirt that clings to his broad shoulders.

“You didn’t call me,” he leans in to shout in my ear. “Yet, here you are.”

“I lost the card,” I lie and glance over at Sarah, who’s watching me with an excited smile.

“I thought clubs weren’t your thing.” He leans closer so I can hear him, his eyes lingering on me a little too long, making me feel a bit self-conscious.

“They’re not, really,” I admit, glancing down for a moment. “My friend convinced me to come.”

“Good friend.” He laughs, his eyes trailing over me in a way that sends a weird prickling sensation down my spine. “Glad she did. You look incredible tonight.”

“Thanks.” My voice comes out quieter than intended.

“We’re at the VIP booth upstairs.” He points at the second floor, which I’m just now noticing. “Wanna get your friend and come join us?”

“Oh, I… that’s fine.” I shake my head and take a step back, trying to create some distance.

Jake notices and lets out a low chuckle.

“Hey, relax. I’m just making conversation. You’re almost out,” he says, motioning toward the glass in my hand. “Let me get you another one.”

Before I can respond, he’s already plucked the drink from my hand and is motioning for the bartender. I glance around for Sarah, feeling like I need some kind of lifeline, but she’s lost in the crowd, her arm draped over a guy’s shoulder as she laughs. Reluctantly, I accept the drink Jake hands me, and we clink glasses before he takes a slow sip, his eyes never leaving mine.

“So,” he says, his gaze sharpening, “you don’t wanna come upstairs with me?

I let out a little laugh, unsure of how to answer. “I… no, I’m just going to stick to my friend.”

Jake raises an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“She can come, too,” he says, his voice dropping lower as he moves just a fraction closer.

“Um, I’ll ask her,” I mumble, not sure if he can even hear me, feeling awkward under his gaze. I turn away, focusing on the drink in my hand and sipping it to distract myself.

Jake doesn’t seem to pick up on my discomfort. He leans in even closer, his breath warm against my ear.

“So, are you seeing anyone? Or maybe waiting for someone to show up?”

I freeze, not sure how to answer, and he lets out a soft chuckle at my hesitation.

“Don’t look so nervous, babe. I’m not gonna bite,” he teases, his hand drifting to rest on my waist. I tense up immediately, my instincts screaming at me to move, but I don’t want to seem rude.

“I, um, I’m not really…” I trail off, struggling to find the words as his hand stays where it is, his fingers brushing my side.

He raises an eyebrow, his expression amused.

“Not really what?” he prompts, his hand giving a light squeeze that sends a fresh wave of discomfort through me.

He starts moving to the music, pulling me in with him, his hand never leaving the small of my back. I’ve never had anyone hold me like this, but instead of excitement, I feel odd.

“You look so hot,” he says, his breath tickling my ear. “This makeup suits you. I hope it’s not waterproof.”

What does that even mean? I look up at him in confusion, and he lets out a chuckle, swallowed by the sound of the music.

“You’d look even hotter with it running down your face,” he adds as his hand slides lower and lower until he’s gripping one of my butt cheeks.

“I think I should go find Sarah,” I say quickly, pulling away. I’ve had enough. This is too much.

Jake’s expression flickers with frustration, but he recovers with a forced smile. “Yeah, get her and come upstairs,” he says, trying to sound casual.

I start looking around for her and feel Jake’s hand around my elbow, pulling me back.

“You’ll come upstairs, right?” he shouts over the music.

I nod, muttering a quick, “I’ll see,” before slipping away from him, my heart pounding.

I push through the crowd, finally spotting Sarah, still laughing and chatting with the same guy. I feel a huge rush of relief as I reach her, tugging gently at her arm.

“Hey,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady, “I think… I think I’m ready to go home.”

Sarah turns to me, noticing the look on my face. “You sure? What happened?”

“I need to get rid of this guy.” I point my thumb at the direction of where I came from.

“The blond one? He’s cute.” She scans the crowd.

“He’s being weird. I just want to go home.” I give her an apologetic look. “I think I’ve just reached my limit. And I also think I’m drunk.”

“Alright.” She nods with a chuckle. “Let’s get out of here.”

“Where you going, baby?” the guy she’s been talking to shouts after us.

“Home,” Sarah deadpans and leaves him standing there. He mutters something under his breath and turns around.

I take my phone out to text Rowan, and he replies immediately.

“Rowan’s on his way,” I tell Sarah, who’s waving bye at the bouncers inside.

As we make our way through the club and out into the cool night air, I breathe a sigh of relief, glad to be away from the noise, the crowd, and Jake.

The house is quiet as Rowan retreats to his room after making me tell him about tonight during the car ride. We dropped Sarah home and spent the rest of the drive talking about how I felt. I could see the cautious excitement in Rowan’s gaze even though he tried to hide it.

Now, exhaustion settles over me as I make my way to my room.

Closing the door behind me, I toss my purse on the large armchair and let out a sigh, staring at my reflection in the mirror. Now that I’m alone in my room, I can finally feel the dizzying effect the alcohol still has on me. The jumpsuit still clings to me, though now it feels more like a costume than anything I’d normally wear. My fingers find the zipper, and I tug it down slowly, letting the fabric slip from my shoulders. The cool air kisses my skin as I shrug out of the outfit, kicking it aside and moving toward the closet to grab my towel.

I pad over to the ensuite, flick on the bathroom light, and let the shower wash away the night. The pulse of water is soothing, a reset that I desperately need. I step back into my room, ready to drop my towel, when a strange prickling sensation skitters down my spine.

I glance toward the French doors of my balcony and freeze.

Standing there, in the shadows of his own house, is Damien. My heart stops for a split second before it starts again, wild and erratic. He has a clear view of my room. When did he find that out? And more importantly, how have I never noticed?

It’s so dark I can barely see him. His eyes are locked onto me, intense and unblinking. I can barely make out his expression in the dim light, but his eyes are fixed, dark, and smoldering, watching me as if he’s been waiting there all night.

And I was just about to get naked for him.

My heart hammers so hard I’m sure he can see it in the way my chest rises and falls beneath the towel.

We’re separated by glass and a few feet of open air, but his stare makes the distance feel nonexistent. He doesn’t move or look away, and for a long, agonizing moment, neither do I.

My pulse is wild, but I can’t look away from him as if he’s holding me captive with nothing but that dark, hungry look. Every inch of my skin prickles with awareness under his gaze, and I feel suddenly exposed, like the towel I’m clutching is little more than a flimsy shield against whatever is simmering in his eyes.

He takes a step closer, bringing himself into clearer view. And he doesn’t look even a little bit apologetic about getting caught. Instead, he seems… thrilled. His mouth curves into the faintest hint of a smirk, one that sends a rush of heat straight to my core, leaving me breathless. There’s no mistaking the message in his gaze. It’s a challenge, a silent dare.

I swallow hard, every nerve ending buzzing as I tighten my grip on the towel. But something inside me, something reckless and unguarded, refuses to look away. Instead, I just stand there, my eyes locked on his, barely breathing.

Through the moonlight filtering through the glass, I can make out the lines of his jaw, the sharpness of his cheekbones, and that maddening smile that only deepens as he watches me. His hands slide into his pockets as if to emphasize how relaxed he is, how completely unashamed. And somehow, that makes my own embarrassment morph into something I don’t even want to name.

It’s a slow, simmering feeling that curls low in my stomach, one that makes my skin tingle and my breath catch. The towel suddenly feels hot and heavy, my grip on it tightening.

I can’t tell how long we stand there, caught in a silent, charged standoff. Every second seems to stretch, filling the space between us with unspoken tension. It’s as though he’s inviting me into his gaze, daring me to break the rules we both know we’re teetering on.

And just when I think the moment can’t get any more intense, he lifts a single finger to his lips and hushes, a devilish glint in his eyes.

My heart skips a beat, a flush spreading over my cheeks as I quickly turn away, my face buried in my hands. But even then, with my back turned, I can feel the weight of his gaze like a physical touch. When I turn around again, I’m met by the eerie darkness of the space he occupied just a moment ago.

Maybe it’s the alcohol that does it, but my grip on the towel loosens. The idea of him watching me makes me want to drop the towel and give him something to look at. But a second before the towel slips from my fingers, I clutch it again. I blink, shaking my head in disbelief over what I was just about to do.

I look up again, my eyes searching for him. I can’t see him,, but I can feel him. He’s still watching me—he’s always watching me.