Christian
The bass thudded through the floor, rattling the crystal in my glass.
From the VIP booth, I had the perfect view of the chaos; a half-dozen of my friends tossing bills toward the stage, another cluster sprawled on the couches with flushed faces and rumpled shirts.
The air was thick with perfume, whiskey, and sweat. A blonde on stage swung around the pole in nothing but glitter and heels, the crowd howling.
Miles tipped back his drink and bellowed, "To the end of an era!"
Jordan groaned. "You've made that toast six times tonight."
Miles shrugged. "It's worth repeating. We're losing a brother to matrimony."
"Marriage isn't a funeral," Jordan said. His wedding band caught the light as he took a sip of beer. "Some of us actually like it."
Miles rolled his eyes. "You're not the best salesman, man. You left early for your wife's book club once."
"That's called commitment," Jordan shot back, but his tone was easy. He leaned toward me. "How are you holding up?"
I took a slow drink. "Fine."
Miles scoffed. "Fine? You're at your bachelor party surrounded by women who could make a priest reconsider his vows, and you're sitting there like it's a board meeting."
I didn't answer. I'd already done my share of fake smiles this month—wedding shoots, charity dinners, fittings, meetings with planners. Every one of them beside Amaya. And ever since that night in her apartment, her mouth on mine, her voice daring me to stay, restraint had been my reality.
Miles leaned in, lowering his voice like he was sharing state secrets. "Christian, you've been a monk for weeks. I can smell the frustration. Loosen up. At least get a lap dance—Roxy here is a professional at lap dances."
The brunette at his side smirked, bending enough for her perfume to hit sharp. "I promise I'll make it worth your while."
I smiled politely. "I'm good."
She pouted, Miles groaned, Jordan smirked, and I tuned them all out. I wasn't here for this.
"You're impossible," Miles muttered.
Jordan clapped me on the shoulder. "Don't let him get to you. Enjoy the night your way."
Within the hour, Jordan was gone, his wife calling him home. Miles was deep in conversation with a redhead perched on his lap, and lipstick smeared along his jaw. And I was already thinking about my bed.
By two a.m., I'd had enough.
Outside, the air was sharp and cool. My driver pulled up, and I sank into the back seat, loosening my tie. I told myself I'd go home, sleep, wake up ready for the chaos of tomorrow.
The penthouse was dark when I stepped inside. Quiet. I shrugged out of my jacket, unfastened my cufflinks, and headed for the bedroom.
That's when I smelled it—sharp, floral, unmistakably feminine.
The door was cracked. I pushed it open.
Ava was sprawled across my bed in sheer black lace that barely covered her. One leg bent, hair spilling over the pillows, lips curved into that smug smile she's always wearing.
"Welcome home," she purred.
I leaned against the doorframe. "What the hell are you doing here?"
"I still have my keycard." She sat up slowly, letting the lace shift over her skin.
She rose from the bed in one fluid motion, bare feet silent on the hardwood as she crossed the room. "You've been hard to get ahold of."
"Been busy."
"Planning your wedding to another woman," she said, tilting her head. "I thought you deserved a proper send-off before you make the worst decision of your life tomorrow."
"Go home, Ava."
"Relax," she cut in, circling me slowly, fingertips grazing the back of my neck as she passed. "You've been… restrained lately. Very noble. But not your style. Let me fix that." Her fingers trailed up my chest.
I caught her wrist. "This isn't happening."
She stepped closer, until the lace of her bra brushed my shirt. "Last night of freedom," she whispered. "You really want to spend it alone?"
I should've said yes. Should've pushed her back and walked out.
Instead, I hesitated.
Her eyes flickered in triumph, and then she kissed me—soft at first, then hotter, teeth catching my lower lip. My hands found her hips, pulled her closer, and restraint broke like glass underfoot.
The bed hit her calves. The lace straps slid off her shoulders. She gasped when I shoved her back, knees parting without hesitation.
Clothes fell fast. She was warm and slick under my hands, nails digging into my skin as I tore the condom open and pushed inside her.
It was rough. Fast. Weeks of frustration poured into every thrust. She moaned, legs locking around my waist, dragging me deeper. I didn't think about tomorrow or the vows waiting in the morning—I just took what she offered, using her until the need burned down to nothing.
Release hit hard, sharp.
When it was over, she smirked against the pillow. "Told you you'd miss me."
I didn't answer. I was already rolling off her, reaching for my phone.
"You're leaving," I said, swinging my legs out of bed. "And I'm revoking your access in the morning."
Her smile faltered. "You don't mean that."
"I do." I pulled on my pants, not bothering to look at her.
She hesitated for a beat too long before stepping toward her clothes, the lace whispering against her skin. "You can revoke my access to your penthouse, Christian, but we both know I don't need a key to get to you." Her voice was light, but there was a flicker in her eyes, quick and sharp, before she masked it with a lazy smirk. "That little wedding of yours won't change that."
"You've got five minutes to get dressed."
She let out a short, dismissive laugh that didn't quite reach her eyes and slid from the bed, movements a little more clipped than before. "Fine. But you'll miss me."
I didn't respond.
She paused at the doorway, glancing back with that same practiced smirk, though it didn't sit as easily on her lips now. "See you around, lover."
When the door clicked shut behind her, I sat on the edge of the bed for a long minute, staring at nothing.
Then I opened my security app and removed her code.
For good.
It was 3:17 a.m. when I finally lay back, eyes fixed on the ceiling.
Tomorrow, I'd stand in front of a crowd and say vows I hadn't broken. At least, not yet.
The sheets were still warm where Ava had been.
Tonight had burned the edge off. Nothing more.