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His eyes twinkle with a knowing look as he ushers me into a private room. He pours me a drink.
I plop down on the couch. “From what I see, you're succeeding. Everyone has something to say about Club Allure.”
Ethan offers a reassuring grin, but I detect the worry within. “My friends and I aim to transcend the ordinary. We aspire to craft an environment of unparalleled exclusivity and sophistication.”
“I have no doubt you will succeed,” I state, clinking my glass with his.
Ethan cuddles up next to me and drapes his arm over my back. “Thank you for agreeing to come with me today,” he whispers as his lips kiss the curve of my neck.
“This is the party of the year.” I give him a mischievous look. “And... how could I resist when I received a personal invitation for a very handsome bad boy?”
He runs a finger down my cheeks. “You have so much more than that.”
Ethan's lips find mine with ease. After a week of memorizing his mouth, you'd think I might have gotten a little used to the touch of his lips, but that's not the case.
Instead, every time his tongue meets mine, I feel myself breaking inside. As if he has the strength to shatter me into pieces and put me back together to help me become a better version of me. Much stronger and more confident.
In the middle of our kisses, a knock at the door interrupts us.
“Come in,” Ethan says, pulling away from me.
I slyly fix my makeup as I see a tall, confident man in a leather jacket with short blond hair approaching us.
“I'm sorry. I didn't know you had company.”
“That's okay,” Ethan stands up and reaches out a hand to take mine. “Kristine, this is Jackson Pierce, my business partner and one of my best friends.”
“Nice to meet you,” I say, clasping his hand with a smile.
Jackson's gaze sweeps over me, not negatively, but perhaps to assess the circumstances before him. His hand is warm, his grip firm yet respectful.
A flicker of recognition dances in his eyes, and I can't help but brace myself for the usual onslaught of whispers and judgment. Seven years under the harsh spotlight as a politician's wife has taught me to expect it, to always be on guard.
But Jackson simply nods, a courteous dip of his head that seems to acknowledge my past without dwelling on it. “I've heard your name before,” he says. “You've got quite the presence in this city.”
I force a smile, feeling Ethan's thumb brush against my hand in silent support. “That was another life,” I reply. It's true—since the divorce, I've been working hard to shed that old skin, to redefine who Kristine Stern-Prescott is on her own terms.
Jackson seems to pick up on my discomfort and gracefully changes the subject. “Well, it's a pleasure to meet you now. Ethan hasn't stopped talking about you.”
Ethan's gaze locks with mine, a storm of emotions swirling in those deep brown eyes. It's disarming how quickly he's become my safe harbor amid all this chaos.
Jackson leans against the wall, his casual demeanor a stark contrast to the tension that lingers between Ethan and me. “So, what brings you two out tonight? Celebrating something special?”
“We're just enjoying the party,” Ethan answers smoothly, his arm slipping around my waist. “Kristine hasn't really had the chance to experience Club Allure properly.”
“That's right,” I chime in, eager to keep things light and steer away from anything too personal. “The last time I was here didn't exactly count as a night out.”
Jackson chuckles, and I can see why he and Ethan are friends. There's an ease about him that's infectious. “Well then, you're in for a treat tonight. We've pulled out all the stops for this one.”
The room buzzes with energy as more guests filter into the private space. The club beyond is alive with music and movement—a vibrant contrast to the relative calm of our secluded nook.
I take a sip of my drink, allowing the smooth liquid to settle my nerves. Tonight is about new experiences, about letting go of old fears and embracing what comes next.
“Ethan, can you come with me for a moment? I need you to check something on the cameras.”
“Sure. Kristine, I'll be right back. Ask for anything you want.”
“Of course,” I say, watching them leave.
