Chapter 8

The air in the club had grown thick, heavy with the scent of expensive perfume, aged whiskey, and the low, vibrating hum of the upright bass. We sat tucked away in the deepest corner of the velvet booth, a private island in a sea of softly murmuring patrons. The lighting was dim, casting long, amber shadows across the mahogany tables, making the world outside feel distant, like a memory rather than a reality. I watched him from the corner of my eye, tracing the line of his jaw as he sipped his scotch, the ice clinking softly against the crystal. He wasn’t looking at me yet, but I knew he could feel my gaze burning into his skin. It was a electric current, a silent language that had developed between us over the last few hours, a secret tether that bound us together even when we were surrounded by strangers. When the band finally transitioned into a slower, more sultry number, a bluesy tune that curled around our bodies like smoke, he finally turned. His eyes, dark and深邃, locked onto mine. There was a question in them, a demand for permission, but he never asked with words. He never needed