Three

The bass reverberated through my body, sinking into my skin like a second heartbeat. My limbs felt light, my head dizzy with a strange, electric rush.

I swayed, arms thrown over the shoulders of some faceless stranger, laughing at nothing and everything. The heat of the bodies around me was suffocating, intoxicating. My heart raced, my skin burned, and I welcomed it.

Until I felt it.

A gaze.

Heavy. Dark. Unyielding.

It cut through the flashing lights, through the haze in my mind, through the feverish daze that had consumed me. A chill that had nothing to do with the air. A weight that settled over me like a slow drag of silk against bare skin.

Someone was watching me.

I stilled, my heart knocking against my ribs as my gaze flickered across the room. Everything was a blur of light and motion, but then I saw them—the booths in the far corner, nestled in the shadows, off-limits yet occupied. Unlike the rest of the room, wild with laughter and sin, those seats belonged to men who didn’t need to be part of the chaos to own it.

A man.

No—a force.

And in one of those booths… he sat.

He wasn’t drinking. He wasn’t talking. He wasn’t doing anything but watching me.

A mask covered half his face, sculpted black with intricate gold details, giving nothing away. But even behind it, I felt the weight of his gaze, dark and unrelenting. He was dressed in a crisp black suit, stark against the golden glow of the room. Silent. Still. As if he had all the time in the world to sit there and watch me unravel.

His eyes.

God.

They held me captive, piercing and unreadable, a storm of quiet intensity. Not lust, not amusement—something deeper. Something... unsettling.

I swallowed, suddenly hyper-aware of the fingers brushing against my waist, of the hands gripping my hips. They no longer felt welcome.

And neither did I.

I should have looked away. Should have turned my back, lost myself in the music again, drowned in the high of the night.

But I couldn’t.

He commanded me—without words, without a single movement. And somehow, I understood.

Shakily, I pulled away from my dance partner, my body stilling as my gaze found his once more, searching, confirming. For a fleeting second, it felt like it was just us.

The world blurred. The music dulled. Nothing existed but the silence stretching between us.

And then—He was gone.

The shadow of him. The weight of his gaze. The suffocating pull of his presence.

Vanished.

Leaving me standing in the middle of a room that suddenly felt too bright, too loud, too wrong.

I exhaled shakily, pressing a hand to my racing heart.

What the hell was that?

Who the hell was that?

A sudden wave of unease crashed over me. I needed to leave. Now.

Spinning on my heel, I pushed through the throng of bodies, my pulse still hammering in my ears. As I made my way downstairs, my eyes caught on a shadowed corner—and there, tangled in the heat of a kiss, was Andra.

My frustration flared.

With a sharp yank, I pulled her away from the guy.

"Oh my God!" she gasped, adjusting her dress. "I’m so sorry! I got carried away."

I shot her a flat look. "Yeah, I can see that."

She huffed, fixing her hair. "Relax, Jan. We were just having fun."

"Well, I’m done having fun," I snapped. "We need to leave. I have a wedding tomorrow, remember?"

Her lips parted like she wanted to protest, but then she sighed. "Right, right. You’re no fun." She turned back to the guy, flashing him a wink. "Next time, Donveon."

I rolled my eyes, grabbing her wrist. "Let’s go."

We pushed through the crowd, but even as I stepped into the cool night air, I couldn’t shake it.

The feeling of him.

Watching. Waiting.

We drove back in silence, exhaustion weighing on us like heavy coats. Andra hummed softly to the music playing from the car’s stereo, but I barely heard it. My mind was still trapped in that moment—the gaze that had burned through me, the presence that had disappeared as swiftly as it came.

The apartment was small but cozy, a blend of warmth and familiarity. String lights hung lazily across the ceiling, casting a dim golden hue over the space. The scent of vanilla and something faintly floral clung to the air—a signature from Andra’s obsession with scented candles. Plush throw pillows lay scattered across the couch, and a forgotten blanket was draped over the armrest, evidence of the many late-night N*****x binges we’d had.

The moment I stepped inside, I unstrapped my heels and kicked them off without care, stretching out my aching toes. My feet screamed in relief.

I made a beeline for the kitchen. The cool tiles soothed my soles as I stepped inside, flicking on the soft overhead light. The kitchen was compact, the white cabinets slightly chipped at the corners from years of use. A row of spice jars sat neatly on the counter, next to a half-empty wine bottle and an abandoned mug of coffee from this morning.

Pulling open the fridge, I grabbed some milk, then reached for a box of cereal from the counter. I poured myself a bowl and took the first spoonful, the crunch filling the quiet air.

"You didn’t make me a bowl too?" Andra’s whiny voice came from behind me.

Rolling my eyes, I nudged the cereal box toward her. She grabbed a spoon and joined me at the counter, plopping down on the stool beside me.

For a while, we ate in silence.

Then, out of nowhere, she sighed dramatically. "I’m so happy for you."

I shot her a weird look.

"I mean, you’re marrying your first love," she continued, her voice laced with emotion. "Your first love, Jan. You didn’t have to kiss a thousand frogs before meeting your prince. You just… did." Her eyes glistened slightly.

I snorted. "Are you about to cry?"

"Shut up." She sniffed, wiping an imaginary tear. "I was just thinking—back in college, you had boys smothering all over your very smart, hot ass." She wiggled her brows at me. "Still, I never imagined you’d settle for Layden. Especially with Adonis hot on your ass."

My breath hitched. I hadn’t heard that name in years.

Andra smirked knowingly. "Oh, come on. Don’t act like you don’t remember." She sighed dreamily. "That boy was a hot mess."

I exhaled slowly, stirring my cereal with my spoon. "Yeah… he was."

Dangerous. Magnetic. Intoxicating.

A living, breathing temptation wrapped in muscle and recklessness.

"Ugh," Andra groaned. "I still can’t believe you fought all that. The man practically oozed sin. A dangerous motorcycle? A Greek god bod? A walking romance novel cover?" She fanned herself dramatically. "Girl, you could have had one wild night with him."

I chuckled, shaking my head. "I know. And now? I’m twenty-three. And still a virgin."

A beat of silence.

Andra’s spoon clattered onto the counter.

"Wait, what?" She gaped at me, pure disbelief flashing in her eyes. "You mean to tell me—he hasn’t even peeked inside the cave?"

I nearly choked on my cereal. "Oh my God, Andra—"

"NOPE." She threw up a hand. "Let me process this. You guys dated for six years—four through college, now two more—and he still hasn’t banged Cleopatra?"

I groaned, dropping my head onto the counter.

"Damn," she muttered, shaking her head. "I bet his ass is gay."

I burst into hysterical laughter.

"Or maybe," I said between chuckles, "he’s just waiting until marriage."

She gave me a deadpan stare. "I bet he is."

I sighed, leaning back in my chair.

Andra smirked. "If I had known earlier that he still hadn’t cleaned up down there, I would’ve let Donveon give you the night of your life."

"Ewww," I groaned, scrunching my nose. "I do not want to have a ‘good time’ with some random guy."

"Except… him."

I stiffened.

Andra’s smirk widened. "Who was he?"

I shook my head, dismissing her question. "No one."

Liar.

That man in the booth… whoever he was…

He wasn’t no one.

But I wasn’t about to admit that.

After finishing our cereal, we dragged ourselves upstairs. The digital clock on my nightstand blinked 1:07 AM. My wedding was in less than nine hours.

"We should get some sleep," Andra mumbled, already collapsing onto her bed.

"You shower first," I told her, rubbing my eyes.

"Nah, you go."

Too exhausted to argue, I grabbed my towel and stripped out of my costume. I scrubbed off my makeup before stepping into the shower, turning the dial until warm water cascaded over my skin.

The warm sensation causing me to remember the stranger's heated gaze.

The way he stared at me.

Like he knew me. Like he saw me.

Like he understood me.

A shiver rolled down my spine as I shut my eyes, letting the water run through my hair. My mind drifted back to a different time, a different man.

Adonis.

The boy every girl wanted. The boy I wanted.

He was six-foot-seven, all sharp jawlines and tanned skin, with a body sculpted by the gods themselves. He spoke Italian, French, Spanish, Latin and Greek—his voice a low, melting baritone that could bring a girl to her knees.

And if I could turn back time—just once—I wouldn’t fight it.

I would let myself have him.

A night with Zeus incarnate. One wild, reckless, all-consuming night.

And still, I would end up marrying Layden.

Wouldn’t I?