Chapter 22 A Gentleman's Club Later That Day Roman She took her sweet time. I was already dressed—black shirt, white slacks, black shoes, nothing overdone, but clean. Classic. I sat on the edge of the bed, legs crossed, scrolling through my phone without actually seeing anything on the screen. I was trying not to think about Savannah’s dress. She’d been teasing it all morning, saying it was “a little red,” and “a little tight,” with that crooked smirk she wore whenever she knew she was about to ruin me. And I let her. Because I'm masochistic that way. I enjoy the destruction. The bathroom door creaked open. I looked up. And the air left my lungs. She wasn’t just a vision. She was a threat. Red latex, sculpted to her like it had been painted on by the devil himself. Her legs—long, bare, dangerous. Her bob framed her face in this sharp, devastating way. That neckline? Deep enough to make religion tremble. My phone slipped from my fingers and landed on the carpet with a soft thud, then bounced once before resting at my feet. I didn’t even glance down. I couldn’t. She had me frozen. She stood in the doorway like she didn’t know she was committing war crimes with that body. The dress hugged every curve, every dip, every place I’d imagined memorising with my hands and mouth. And her legs—God, her legs went on forever. Long and perfect. The bob cut only made her more lethal. She looked like every sin I’d ever tried to suppress. My throat tightened, shirt suddenly too snug across my chest. A pulse beat behind my eyes—and it wasn’t from the overhead light. "Well?" she asked. I didn’t say the first twenty things that rushed to my head. Didn’t tell her how badly I wanted to push her against the wall. Didn’t tell her how that dress should come with a warning, not because it was too much—but because I was too close to forgetting we had a date to attend. My throat burned.I stood slowly, eyes never leaving her. "Jesus Christ, Savannah." "Too much?" "Not even close.” I walked over to her, fingers grazing the latex strap on her shoulder. It snapped lightly against her skin, and I swallowed the groan that climbed up my throat. "You look like like you're out to kill." She gave me a little spin. "Utter perfection," I muttered. She turned slowly again under my gaze, this time, to the side, deliberately giving me the full view. I nearly blacked out. "That dress should come with a warning label." I finally said. She grinned. "Scared someone’s going to stare too long?" "No," I said, dead serious. "Scared because if Dean sees you in this, I’ll be in jail before dessert.” Her mouth parted slightly, like air had betrayed her. Her eyes dragged down my body like a physical touch. I had no words. Instead, I leaned down, lips just behind her ear. "You’ll be the end of me." She smiled. Not a sweet one… but dangerous. Like she knew exactly what she was doing. "Promise?” I laughed. “Promise, love.” ~~~~~~~~~ We descended the stairs together, my hand firmly on her lower back. Every eye turned. Dean froze mid-conversation. His mouth opened slightly, gaze skimming from the hem of her dress to the curve of her hips and landing on my possessive grip. A flash of something ugly twisted his face before he masked it. I smirked, then trailed my hand lower. Resting atop her ass. He caught that. Chloe blinked once. Then smiled. Too bright… Too wide… Too fake. She wore a sky-blue satin dress that screamed elegance, but next to Sav? She looked like the safe option. The PG-rated choice. And she knew it. And she didn't like it. "You look... bold," she said with a little tilt of her head. "Thanks," Sav said sweetly. "You look very... mother-of-the-bride. Very safe." Dean coughed to cover a laugh. Chloe's jaw tightened. I leaned down, whispered, "Play nice," against her ear. She smirked. "No promises.” “Wait! Hold up, you guys!” Lizzie practically flew down the flight of stairs waving her phone like a flag and her hair gathered up in a bun. She was in her spongebob pajamas. “Lizzie, be careful.” Savannah scolded her. She was breathing fast, her hands on her knees when she reached where we stood. “I know, I know. I just need a picture from you both.” She raised a finger. “Just one.” “Why?” Chloe asked. “Oh it's not you guys.” She referred to Dean and Chloe. “I'm talking about them.” She pointed to Sav and I. “Why?” Savannah asked this time around. “Well, your pool picture kind of blew up online after I shared it with a cool hashtag. And now, everyone's asking about the hot couple. I have to keep up with the demand, you know.” She explained like we were supposed to understand. “... So you mean we're what? Internet famous?” Savannah asked, confused. Chloe scoffed. “Don't flatter yourself, sis. You? Famous?” She laughed. “Pinch me, Dean. What a dream you have.” Lizzie stepped up. “Actually they are. Sort of.” “Oh please. Let me be the judge of that. Take the photo and let's get going. It's almost fun time.” Chloe and Dean looked at each other and smiled devilishly. Whatever these two fools had planned, it wasn't going to be good. I knew it. “Come on.” I led Savannah to where Lizzie was pointing at— the space beside the fireplace. We struck a few couple poses as directed by her. The weasel and the snake were talking in hushed tones by the corner. “Can I get a kiss?” Lizzie requested, squinting into her phone. “Sure.” I responded. “What about my lipstick?” She argued. “Doesn't matter.” Savannah nodded. Then turned to me, expectantly. Her well-rehearsed smile in place. Her breath hitched just before our lips touched. She leaned in too slow. Too intentional. Shutter sounds went off as soon as our lips met. She angled her head like a practiced tease, but the way her lips parted? That wasn’t just for the camera. My hand rested on her waist and cupped her neck. I couldn’t resist the temptation of moving my lips against hers. Just once. She played along. Then we broke apart. “Thank you!” Lizzie held up her phone like she just struck gold, giggling to herself as ran upstairs. “Finally. Can we go now?” Chloe rolled her eyes and walked away. We left in different cars— Savannah and me in mine, the weasel and the snake in his. There's no way I'd agree to be in the same car as them. Too much toxicity. The location they shared me to follow was on a different part of New Hope. Much different. Giant streetlights casted long shadows on the ground. The upscale neighborhoods giving way to more urban vibes as we drove past places Savannah used to know. She slowly adjusts her dress, trying to pull it down a bit and I clenched the wheel trying not to stare. I failed. My jaw clenched. Heat crawled up my neck, and my hands fisted at the sides, desperate to touch but too damn aware of the title we had. Best friends. "You're awfully quiet." She noted. "I'm trying not to kill your ex for organizing this date." She smiled, "You’re just mad he’s forcing you to socialize." “No, I socialise for a living. It's part of my job. I'm just mad he thinks this is a competition.” “You're all worked up, Roman. Relax.” She reached over and rubbed my arm, not knowing the effect that little action had on me. Fucking hell. We pulled up to a sleek, black-on-black building with gold-lettered signage that shimmered under the streetlights. A Gentleman ’s Club. I raised a brow. Savannah's jaw dropped. "This is the place?” “She can't be fucking serious.”