Page 4 of Scarred Hearts

Startled, I jumped back, almost dropping my glass. “What?!”

“I said your name like four times,” she giggled, playfully pouting. “Anyway, you have to come back. Pleaseee!”

“I ran into Luke and Tyler almost a year ago and they both told me to come back but?—”

“But nothing!” She rolled her eyes. “You were great at your job, and you can float back and forth between the clubs if that’s what makes you happier.”

“Who’s currently doing my job over at Luxe?” Curiosity got the best of me, and I had to know. I hated the thought of anyone messing up what I helped build.

She rolled her eyes again. “Some girl who’s really into Tyler. Your sassy ass can put her in her place.” She shook her head. “I can’t believe Mila’s been gone for over a year now. They always seemed like an odd couple, but she was nice at least.”

Picking up my glass, I took a sip of wine and set it down. I knew Tyler and I didn’t have anything between us, but I found myself protective over him at the moment. He’d been through a lot, and I’d watched him from a distance, trying to only be available for his family on his own terms. I never wanted to intrude, hurt anyone, or even get in the way, despite him snapping at me a few times before I disappeared.

Sighing, I shook my head. “I’m not exactly sure that me going back will solve anything.” I stared off over her shoulder at the windows.

“Oh my God!” She cackled, calling my attention back to her, and sat on the bar stool. “You like him!”

“No!” I scoffed. “It’s complicated, and the dude is probably still grieving.” I averted my gaze, taking a gulp of the wine.

“I want every single detail.” Leaning forward eagerly, she bit her bottom lip.

“I don’t want to gossip.”

“Number one,” she snickered, reaching for the wine bottle and pouring herself another glass, “it’s not gossip if it’s about you.” She set the bottle down, placing her drink to her lips. “Number two, I’ll be left to assume you’re jealous of your replacement if you don’t tell me,” she grinned wide, “and number?—”

“It’s not my place to say because it involves him too…” I sighed, realizing how I was sounding, “…and he might not want anyone else knowing,” I mumbled under my breath.

“Wait,” she said, lifting her hand, “Anyone else? What happened between you guys?” She gasped. “Did he cheat on Mila with you?!”

“What?!” I huffed. “No, never.”

Fuck. Realizing I’d backed myself into a corner, I let out a breath before I took another sip of my drink. “Kirsten, you cannot tell a single soul. I’d never wanna disrespect him. Jade and Luke already know, and I’m not sure who else knows by now.”

“Well,” she snorted, “clearly not the whole club, yet.”

“And I want to keep it that way, for real.”

She made a cross over her chest. “You have my word. I know nothing.”

I thought back to that night, when Tyler came into Penthouse L.A. but I wasn’t ready to relive the night entirely. Thinking about how to put it in the most minimalist way possible, I finished the rest of my drink. Eyes broad, she pulled it to her, refilling it for me, then slid it back over.

“Okay.” I tapped a fingernail on the glass stem. “When I worked out in L.A.,” I lifted a hand, “and way before Tyler was even in a relationship, “he came into the club. After seeing me dance, he bought some time with me and we… yeahhh.”

“You fucked Tyler freaking Prescott?!”

Ignoring the question, I took a sip of wine, lifting my brows.

“Giovanna, whatever your middle name is, Aggio!”

“Elena,” I tittered.

“What the fuck ever!” She folded her hands together under her chin, resting her elbows on the counter. “Tell me everything!”

“I’ve told you all I’m going to.” I wiggled my eyebrows. “But no wrongdoings were done, and it was a one-time thing. Needless to say, when we ran into one another on the other side of the country, we were both just as shocked.”

“Just tell me this,” she grinned, “was he as good as he looks like he’d be? Have you seen that man in grey sweatpants? In ANY pants even. My God, the bulge.”

I almost choked on my drink as I let out a nervous laugh and set the glass down. I picked up a napkin from the brass holder on the counter. “He wasn’t wearing sweatpants in the club.” Pausing, I did my best to hide behind the paper, pushing the thoughts of his perfect dick out of my head.

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