Page 16 of A Dark Infinity

We don’t talk during the short drive, and I don’t even see what’s outside the window. Tears are distorting my vision, and I’m too lost in my thoughts to pay any proper attention to anything. When Ethan parks, I unbuckle my seatbelt and open the door on autopilot. “Thanks for the lift,” I say, my voice hoarse.

Ethan leans closer and wipes the tears from my eyes. It’s only then I notice that we aren’t at my apartment. My brows furrow in confusion, but before I can ask, he says, “I thought you might want a drink to calm down before going home.”

“Yes. Thank you,” I murmur, grateful I’m not going home to my empty apartment just yet. He takes my hand again, and together we walk into one of the fanciest clubs I’ve ever seen.

8

Lark

Thepulsatingrhythmofthe music immediately envelops me, reverberating through the dimly lit space. The air is thick with anticipation and excitement, a heady blend of laughter, chatter, and clinking glasses filling the room.

Glancing around, I take in the sophisticated décor; plush velvet couches in rich hues, elegant marble bars adorned with gleaming glassware, and intricate lighting fixtures casting a warm, amber glow over the crowd. The walls are adorned with abstract artwork, adding a touch of modern flair to the opulent surroundings.

“Wow,” I mumble as we weave our way through the throng of people. This place is clearly way out of my price range. I bet a glass of water here cost the same as my rent.

“You like it?” Ethan asks, and I nod eagerly.

“It’s beautiful.”

We pass the dance floor, which is a whirlwind of movement, bodies swaying and gyrating to the infectious beat, bathed in the colorful glow of neon lights. At the back, bartenders expertly mix elaborate cocktails, their hands a blur as they pour and shake with practiced precision.

The clientele exude an air of confidence and sophistication, dressed to the nines in designer threads and statement accessories.

Once we reach the bar, Ethan greets the bartender. “Hi Billy,” he smiles.

“Ethan,” the guy, Billy, shouts. “It’s been too long. How are you doing?”

Huh, so Ethan must come here a lot. I don’t know why that surprises me. Despite the vibrant energy of the club, there’s an undeniable sense of exclusivity, an unspoken understanding that this is a place for the city’s elite to see and be seen. Which means it’s exactly the right place for someone like Ethan.

While the guys talk, I turn around so I can get a closer look at the club, and I can’t tear my gaze from the people dancing. At first glance, it looks innocent, but the longer I look, I realize it’s anything but.

One couple is practically dry humping, and in the corner, one man has his hands up his date’s skirt. I tell myself to look anywhere else, but my eyes don’t obey the half-assed command from my brain. I press my legs together as arousal spreads through me. Those people are putting on quite the show.

“Enjoying yourself?” Ethan asks.

I blush, feeling like I’ve been caught doing something I shouldn’t. “Maybe,” I admit. “It’s an interesting place. I really like the design, and—” Thankfully, Ethan interrupts me before I can continue prattling on.

“When I bought this place a few years ago, I wasn’t too sure, but it turned out to be a sound investment. I’m glad you like it.”

“Really? Why?” I ask, focusing on the last part of what he just said.

Instead of answering me, he winks and hands me a martini, complete with an olive in the glass. If only he knew what the olive means to me. “Cheers,” he rasps.

I take a small sip at first, but quickly follow up with a larger one. Though I’m not normally a gin girl, this is so smooth I empty the glass quicker than I should. Ethan notices and immediately orders me another round for both of us. Once we hold the new drinks, he leads me over to a dimly lit corner where the music is at a decibel that makes it possible for us to talk.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Ethan asks as he slides in next to me. He immediately throws his arm around my shoulders and his hand squeezes my knee gently.

I look down at his hand, unable to stop myself from wondering if he’s going to keep it there, or move it further up my leg and… wait, he asked me a question, didn’t he? “What did you say?” I ask, shaking my head to clear it.

He moves his mouth closer to my ear. “I asked if you want to talk about your dad,” he chuckles.

“Not really,” I mutter. I don’t want to talk about anything that depressing when I’m feeling so good.

Taking another sip of my drink, I ponder if I should outright ask him about the connection between Infinity Solutions and Infinity Properties. It seems like a foolish thing to ask about when their names are a clear indicator the companies are connected. But I want to hear it from Ethan.

I open my mouth, about to ask, but then I close it again. It’s not the right question, and if I don’t ask the correct one, I’ll never get the answer I seek. That has to be what he meant when he sent me the message saying, “Maybe you’re not asking the right questions.”

“So,” I begin, worrying my bottom lip as I look up at Ethan through my lashes. “You own a lot of things.”

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