Page 109 of Lush

I spun wildly, bumping into people. Each hit jolted me; I flailed, grabbing for something to hold on to, but the crowd was merciless. I was pushed back harder and harder each time I tried to get through.

My legs grew heavy, and the music shifted abruptly, the familiar beat replaced by a thunderous bass drop that slammed into the speakers and reverberated through my skull. My breath came in short, shallow bursts, my chest tightening as the crowd surged again.

It felt deliberate now, like I was being swallowed whole.

My hand shot to my pocket, frantic, only to remember Gigi’s insistence on this tight dress. No pockets for a phone; purses abandoned in the limo. I panicked. A hand brushed against my back, firm, deliberate. I whirled around, my heart racing, but they’d vanished into the crowd.

“Laurene!” I heard a distant shout.

I pushed past everyone, their yelling and dirty looks just noise. A hand, cold and firm, grabbed mine. I fought against it, heart racing, until I looked up.

Noelle.

I trailed behind, wobbly and gasping, the crowd opening up for her unlike me.

I finally got out of the crowd, gasping for air and feeling like I’d been underwater. Noelle’s grip on my hand was firm as we weaved through the last stragglers until we reached the booth. The bass still rattled my bones but I was calming down.

“Are you okay?”

I nodded, still shaken up.

“You’re not okay,” she said, giving me the once-over. “Wanna go?”

I shook my head. I didn’t want to let this blackmailer win. “No. We’re here to dance.”

She hesitated, her lips parting like she was about to argue.

“Can you get me some water, please?”

She let out a small sigh. “Of course.”

Noelle squeezed my hand before turning, weaving her way back into the crowd.

I sagged against the booth, my fingers digging into the vinyl. I closed my eyes as I tried to calm my racing heart.

“Laurene.”

My eyes snapped open, and there he was, standing just a few feet away. Reese. His broad shoulders framed by the dim, smoky light, his presence commanding even in the haze of the club.

I let out a shaky breath; relief washed over me, almost making me weak-kneed. I hadn’t realized how desperately I needed him, a physical ache in my bones and a hollowness in my chest, until he stood before me.

“Reese. What are you doing here?”

Reese’s lips curved into a slow, devastating smirk. “My club.”

I blinked, the pieces started to fall into place, one after another, too fast to catch. “You’re the generous owner?”

It hit me then—the private jet, the limo, Gigi had insisted on this night, the effortless way everything had fallen into place. And there he was, the man behind it all.

He stepped closer, head tilted. The tailored fit of his dark suit molded to his body like it had been made for him—sharp, sleek, dangerous. The open collar of his shirt teased a sliver of tanned skin, the kind that made my pulse flutter.

“Is that what Gigi called me? That’s better than ‘Pimp of Vegas,’ huh?” Reese teased, but his eyes held something more when he looked at me. His hand brushed over my arm, checking, as if he were silently making sure I was still whole, stillhere.

“But with your track record…” He trailed off, his brow furrowing slightly, his voice softening into concern. “I needed to know you were going to be safe tonight.”

I could practically feel him radiating protectiveness.

“Guess I’ll have to be good,” I said.

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