Page 16 of Resist

I head upstairs to my room, ignoring their cheers. I’m back down in under four minutes, my hair loose and wavy. The blue was only refreshed this morning for the interview, so it looks good. I have my rings, earrings, and necklaces in place and wear leather pants with a big belt, a sheer shirt, and my usual leather jacket. I ignore the eyes on me, refusing to look as I pull my boots on and head out the door.

“Are you coming?” I call.

“It’s party time!” I hear Dash yell, and I can’t help but smile.

Ryker picked the place, since he knows all the clubs and hangout spots. He spends all his nights in them so he should. There’s a line when we get out of the car, and it stretches all the way down the block. I hesitate when I see how busy the converted church is, but Ryker ignores the line and heads right to the door. Sighing, I follow him. I hear whispers, and I even see some people snapping pictures. “Are we okay here?” I ask him.

He turns his head, and I have to jerk back to prevent his lips from crashing into mine. His eyes widen, and he doesn’t speak for a minute. “Ry?”

“Oh, um . . .” He blinks and laughs. “Yeah, only celebrities are allowed, and no photos, so we are fine.” Turning back to the bouncer, he flashes his smile, and the door is opened despite the extensive line.

“How often do you come here for them to know you on sight?” Dash chuckles, slinging an arm around Ry as he heads through the ancient-looking church door.

Strike loops his arm with mine and grins at me. “Come on. Forget everything else, let’s have a good night.”

“Sure,” I mutter, trying to force myself to cheer up since he’s so excited, but he frowns, obviously sensing my mood. I lean closer and murmur, “I promise I’m fine. Let’s have a good night.”

That perks him up, and when I glance back, Dash and Ry are waiting for us. Dash is smiling, but Ry’s eyes are hard as he glances between Strike and me. My frown deepens, but he turns away and heads through another set of chapel doors, and we have no choice except to follow.

Once through the next set, the beat flows through me. There is a famous punk song playing, and that makes my eyebrowsrise. I don’t know what I expected, but it isn’t the Gothic, satanic church vibe they have going, with a huge demon at the back wrapped around a cross, blowing fire. The red lights only add to the atmosphere. The bar is painted black, and there are cages hanging from the ceiling with dancers inside.

The stained-glass windows are a mocking reminder as celebrities dance or sprawl across casual sofas and even some pews.

I can’t help but stare. It’s fucking amazing.

“I thought you might like this place,” Ry yells into my ear, leaning up to be heard. “I’ve wanted to bring you here for a while.”

He kept asking, and I kept saying no.

His hand slides down my arm, and his fingers twine with mine as he tugs me along. “Come on, let’s grab a table.” I stare at our joined hands, and he tugs me, so I let him pull me after him. The warmth of his palm against mine causes desire and joy to course through me, right up until a beautiful woman steps into our path. Her eyes are sparkling and familiar as she looks at Ryker.

“Hi, Ryker. I’m Chelsea. Remember me?” She smiles seductively, caressing her hand along his forearm. He doesn’t push her away, but he grips my hand tighter.

“Uh, yeah, sure,” he replies, sounding uncertain before he turns the charm on. “You look beautiful tonight.”

She giggles and clutches his arm, refusing to let go, and she’s basically dragged between us.

We both know who will win, so I bow out.

Pulling my hand free, I smile at them. “I’m going to grab a drink.”

“Fox, wait—” I ignore his voice and head over to the bar with Strike and Dash.

They pull me between them. “What are you drinking?” Dash asks.

“Just a beer, thanks,” I call over the music as a man in a waistcoat and not much else comes over and leans into Dash to take his order. I glance behind us, unable to help myself. Despite his words, Ry doesn’t seem too bothered about me leaving. Chelsea is plastered against him, stroking his chest as she grins up at him while he smiles down at her. Looks like he’s found his latest in a long line.

Turning away in annoyance, I nod my thanks to the bartender and drain some of my beer. “Want to grab a table?” Dash asks, oblivious to my inner turmoil.

I shouldn’t have come. I knew what I would see, which is exactly why I don’t go out with him or them. I’m trying to move on from my feelings for Ry, but I’m not strong enough to watch him fuck around right in front of me. Knowing it and seeing it are two very different things.

“Don’t let him ruin your night,” Strike murmurs to me, smiling sadly.

I nod and force another smile, not wanting to ruin Strike’s. Draping my arms around him and Dash, I turn back to the club. “Let’s do this. Where do you want to sit?”

“Oh, over there.” Dash points at a square selection of sofas, and I let him lead us across the dance floor. As soon as we sit, people flock to us. It’s something I’m still not used to, but even amongst celebrities, we seem to be popular. I don’t know if it’s because we are new or if they genuinely like us, but it’s hard to tell, and none of it ever appears genuine or real.

Just like my and Ry’s relationship, it’s all for show.

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