Page 51 of F*ckboys

As I enter Luna's—an upscale restaurant with dim lighting and plush seating—I scan the room nervously, searching for any sign of Carissa. I got here at eight on the dot, and the place is packed tonight. A live jazz band plays in the corner while patrons chatanimatedly over their meals. In this sea of warmth and laughter, I feel even more isolated, more alone.

"Over here, Aksel," Carissa calls out, waving me over to a secluded booth near the back. Her eyes flicker with something unreadable, a hidden agenda lurking beneath the surface. As I approach, I notice that she's chosen a seat with a clear view of the entrance—likely a calculated move designed to ensure that anyone walking in will see us together.

"Nice spot," I mutter, taking my seat across from her. "You always were one for theatrics."

Carissa smirks, all too aware of the power she wields in this moment. "I thought it might be best if we discuss things... privately."

I roll my eyes at the hypocrisy of her words juxtaposed with the seating she's chosen for us. "Fine, let's get this over with," I say. "What have you found out about King Enterprises?"

"Slow down, Aksel," she purrs, a wicked smile playing on her lips. "Let me explain."

"Fine, explain. I'm waiting. Your texts were pretty cryptic," I growl, my fists clenched beneath the table as she weaves her tale of deception and betrayal within my family's company. It's a twisted web that threatens to pull me under if I'm not careful. For whatever reason she's chosen to do it, Carissa's investigation has reinforced some of my fears about Kent and Isabella and things are even worse than I thought. The entire company really could be at stake.

"Are you going to do something about it?" Carissa asks, her expression suddenly serious. "You can't just let them get away with it."

"Of course I am," I snap, my thoughts racing as I try to formulate a plan. "But why look into this at all? What's in it for you?"

"Maybe I just care about the company and want to see my friends doing well," she replies coyly, her eyes never leaving mine. She places her hand on top of mine. "Or maybe I'm just tired of seeing you so miserable all the time."

"Whatever your reasons," I say, my voice cold and detached, "I'll handle it."

"Good," Carissa smirks, raising her glass in a mock toast. "Cheers to digging up deep dark secrets and bringing them into the light. And to the histories and memories we keep burning bright."

Histories, memories… two things I can barely stop thinking about. As I reluctantly clink glasses with her, one thing becomes painfully clear: no matter how deep I dive into work or the complexities of my professional life, there will always be an insatiable void where Fallon once was. And as much as I want to forget, to move on, I know that the only way to truly heal is to face the darkness head-on—and find a way to make things right.

"Here's to memories," I mutter, downing my drink and steeling myself for the battles ahead.

Taking another sip, Carissa looks around, smirks and then moves her hand to my thigh, which I shrug off immediately.

My eyes scan the room as I try to shake the feeling that we're being watched. It's then that I spot her—Fallon, sitting at a nearby table with a group of women each with a copy of the same book. They're flipping between pages and talking animatedly, gesturing at the covers as they sip their wine. The breath catches in my throat, and I can't help but think that this meeting was never about corporate espionage at all.

"Wait, is that Fallon Dempsey?" Carissa asks innocently, following my gaze. "What a coincidence."

"Coincidence?" I hiss, my anger rising. "You planned this, didn't you?"

"Whatever do you mean, Aksel?" She feigns ignorance, but the glint in her eyes betrays her intentions.

"Carissa, this isn't a game," I growl, my hands clenched into fists beneath the table. "Fallon and I—"

"Are history. And maybe, just maybe, it's time you both moved on," she interrupts, her voice dripping with bitterness. "Maybe she just needs a bit of extra encouragement to extract you from her life. To free you, so you can truly move on to… other things." Without warning, she grabs my hand from the table and places it between her thighs. I feel heat emanating from her center and I jerk my hand away.

"Enough!" I snap, my voice louder than intended. In that instant, Fallon's eyes meet mine, her expression a mix of hurt and confusion. She glances from me to Carissa and back, watching my hand emerge from Carissa's side of the table. It’s as if the air has been sucked out of the room, and I can't breathe.

"Fallon," I call out, desperate to explain the situation. I leap up from the table and run over to her group. "Fallon, it's not what you think."

"Save it, Aksel," she whispers, tears welling in her eyes as she pushes back from the table, her chair scraping loudly against the floor. She bolts toward the exit, leaving a trail of devastation in her wake as her swift movements cause a glass and some silverware to clatter to the floor. Her fellow book club members stare at me, at Fallon's path, and a few of their jaws drop.

"Damn it," I mutter under my breath, my chest tightening with regret. I look back at the booth where Carissa sits, smirking, relishing the chaos she has caused.

"Looks like you've got some explaining to do," she calls out, her voice sickeningly sweet. "Good luck with that. You could have just had me instead of all this silly drama. We could be really great together, Aksel. I can tell you're so close to feeling the same way."

I glare at her for a moment before turning on my heel, my mind racing as I contemplate how to salvage the wreckage of my budding relationship with Fallon. As I step into the dark night, I know that our story is far from over—and I will do whatever it takes to make things right.

The heavy door slams behind me, the sound echoing through the empty parking lot. My heart races as I scan the area for a glimpse of Fallon, her light blue dress catching the dim glow of a streetlight in the distance. She's running toward her car, desperation etched on her face.

"Fallon!" I shout, my voice cracking with emotion. "Please, just let me explain!"

Her steps falter, but she doesn't stop. I sprint after her, my muscles burning from exertion and frustration. As I catch up to her, I reach out to grab her arm, desperate to make her understand.

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