Knox

I regret agreeing to come to Emeralds as soon as I sit down in our VIP section and make myself comfortable on the leather sofa. The music is bumping loud from the speakers. Dancers are hanging from the ceiling and swaying their hips to the beat on the dance floor, and I’ve already had three servers come over to give me complimentary bottles of alcohol.

Nightclubs aren’t much of my scene. I prefer parties at my house where George, my bodyguard, can confiscate phones and make people sign non-disclosures.

“Oh shit,” Nate hisses next to me.

I jerk my head in the direction he’s pointing and force down a sick feeling while I watch the bouncer move the rope aside to allow three women entry. They head directly in our direction.

This moment is what I’ve been trying to avoid for months, and it has to happen here out of all places.

“Fuck me,” I mutter.

Why is she here?

We agreed to end things for good this time, to cut off all communication, and not keep playing the let’s be friends bullshit game that ends up being more than that.

“Do you think she’s going to be chill tonight?” Nate questions.

I bend forward to snag a vodka shot and drain it down before grabbing another. “I never know when she’s going to be chill.” I take the next shot at the same time Stella and her friends make it to us.

Stella’s glossy red lips tip into a bright smile when she plops down next to me; like we’re good ol’ pals again.

I glance over at her. Her long, midnight black hair is down, flowing against her back in loose curls. I used to spend hours playing with that hair, running my fingers through it. Her blue sleeveless dress hits right above her knee, and her golden skin shows off her Spanish heritage.

We met when we were sixteen years old – both of us starting to get our feet wet in the entertainment industry and experiencing what fame truly was. I was into my music, working constantly, and she was the star of an Emmy-winning prime-time show. I think that’s why our connection was so strong. We were going through something difficult and life changing together.

But we grew up and grew apart. I was busy with my music and constantly traveling. Her show ate up her schedule. We’d break up, get back together, and then break up again. She’d hook up with other people. I’d hook up with other people. It was a toxic and vicious cycle.

First loves aren’t always meant to be a constant in your life.

She leans into me, draping her hand around my arm. “Knox,” she says. “I texted you earlier.”

Her voice is loud and clear, and I know it’s a warning to all the women around us. Another Stella trait – she’s incredibly jealous and possessive.

Her smile grows when I stare down at her.

“I know,” I answer.

“So you ignored me?”

“What did I tell you? I told you I’m done playing the games. We both agreed to move on.”

She lets out an annoyed huff. “We can’t be friends?”

“No, we can’t. I won’t be dragged by the tabloids and labeled the asshole again because we decided to hang out as friends and people think we’ve reconciled. If I’m around another chick after that, the media rips me apart, assuming I’m fucking around on you. And you don’t say shit about it. You sit back and let yourself be portrayed as the victim.”

I flinch when she moves in closer, her tits brushing against my arm. “Screw what the media thinks.” She’s in a mood. If I ask her to come home with me right now, she will.

“Our relationship was toxic. We didn’t trust each other. So let’s stop going somewhere we know isn’t leading to a happy ending.”

Her nails dig into my skin. “One more night,” she pleads. She doesn’t want to see me touch another girl here. She doesn’t want to see me leave with another girl tonight.

I drag her hand away from me. “You have to quit texting and calling. Why do you keep fucking with my head? You can’t find dick as good as mine?”

She rolls her eyes. “Why do you always have to be so complicated?”

“I’m not in the mood for this discussion. Let me know when you’re done playing games.” I refuse to look down at her while I bring myself up. I eye the exit and gear to head that way but stop to look back at her before I do. “Actually, don’t. We need to quit living in the past.”

I fight myself from comforting her when the heartache passes over her face.

I can’t be that man for her anymore.

My head is throbbing as I bolt past everyone in our section. I need a fucking breather.

“Libby fucking Graves!”

I freeze at the sound of her name.

Why?

It’s only her first name. It’s probably not even her.

There’s most likely a million other Libby’s in this city, but that doesn’t stop my curiosity. I wander over to the section I heard the name screamed from and look into it like some creep.

My mouth drops.

It is her.

I fold my arms over my chest and lean back against the wall, trying to stay in the shadows. My sexy new assistant is sitting on the end of a couch in a short little black number, a martini in her hand, and looking miserable as hell.

That makes two of us.

I glance away from her and look at the drunk dude moving her way. He’s dressed in a polo shirt and khakis in a fucking club. Jesus, get this guy some loafers and I’d mistake him for my accountant. He reminds me of one of those douchebags who tell you his attorney father will sue you if you lay a hand on him.

“You finally decide to make an appearance,” douchebag yells out. It’s the same voice that called her name. He lets out an annoying laugh. “Do you still think you’re too good for me now that you’re broke as a joke?”

Every muscle in my body tenses up when he bends down to her level – face to face with her. She pushes at his chest in irritation, causing him to stumble back.

“It doesn’t matter if I’m broke or not,” she replies. “I’ll always be too good for you, dipshit.”

He throws his arms out and lets out a condescending laugh. “Then why are you here? No one likes a freeloader hanging around, and we all know you can’t even afford admission to get in.”

The dark haired girl next to Libby leans forward, like she’s acting as a bodyguard, and draws her hand at the guy. “Josh, cut the shit,” she yells. “You’re drunk and look like an idiot.”

“I look like an idiot? I’m only stating the truth and all of you know it. She’d be fucking dumb not to get back with me. I’m her meal ticket.”

Why am I standing here watching this?

Why can’t I tear myself away?

I look down and notice my fists are balled up.

The guy sitting next to the girl who defended Libby gets up and pushes douchebag further away from them. “This is my birthday party,” he hisses. “Keep your mouth shut or I’ll kick your ass out of here. Leave her alone. You hear me?”

Asshole backs away. “It’s cool, Dixon. I’m not even trippin’ over some chick.”

The dark haired girl snorts. “Obviously you are, psycho.”

Libby looks over at her. “Mia, drop it,” she says. “Or he’ll keep acting like this.”

“Fine,” Mia groans, tossing her hair over her shoulder before looking around. She gasps, and I freeze up when her eyes hit me. She points my way. “Oh my god, Lib. There’s your new boss.”

Oh fuck.

Do I make a run for it or act normal?

I give them a polite wave and feel like a complete dumbass when everyone looks my way. Libby gapes at me, like she’s not sure she’s seeing clearly. I turn around on my heels without waiting for a response and stalk back over to our table. I find Nate surrounded by a crowd of girls and grab his arm to pull him away.

Curiosity is eating at me.

I nod towards Libby’s section. “Do you know those people?”

Nate works here, so he seems to know everyone.

“Oh them?” He laughs mockingly. “They’re the I live off daddy’s money club. Those assholes came into the world with silver spoons in their mouths and attended private schools that cost as much as your Lambo.” He arches a brow, looking at me curiously. “Why? One of them catch your eye or something?” He must not have noticed Libby.

I shrug. “Just wondering.”

I pull out my phone and Google Libby Graves.

I start reading about her father being some rock legend and look back her way. She whispers something to her friend and then gets up. My eyes follow her as she starts walking towards the exit. I’m reading about when and where she was born on Wikipedia when I notice polo boy heading in the same direction she went.

I shove my phone into my pocket. “I’m out of here.”

“You serious?”

“I have my video shoot in the morning and can’t be hung over.”

Nate nods in response and heads back to his fan club. I text my driver and let him know I’m ready to go. I never drink and drive, even if I’ve only had a few drinks. I can’t risk getting a DUI.

I walk along the edge of the crowd, trying to go unnoticed in the dark, and make my way towards the back entrance, where the people who don’t want to be seen pay to walk through. I hit the bottom step of the stairs when I hear her voice.

“Josh, seriously. Get the hell away and don’t touch me again.”

“You can’t be serious,” he groans. “What do you have going for you now? Nothing, Libby. No one else is going to want a chick whose dad is a criminal and has to live off her best friend.”

I turn the corner and spot them arguing back and forth. Libby is backed into a wall, and he’s stopping her from moving around him.

I slide my hands into my pockets and walk into their space. “Hey Libby, what’cha doing?” I ask.

Josh looks like he’s ready to pummel me in the face, and I focus my eyes on him, daring him to try. I don’t bullshit or take shit, and I think I’ve hit enough paparazzi to prove that.

“Nothing,” Libby sighs out, looking back and forth between douchebag and me.

“I’ve been looking for you.” I hold up my phone. “I got your text. You ready to go, babe?” Josh looks at me in shock, and I point my phone at him. “Keep your hands off her or I’ll break every bony ass finger on them.”

Josh chuckles, but I can see the annoyance of me interrupting on his face. “You have nothing to do with this, pop star boy. Go back to singing on the streets and begging for money.”

I smirk, and he flinches when I take a step closer. “I dare you to say something else. I fucking dare you, rich boy.”

He backs away slowly. “Whatever dude, she’s not worth it. I don’t like broke strays. You guys are perfect for each other.” He gives Libby a dirty look, turns around, and disappears up the stairs.

Libby runs a hand through her hair, and I notice a flush creep across her cheeks when she looks at me.

“I’m about to leave,” I tell her. “You need a ride home?”

I want to ask her about the guy, how she knows him, and how the fuck she got involved with a jackass like him.

She gives me a questioning look. “You were about to leave or being nosy?”

“Both.” She doesn’t say anything. “My driver is pulling up. You can come or not. It’s your choice.”