Trystan and Bryan are staring at me. I can’t blame them. Up close, I look like a porn version of Tinker Bell. My cleavage glitters as I breathe, sitting silently on a stool, wishing I hadn’t tossed the blanket and jacket on the floor. Picking it up feels like a betrayal, so I sit there half-naked with a rock star and a Ferro. Sidney and Peter left when Jon walked away.

The other girl watches me from Trystan’s lap, her golden eyes boring into me. “Oh, holy fuck, girl! You’re making them drool. Someone is going to step in that shit and slip. I don’t wanna break my ass on a concrete floor, so you need to put on the fucking jacket.” She’s up across the room, sweeps Jon’s jacket from the floor and tosses it at me. “Pride ain’t got no place in here.”

“My pride dried up a long time ago.” I slip my arms into the sleeves one at a time and watch her sit down next to me.

“Bullshit. It’s buried beneath the lies you told yourself to pull this kind of thing off. You’re right, though—no one wants to do this shit. It gets chucked at you, and you gotta learn to play catch.” She leans forward and rests her elbows on her knees before folding her hands together. They dangle between her knees as she stares at me. I feel like I’m about to get cracked open and fried on a hot skillet.

After a moment, as if she’s judged me worthy, she holds out her hand toward me and says, “I’m Mel.”

“Cassie,” I say, loosely accepting her outstretched palm and allowing her to shake mine firmly.

Trystan is quiet, listening. No matter what the press says, he’s not the womanizer I expected. His noticeable silence betrays his perceptiveness, always watching and listening. He soaks up the world around him, analyzing it, only speaking if he has something worth saying. Trystan doesn’t talk to hear the sound of his voice.

Bryan on the other hand... I can’t read that guy. He’s sending out so much interference it’s hard to tell what he truly thinks about anything. He’s leaning back against a worn black leather club chair, one arm draped across the back, his fingers dangling over the edge. “You speak for all women everywhere, I’m sure.” He grins, and I know he’s provoking her on purpose, although I don’t have a clue why.

“Hell, yeah, I do.” Mel blasts back.

“And that explains why so many women enter the sex industry yearly. It has nothing to do with ambition, power, money, or control. It’s all a sob story with no ulterior motives.” Bryan smirks and looks up at Mel from under those dark lashes, his green eyes sparkling.

This guy wants us gone.

Sensing the tension growing thicker, I interrupt, “You’re right. You nailed us. We’re faking. We both came from good families with reliable parents to love us. The truth is…” I lean in close. Bryan is sitting across from me. He straightens in his chair, glances at Trystan, and then leans across to get closer to me. “I know you want us to leave, and you should have just said so instead of jabbing verbal shivs at us until this girl rips your face off. Dick move.”

Bryan regards me oddly, and whispers, “There’s a shitstorm coming. Get out of here and don’t come back.”

Mel stares at him.

I shake my head. “I have to come back.”

“For work?”

I shake my head again. “For Jon. I’m not walking away again.”

“You’re the reason his life is a never-ending rave. It’s a perpetual party to drown out the pain you caused him the last time he was fucking you. So, here’s a tip—leave before I make you.” Bryan is on his feet, glaring down at me.

I rise and feel all eyes on me, waiting to see what I’ll do next. “I never slept with Jon. I know I hurt him. If I could undo it, I would. I was young and naïve, but I’m not anymore. I won’t let anyone near him. No press. No nothing. The papers Sean gave him—is that his best move?”

“If he doesn’t want his mother to bury him alive in the garden, yeah.” Bryan sneers at me, clearly frustrated. “You have no idea what you’ve done here, what’s going to happen to him because of this. You shot off your mouth about your chosen profession—we all know you chose this, ladies—and you got to him. Jon never backs down. He has rhino balls. He rips apart anyone threatening him or his family until you came along. We’re not making the same mistakes twice. Walk away.”

I suck in a jagged breath, wishing I could hide it, but I can’t. “No. He didn’t walk away because of me. Are you blind? Something happened to him.”

Bryan gets in my face, looming above me with six feet of ass-kicking ability usually disguised by a grin. “It’s not your concern. We’ve got this.”

“Bullshit.” I shake my head and ball up my hands into fists to try to contain the rage steaming inside me. I can’t let it out. They’ll write it off as PMS and nothing more. I level my voice, holding it steady, forming my words slowly, and enunciating each point. “If you had this, Jon wouldn’t have bought this place. If you had this, he wouldn’t have that old, festering scar. If you had this, he’d still be the guy I met that summer—the one filled with hope, not pain. You don’t have this. You never did. You don’t even know what ‘this’ is.”

Bryan presses his lips together and fixes his eyes on Trystan. “You better show her the door before I do.”

Trystan rises slowly and inhales. He lets out a rush of air and runs his hand through his hair. He glances at Bryan and then me. “May I talk to you?”

I feel his gaze on the side of my face, and I know he only wants to stop this from escalating. I’m not being a bitch. I’m worried about Jon. He’s been behaving erratically, and none of his family seems to notice or care. I have no idea which, but I’m not walking away. Not today. Not ever.

I dig in my heels and glare at Trystan. “No. If you have something to say, say it here.”

Trystan sighs. “Jon needs to sign those papers, and he needs to walk away from this.” He gestures so that I know he’s talking about the club. “He’s refusing to hear anything we tell him.”

“You’re not my problem.”

“Yes, but Jon is. If you care about him at all, you can’t let him keep this place. Sean’s a dick, but I believe he's genuinely looking out for Jon. Stuff happened between the two of them—I don’t know what, it was before I met him—but that shouldn’t be the reason his life now turns to shit.” There’s compassion in Trystan’s eyes. “Listen, not too many people understand what makes Jon tick. It can get lonely, living like that, and I know he doesn’t want to say goodbye to you yet. Talk to him. Make him see this is one of those times he’s making life harder just to make it more difficult. He can help you without the club. You can help him by making him see that.”

I look over at the woman silently sitting beside me. She makes a disgruntled noise and sinks back into her seat, slouching down in the chair and looking up at Trystan. “A fine brain to go with that fine body.”

A slight blush rises to Trystan’s cheeks, but he turns away so quickly I almost don't see it. A blushing rock star? How is that possible? Bryan misses it—he’s too busy glaring at me.

My feral, pissed off stance relaxes, and I look away. Maybe he’s right. It’s possible this place will only bring Jon more pain, and I don’t want that. His mother is demon spawn, and I won't be the reason he’s in her crosshairs. “I’ll get him to sign the papers.”