Page 9 of Vintage

What a jerk.

Chapter Six

The blaring music and the stench of sweat? Not my scene at all. I loathed these kinds of parties, but today? Well, today was a different story.

Perched next to Ro at the bar, we waited for Darius to whip up his infamous concoctions. This club, a playground for Darius' motorcycle crew, was his domain, and he had a talent for mixing drinks that could knock you off your feet.

"It's on the house today," Darius chirped, sliding a shot of tequila my way, his gaze lingering on me like I was the only star in the sky.

I managed a weak smile, utterly baffled by his fascination.

Ro’s intense stare was like a spotlight, making me squirm in my seat. He nursed his scotch, watching Darius and me with a hawk's eye. Silence wasn’t his usual game, but as he tried to decode the scene, I was just as lost.

Darius winked at me before tossing some snark at one of his crew members and darting off for more drinks.

"Should I be worried about this little tête-à-tête?" Ro's hand slid over my thigh, fingers digging in like he was marking his territory.

It sent a thrill through me, but my brain was ready to fire back.

I shrugged, downing another shot and grimacing at the burn. Sometimes, you just have to let loose.

"Who knows, maybe there’s something brewing here, but should it really matter to you? If my husband can’t keep up, why shouldn’t I explore other options?" I smirked, relishing the way his baby blue eyes darkened with heat.

His fingers slithered up my thigh, and I could barely breathe, my voice trapped in my throat like a caged bird.

"Mrs. Rowan, don’t you think you’re being a bit too daring? I’d recommend keeping those thoughts just between us, because as charming as I may seem, and however nice, I could easily show you, how nasty I can be." His smile was a wicked curve, lips kissed by death, and the twitch in his jaw made me swallow hard.

I tore my gaze from Ro, my fingers fidgeting with the short glass on the table.

Inside, I was a mess of screams.

He was still my Rowan—the jealous, possessive man who was still hopelessly in love with me.

Darius strolled back with drinks, his eyes darting between Ro and me. That smirk of his was all too evident, but the haunting look in his eyes sent chills down my spine. When he shot me a quick glance, I felt a warning pulse through the air.

But what was I supposed to be wary of? I didn’t have time to figure that out.

"Darius, I suggest you keep your distance from my wife." The words burst from Ro like a thunderclap, and he downed his drink, glaring daggers at his friend.

His hand remained firmly on my thigh.

The two men were locked in a silent battle, their eyes sparking with unspoken tension, while I was left out in the cold.

"Natalie, you took your sweet time!" Darius’s voice was sharp, his gaze fixed on something behind us, prompting both Ro and me to turn and look at the girls standing there.

Natalie was Darius’ casual fling, and I had no right to question their arrangement. But the woman beside her was a stunning bombshell, and I couldn’t tear my eyes away.

She had hair like crispy hash browns, skin kissed by the sun, and those crystal grey eyes that could cut through the darkness. Standing almost at my height, she was a vision. Soft features and a calming presence that could make anyone swoon. But when she smiled and waved at us, I felt this awkward urge to smile back, like a fool caught in a spotlight.

How could someone be this stunning?

"Willow."

The air around me thickened, the room closing in like a vice. Despite being in the biggest club in town, I felt trapped, like I was suffocating in a sea of bodies.

My gaze snapped to Rowan, watching him dash toward the girl whose name rolled off his tongue like honey.

Why? Don’t go, Ro.

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