Page 80 of The Friend Situation

I quickly text Lexi.

Carlee

If I go missing, I’m still at Obsidian. Okay?

Lexi immediately sends me a text back.

Lexi

Why would you go missing?

Carlee

I’ll fill you in when I leave.

Lexi

You’re worrying me!

Carlee

I’m fine. The night was a bust with Sam. You were right. PER USUAL.

She calls me, and I reject it immediately.

“Hi,” I say to the giant standing next to me, attempting to sound casual. “Do you escort women up here often?”

He shakes his head, but his lips remain sealed. I glance at my phone, realizing time is slipping away like grains of sand.

The tension in my chest doesn’t ease as the black doors glide open. It’s disorienting, knowing how loud it was in the club and how quiet it is on this floor.

“Are the walls soundproof?” I ask as I freak myself out. What if I scream in here? Will anyone hear me?

The guy ignores me.

I’m led down a short hallway, and lanterns with flickering flames hang above. My heels click rhythmically against the marble floor, echoing in the stillness. As I approach, another guard waits at the entrance.

The door opens, and I step inside alone.

The space is stunning and luxurious without being overwhelming. It’s classic and simple. The glow from low-lit lamps creates an intimate atmosphere. The glass walls are crystal clear, and I can see everything from here.

A fireplace blazes in the corner, and an L-shaped couch faces it. The glow of the flame fills the room. That’s when I notice a man with broad shoulders in a nicely fitted suit, sipping a glass of something, his back toward me.

He clears his throat and waves me forward. I take a few steps, ready to see the face of the man who’s secretly made a difference in the city.

“Hi,” I say. “I’m …”

As Weston fucking Calloway meets my gaze, the world around me fades away. My mouth falls open, and he smirks, placing that bourbon glass against his perfect lips. Goose bumps trail over me as I meet his eyes.

“Is this a joke?” I whisper.

He sets down his glass and then moves toward me.

Weston grabs my hand and twirls me around before stepping back to get a proper look at me. I take him in, dressed in black from head to toe with diamond cuff links and rings. He’s devilish and tempting, and I’m half convinced I’m dreaming.

“Fucking gorgeous,” he mutters.

“You can thank Lex,” I whisper.

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