He opened the car door for her like a gentleman, then circled to the driver's seat. His jaw was tense as they drove through the city lights, the club's neon sign glowing brighter with every block they passed.
As they pulled up to Eclipse, Amelia looked out the window with a fond sigh. "God, I missed this place."
Ethan didn't respond.
Not even when the valet rushed toward the car.
Not when the doormen did a double take through the windshield.
And certainly not when a hostess gasped and ran back inside.
Amelia turned to him, confused. "Is everything okay?"
Ethan dragged a hand down his face, cursing under his breath. "I forgot the staff here still knows me."
"What do you mean..."
And then it happened.
As soon as Ethan stepped out of the car, the front doors burst open.
"Boss!" the manager called. "We didn't know you were coming tonight, should we clear the VIP lounge? Do you want the penthouse suite prepped?"
Amelia's jaw dropped.
The valet bowed slightly. "Mr. Blackwell, your usual table?"
Ethan winced.
And cursed again.
Loudly.
Amelia just stood there, blinking. "Mr. Blackwell?"
Ethan didn't flinch, didn't blink. Years of hiding in plain sight had trained him for moments like this.
He smiled at the club manager, clapped him on the shoulder like an old friend, and said smoothly, "Hey, hey, how many times have I told you? I'm not him. My best friend's the one who signs your checks."
The manager blinked, confused, then laughed nervously. "Right.. sorry, sorry. Force of habit."
Amelia tilted her head. "You have a best friend who looks exactly like you and happens to own this place?"
Ethan turned to her with a sheepish shrug, hands shoved in his pockets. "We grew up together. Ethan Blackwell. Practically raised in the same house. People always said we looked alike. He used to drag me here all the time before I decided I preferred dirt and plants over loud music and drama."
Amelia arched a brow, half amused. "That's… oddly specific."
"I keep telling the staff here I'm not him, but they always mix us up," he said, forcing a chuckle. "I guess they're just terrified of offending the real boss."
The doormen bowed as they opened the entrance. "Of course, sir. This way."
Ethan glanced at Amelia and leaned in to whisper, "See what I mean?"
She laughed softly, the tension in her shoulders easing. "Well, your 'friend' must be someone important if they all trip over themselves like that."
"Terrifying," Ethan agreed with a crooked grin. "You don't want to be on his bad side."
They stepped into the club and were instantly swallowed by the intoxicating pulse of music and color.
The dim lighting bathed the interior in seductive blues and purples, chandeliers glinting like stars overhead.
The bass vibrated through their bones, and the air smelled of expensive perfume, whiskey, and anticipation.
Amelia hesitated, absorbing it all. "I haven't been in a place like this in years."
"Then tonight, you're not Mrs. Vale," Ethan said, guiding her toward a secluded booth with velvet lined seats. "Tonight, you're just Amelia. And you're allowed to enjoy yourself."
She slid in beside him, the music easing into her bloodstream.
There were no cameras. No Richard. No expectations. Just this stranger turned confidant beside her, charming, mysterious, and impossibly kind.
A server came over instantly, bowing a little too low. "Would you like your usual, sir?"
Ethan held up a hand. "No. Just two cocktails. Surprise us."
The server blinked. "Yes, sir. Right away."
Amelia gave him a teasing look. "I thought you weren't him."
"I'm not," he replied smoothly. "But they don't listen."
She sipped her drink when it came, a bright tropical blend that sent warmth through her chest. "So, this mysterious best friend of yours, what's he like?"
Ethan grinned. "Brilliant. Arrogant. Hates the press. Wealthy as hell but would rather die than attend another gala. Kind of a recluse. But loyal to the people he cares about."
"Sounds like someone I'd like to meet."
Ethan's smile faltered just a second. "Maybe someday."
She swirled the drink in her hand, looking down at the shimmering ice. "You know, for a gardener, you're full of surprises."
He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. "And for a woman who thinks she's broken, you're full of life."
Amelia's eyes met his, intense, unreadable, searching.
Then she smiled. A real one. No hesitation. No mask.
"Thank you, Ethan."
"For what?"
"For reminding me what it's like to breathe."
They danced that night, nothing wild, nothing flashy. Just swaying in the shadows, wrapped in low lights and whispered laughter. He never pushed. She never pulled away.
And for a few hours, Amelia forgot she was the woman whose life had fallen apart.
Outside, the city kept moving.
And in the darkened corners of Eclipse, beneath a lie told with the purest intentions, something delicate and dangerous was beginning to bloom.
The music throbbed louder now. Or maybe that was the way Amelia's pulse had picked up with every minute beside Ethan.
Her body was warm, limbs loose, and the air inside Eclipse had turned heady, sultry, like temptation whispered through every beat.
They returned to their booth, and Amelia was flushed from dancing. Her hair clung to her neck, cheeks pink, eyes glassy.
Ethan waved off the server, handing her a glass of water. "You need to slow down. You've had enough for tonight."
Amelia raised a brow, half laughing. "Are you my father now?"
He didn't smile. "No. I'm the guy trying to make sure you don't wake up tomorrow hating yourself."
She pushed the glass away.
Then she waved at the bar.
"Something stronger," she called out, and the server, eyes darting between her and Ethan, hesitated.
"Ma'am..."
"I said something stronger," she repeated with a slurred smirk. "Neat."
Ethan sat forward, voice firm. "She doesn't need it."
Amelia turned to him, lips curling. "Ethan."
His name dripped from her mouth like something wicked.
"I'm your boss, remember?"
He sighed. "That's not fair."
She leaned in, breath laced with alcohol and defiance. "Neither is falling in love with someone who stops loving you back."
His chest tightened.
"Amelia…"
But she wasn't listening.