JAY'S POV
The bottle spins like it has a personal vendetta against me.
Round and round—laughter, shouting, chaos—and then it slows… slows… and stops.
At me.
"No," I say immediately, pointing at it like I can intimidate glass into changing its mind. "Absolutely not."
Lily grins, wicked and unhelpful. "Truth or dare, bride?"
I should say truth.
I don't.
"…Dare," I mutter, already regretting it.
The table erupts.
"Oh she's gone," Lucy laughs.
James leans forward, eyes lighting up like this is the best moment of his life. "Oh this is going to be GOOD."
Lily doesn't even hesitate. "Go to the bar, pick a guy, flirt with him—and get his number."
I blink.
"You're joking."
"Nope."
"I'm engaged," I deadpan.
"Fake engaged," James shoots back instantly. "Don't hide behind technicalities and plus you're still single in one sense not married so you have to do it..."
"I'm not doing that."
"Woah," he leans back dramatically. "Jay Mariano… backing out? I didn't know we had a coward in the group."
My eyes narrow.
"I am not a coward."
"Then prove it."
Silence.One beat.Two.
I grab my drink, down it in one go, and stand.
"Fine," I say coolly. "If I wanted to, I could get any guy in this club."
James smirks. "We're waiting."
The walk to the bar feels longer than it should.
Not because I'm nervous—But because I can feel their eyes on me.Watching.Waiting.
I slide onto a barstool, scanning casually until I spot him.Dark. Quiet. Intense.
The kind of man who doesn't try—and doesn't need to.
Perfect.
I lean slightly toward him, letting my fingers brush the counter first… then his sleeve.
"Rough night handsome?" I ask lightly.
He turns, eyes flicking over me with interest.
"Yeah but it just got better now," he replies.
I smile.
"Careful," I murmur, tilting my head slightly. "That sounded like a rom-com line."
"Maybe it is," he says, leaning in just a fraction.
My fingers trail higher along his arm.
And then—They're gone.
My wrist is suddenly caught.Firm.
"What the hell—"
I don't even finish.He's already pulling me.
Keifer.
Through the crowd, past the lights, out of the noise—until the music dulls and I'm shoved back against a cold wall.
My breath catches.
He's right there.Too close.Too intense.Too everything.
"What the hell are you doing?" I snap, but it comes out weaker than I want.
His hand is still around my wrist.The other braced beside my head.Caging me in.
His jaw is tight.Eyes dark.
"Care to explain," he says, voice low and controlled in a way that's far more dangerous than shouting, "what exactly that was?"
I let out a sharp breath. "A dare."
"A dare," he repeats flatly.
"Yes."
"You were about to climb into his lap for a dare?"
"Oh please," I scoff. "Don't be dramatic."
His grip tightens.Not painful.But enough to make my pulse spike.
"I'm not being dramatic," he says, leaning closer—his voice dropping further. "I'm being very controlled right now."
Something in my stomach twists.
"You don't get to control me,you have absolutely no right.." I shoot back, lifting my chin. "Remember the rules?"
His gaze flicks to my lips for half a second.
Then back to my eyes.
"Yeah," he murmurs. "I remember them."
His breath is close enough that I can feel it.
"but then I also remember seeing ," he continues quietly, "you walking around in that dress and letting random men think they have a chance."
My lips part slightly.
"That's none of your business."
"It becomes my business," he says, voice tightening, "when you forget what you walked into."
I laugh, sharp. "This? This is exactly what I walked into—a deal, Keifer. Not ownership."
Something flickers in his expression.Dark
Dangerous.
His hand shifts—loosening from my wrist, but not moving away.
"If that's what you think this is," he says slowly, "then you're playing a very risky game."
My heart is beating too fast.
"Maybe I like risky," I whisper.
Big mistake.Because his head dips just slightly closer—Not touching.But close enough that my breath stutters.
"You don't," he says quietly. "Not like this."
For a second—I forget everything.The rules.
The deal.The fact that this is supposed to mean nothing.
Then I push against his chest lightly.
"Move away from me Keifer" I say, steadier now.
He doesn't.
Instead, he exhales sharply, dragging a hand through his hair like he's physically forcing himself to step back.
"This is done,you are so done." he mutters.
"I'm not done," I snap. "I'm going back—"
"No, you're not."
"Yes, I am."
"Jay—"
"I said I—"
And then suddenly—The ground disappears.
"WHAT THE—KEIFER?!"
He's lifted me.Like I weigh nothing,he threw me over his shoulder like I'm some kind of child...
"PUT ME DOWN!"
"Not happening."
"KEIFER I SWEAR TO GOD—"
He doesn't even slow down.
Walking straight out of the corridor, through the club, ignoring every stare, every voice, every protest as I hit his back lightly in frustration.
"This is kidnapping!"
"Relax," he says dryly. "It's damage control."
"I hate you!"
"No, you don't."
I freeze.Just for a second and he keeps walking—
Like he already knows that's the one argument I don't have an answer for.
By the time we step outside, the cold air hits my skin—and reality crashes back in.
But his grip doesn't loosen and neither does the tension between us because whatever just happened in there—
It wasn't part of the deal.
Not even close.
The drive back is suffocatingly quiet, the kind that presses against your chest and makes every unsaid word feel louder, and by the time the car stops outside my house.
I'm already reaching for the door, done with the tension, done with him—until his voice cuts through, low and firm,
"Jay,"
And before I can turn fully, his coat is suddenly around my shoulders, warm, heavy, carrying his scent like it belongs there, like I belong in it.
I instinctively clutch it tighter even as I glare at him,
"I don't need it," but he just looks at me—really looks, jaw tight, eyes dark, controlled anger still simmering—and says,
"Wear it," not asking, not negotiating, just stating, and for a second I don't argue, I just nod, quieter than I should be,
"…fine," before stepping out, pulling the coat closer as I walk away without looking back, even though I can feel his gaze on me the entire time, like he hasn't let go yet.
KEIFER'S POV
The second she disappears, it hits—harder than anything in that club—
What the hell did I just do!!??
Because I wasn't supposed to lose control, not with her, not when we had rules, not when this was supposed to be clean and contained, but the image of her laughing, touching someone else, letting another man look at her like that—
it snaps something in me all over again, and before I can stop myself, the engine roars and I'm already driving back, fast, reckless, until I see him still sitting there like he didn't just cross a line he didn't even understand.
I didn't think, I just grab him, drag him up, and the first punch lands before he can react, sharp, precise, controlled fury spilling out with every hit as I mutter through clenched teeth.
"Stay… away… from… her," until he's barely steady, barely breathing, and I finally let go, leaning in just enough to make sure he hears me when I say quietly, dangerously,
"Next time, you won't get a warning," before walking away like it's nothing—but it's not nothing, not even close, because as I step out into the cold night.
One thing settles deep and unshakable in my chest—tomorrow she becomes mine, not just for the world, not just for the deal, but in every way that matters to me, and whether she believes it or not, whether she fights it or not—
I'm not letting her go....
I'm never letting her go.....
She's mine,only and only mine...