Chapter 238
“Do I really have to go?” I ask, still searching for an excuse. “I didn’t even bring a dress p>
We woke up about an hour and a half ago, had dinner, and now we’re getting ready to head out.
Lilly, of course, looks unreal. She’s in a black sequin halter dress paired with Louboutin heels. Her hair is pulled into a sleek ponytail, her makeup flawless. Soft enough to enhance her features, bold enough to command attention. Her grey eyes pop, and her red lips are the kind that make women question their sexuality.
She looks ready to dance the night away and have every man in the club trip over himself trying to get her attention. Meanwhile, I feel like a zombie.
Honestly, if I hadn’t already agreed to come with her, I would’ve stayed right here in bed.
“Relax,” she says, already rummaging through her things. “I’ve got you p>
She pulls out a navy-blue strapless dress and hands it to me.
I sigh, taking it, fully aware that there’s no escaping this now. When I come back dressed, I’m relieved to find that it’s not too tight.
“Now for your makeup,” she says, pushing me toward a chair.
“Nope,” I protest. “I’m not going full glam today p>
I grab my makeup bag and keep it simple. Foundation, concealer, mascara, and lip gloss. Just enough to look alive. Once we’re done, we head out.
At the club, we barely slow down before being directed to the VVIP line and ushered straight inside. No waiting. No questions. Just flashing lights, heavy bass, and a night I’m not entirely sure I’m ready for.
We’re assigned a host the moment we step inside, and she leads us through the crowd to our booth in the VVIP section.
“My name is Mary, and I’ll be your host tonight,” she says with a warm smile, pulling out a small notepad. “What can I get you p>
“I’ll have an espresso martini,” Lilly answers without hesitation.
“I’ll just have a Coke,” I say.
Mary jots it down and smiles again. “I’ll bring those right away p>
She disappears into the crowd, and for a moment, all that surrounds us is the thumping bass of the music and the shouts and laughter of drunk people letting loose.
I sink into the booth, letting the noise wash over me, wondering how long it’ll take before this night decides to get interesting.
“So,” Lilly asks, leaning back against the plush seat, eyes bright as she scans the room, “what do you think of Paris nightlife p>
I hum. “It’s not special. Just… meh p>
“Hater,” she says.
“I’m just stating facts p>
She snorts, lifting her glass. “Facts? You’ve spoken like a woman who is five minutes away from demanding her bed and a heating pad p>
“I would never,” I lie, adjusting myself on the seat. My back already aches and the music feels like it’s vibrating straight through my skull.
That’s when Lilly stiffens beside me.
“Oh hell,” she mutters.
I follow her gaze and there he is. The last person I wanted to see here.
Noah.
He steps into the club like he owns the damn place, dressed in black from head to toe, sharp lines, broad shoulders, that familiar controlled arrogance clinging to him like a second skin. He’s with a group of men and women who look equally polished in tailored suits and sleek dresses—the kind of people who scream old money and generational power.
Lilly leans in. “French heirs. Tech, real estate, old banking families. That one?” She subtly nods at a tall blond man. “Owns half of Marseille’s port p>
“Nice,” I mutter.
She glances at me, eyes glittering. “Coincidence or is the universe trying to tell you something p>
I shoot her a look. “If the universe wanted to tell me something, it wouldn’t use Noah Wood as the messenger p>
“Deny it all you want,” she says, “but I think it’s trying to tell you something p>
“Well, until it slaps me with whatever it’s trying to say, I’m not listening to a damn thing p>
She laughs but I feel it then… The shift in the air.
Noah hasn’t looked our way yet, but I know when he does, it’s like a pressure change. Like something invisible tightens around my chest.
His eyes lift and they find me instantly, but just as quickly, his face shuts down.
He doesn’t acknowledge us. Doesn’t nod. Doesn’t react. He just turns back to his group like we don’t exist.
Except I feel his gaze anyway. It brushes against me when I look away. Lingers when I don’t. A quiet, maddening awareness that makes my skin prickle.
“I hate him,” I mutter.
“You say that like your pulse didn’t just jump,” Lilly replies.
I snort. Lilly has this delusion that Noah still affects me, when in reality, that couldn’t be further from the truth. Does he make my heart race? Yes, but not in the way she thinks. It’s a spike born from anger and confusion, not longing. That distinction matters
“I’m pregnant,” I say dryly. “My pulse jumps when I smell bread p>
She laughs again, then grabs my hand. “Dance with me p>
“What? No p>
Too late. She’s already pulling me toward the dance floor.