It is around 10 PM.
I've logged out from work for today. Leaning back against my chair, I look up at the pastel pink ceiling of my room, little white stars painted here and there, scattered aimlessly.
The air smells of cocoa butter and vanilla, mostly from the body lotion I used after a long shower to wash away the heaviness of the day.
Raising my left hand in the air, I remember the ghost of Aaron's big, rough palm around mine. Compared to him, my hands are tiny and far too soft. Usually, I feel overwhelmed when someone's hand swallows mine like it's nothing—but his felt… safe.
A sigh escapes as I rub my face, as if I could rub away the memory of his eyes on mine. His cold, dangerous threat to Mark. The way his tone softened only when he spoke to me.
Aaron Erikson… just what are you doing to me?
Thump!
"Ahhh!" I scream, clutching my chest where my heart threatens to leap out, startled by the sudden slam of my door.
Jamila leans against the frame, dressed in a crimson Victorian ruffle blouse tucked neatly into a black A-line skirt, her hair braided messily so her bangs frame her face. Mischief sparks in her eyes, making me shift uncomfortably in my chair.
"Where are you going all dressed up?" I frown.
She smirks, stepping in with deliberate grace. "Not I. We."
My eyes widen. I jump from my chair onto the bed. "I AM NOT GOING ANYWHERE!" I shout, but Jamila's grin doesn't falter.
And of course, things get worse—two more maniacs walk in.
Chloe Bennett, dressed in a sophisticated burgundy silk blouse with a deep V-line that shamelessly teases her cleavage, paired with black pinstripe trousers highlighting her small waist and wide hips.
Her pale, glassy skin catches the lamplight, her glossy cherry-red hair frames her heart-shaped face, lips painted to match. Hazel-green eyes sparkle with mischief.
Behind her, Beatrix Wolff looks like an angel disguised as sin. A black satin mini dress clings to her curves, draped neckline and spaghetti straps leaving her long, waxed legs scandalously bare.
Blonde hair falls in an artfully messy curtain. Her soft, innocent makeup only makes her body scream louder.
"What are you three doing?" I demand. Beatrix is the biggest party animal, but Chloe works insane night shifts at the hospital—her one day off should be spent sleeping, not partying.
And Jamila? This woman doesn't smoke, doesn't drink, doesn't party.
"Just going to have a little fun. London's too wild to waste the night," Chloe smirks, chewing gum.
"Fun? YOU TWO LOOK LIKE YOU WANT TO GET LAID!" I jab a finger at Chloe and Beatrix. Based on past disasters, I know nothing good comes of going out with them.
Jamila tosses a dress in my face. "We're not going to a party or bar, you idiot." She glares like I've insulted her honor.
"Mila, you have no idea, okay? These two are crazy. You'll end up fighting drunk dudes to drag them home."
Beatrix snorts. "Nini, listen. We're just popular girls, right Chloe?"
Chloe smirks, wrapping her arms around Beatrix's waist, pulling her down like some Casanova. "Oh, Lady Wolff, I'm mesmerized by your luscious curves and rosy lips."
Jamila crosses her arms, unimpressed, while Beatrix giggles and cups her cheeks like she's actually blushing. "Oh, Lord Bennett, you're the most manly man I've ever met."
My stomach twists.
Seriously.
The straightest ones are always the gayest.
"Are you two done?" Jamila asks. Both nod, straightening up.
"I'm not going. I'm too tired from wo—"
Before I can finish, Jamila yanks my arms behind my back while Beatrix and Chloe advance, grinning like predators catching prey.
"NOOOOOOOOOOO!" I shriek.
The rest is history.
I'm stripped out of pajamas and shoved into a tight yellow mini dress with a ruched bodice hugging my curves, neckline stopping just above my collarbone, sleeveless with thin straps.
My legs, toned and freshly waxed are on display.
This waxing credit goes to Aaron Erikson cause to forget him I waxed my legs to days ago... did help?
Nope.
Beatrix works her magic with makeup—foundation, concealer, smoky eyes, mascara, warm blush, powder, and burgundy lips. Jamila fluffs my curls into perfect volume.
Forty minutes later, under Chloe's strict supervision, I've transformed from an overworked corporate zombie to a woman in her mid-twenties who smells like sin and seduction.
"Wow, you look fucking gorgeous," Chloe gasps. For once, her compliment makes me puff my chest with pride.
"Of course I'm gorgeous." I wink, and Chloe just shakes her head in disbelief.
Jamila claps. "LET'S GOOO! WE'RE GOING TO CHI LOU, BEST CHINESE FOOD IN LONDON!"
I frown. "Chi Lou is an entertainment pavilion, you don't even drink!"
"They have private halal dining," she shrugs. "I'm going for food. You three can dance."
Beatrix fixes her lipstick. "They have the most authentic, luxurious service. And unlike bars, no random men bothering us."
She's right. Chi Lou—also called the Red Pavilion—isn't exactly a brothel, but it's not just a club or restaurant either. No one knows the owner, but one thing is fact: he loves women. Not in a predatory way—he worships them.
Which means no woman ever gets harassed there. Any man who tries is dragged out instantly.
I've never been, though Beatrix and Chloe are regulars.
We pile into Beatrix's Bentley. I still wonder what she does to afford one when all she ever does is party.
I met her six years ago in Singapore, over coffee and shared obsession with dark romance novels.
Chloe, I met three years ago in an ER—where she saved me after I'd done something reckless post-breakup. Later, in the hospital garden, she shared her story. It broke me. But it also made me admire her.
When Jamila, Beatrix, and I had a spare room, Chloe moved in. And somehow, four strangers from four corners of the world—India, Germany, America, ended up together.
A chaotic group of friends, with me as the introvert sloth doing the most extroverted job.
I roll down the car window, letting London's night air kiss my skin. I whisper to myself, "Just for tonight, I want to forget it all." Including Aaron Erikson.
And… fuck my life.
Because if anything ever went according to my plan, God would have been bored.
This night wasn't supposed to unfold this way.
It wasn't supposed to flip my life 360 degrees.
....
"Fuck,Princess, You have me wrapped around your pretty mouth like a good girl huh?"