"Because you're clearly not listening when I talk to you and tell you that it's not about you... you come in here, acting like-"

"Oh, for God's sake." Olivia turned away, pacing once across the immaculate living room. Her heels clicked sharply against the hardwood. "Not about me? Seriously? All I want is for you to just show up," she said, spinning back toward him. "That's it. Not promises. Not five-year plans. Just... show up. Why is that so hard for you to do?"

"I do show up."

"When it suits you."

"That's not fair."

"Stop saying that!" Her voice rose, cracking slightly at the edges. "This is how I feel, Jack and I'm trying to communicate it to you. You don't get to decide what feels fair to me."

He stared at her like she was someone he didn't quite recognise.

"You know we've had a lot of talks, but you've never complained...Sounded like this before."

He was kinda right. In the past they'd had several talks, but she'd always tried to make it more of a conversation than a full blown argument like this one. She figured he'd listen if she talked slower, calmer, just like him, but putting all her emotions in check and trying to keep it all in was clearly getting her nowhere.

"Maybe I should have." she replied.

That silenced him. The air shifted. Something raw had surfaced. He spoke more carefully now. "Is this just about last night?"

Just? Was he fucking playing with her? "Yes. And the night before. And the week before that."

He shook his head slowly. "You're overreacting."

And there it was. Something inside her snapped. "Am I?" she demanded. "Because I'm starting to wonder if I'm the only one actually in this relationship."

His face hardened. "That's ridiculous. What has gotten into you?"

"Screw you for asking me that," Her voice wavered now, anger bleeding into hurt. "When was the last time you did something for me that I didn't ask for? When was the last time you cleared out time for me... No work or interference? Just me. Bet you can't remember."

"That's not true."

"It is."

He didn't respond. Because it was. The silence thickened, and finally, he said quietly, "What do you want from me, Liv?"

The question shouldn't have sounded so exhausting, but it did and Olivia swallowed. "I want to feel wanted."

The admission hung fragile between them. Jack's expression flickered - guilt? frustration? - then settled back into composure. "You are wanted." He said.

"Then stop making me feel optional."

Another beat. He looked at his watch. He actually looked at his watch, and her stomach dropped.

"You have somewhere to be," she said flatly.

"I told you, I've got an early start tomorrow."

"Of course you do."

She grabbed her bag from the console table.

"Olivia-"

"No." She held up a hand. "Don't smooth this over with another promise. I don't need reassurance. I need action, and until you can do that, stay the hell away from me."

She moved toward the door.

"Liv, don't storm out."

"I'm not storming out. I'm leaving."

She opened the door.

"Wait?" he said, tension finally creeping into his voice. "Are we going to be okay?"

She paused. Were they? "I don't know," she said honestly. "But I can't keep feeling like this."

And then she stepped out into the hallway, the door closing behind her with a quiet, final click.

__________

Olivia didn't check her phone when she walked into her apartment the following day.

She dropped her handbag onto the narrow console table by the door, kicked off her heels with less grace than usual, and stood there for a moment in the dim quiet.

Silence greeted her. No missed calls. No apology text. No 'how was work today?' No 'are you home safe?'

Her chest tightened. It had been almost twenty-four hours since she'd walked out of Jack's apartment. Twenty-four hours since she'd said she couldn't keep feeling like this. And he hadn't called. Not once.

She swallowed against the thick ache rising in her throat and finally pulled her phone from her coat pocket. The screen lit up, hopeful and accusing all at once.

Nothing. Her stomach dipped.

Two years. Two years they'd spent together.... But It hadn't always felt like this. Once, in the beginning, he'd surprised her with flowers at the office. Once, he'd cancelled meetings to take her away for a spontaneous weekend. Once, he'd looked at her like she was the only thing in the room. But for the past year... she couldn't pinpoint when it shifted. Just that it had. Slowly. Quietly. Like something precious eroding without her noticing until it was too late.

She sank onto the edge of her sofa, rubbing a hand over her face. Maybe she'd overreacted. Maybe she should call him. Maybe-

No.

She'd done enough reaching out and understanding. The heaviness in her chest pressed harder. Thinking about it wasn't helping. If anything, it was making her feel small. Disposable... And she was tired.

The kind of tired that seeped into your bones after a long day of smiling at clients and pretending your personal life wasn't unraveling thread by thread. She needed noise. Laughter. Distraction. Before she could talk herself out of it, she scrolled to Isabella's name and pressed call.

It rang once. "Liv!" Isabella answered, bright and immediate. "I was literally just about to call you."

Olivia blinked, caught off guard. "Really?"

"Yes! I just hung up with Tess. I was dialing you next."

A smile tugged at Olivia's mouth. "That's slightly terrifying. Are you both psychic now?"

"Please. If I were psychic, I'd have bought Bitcoin in 2012," Isabella shot back. "Are you okay?"

Olivia hesitated. The simple question nearly undid her, "I'm... fine," she lied, staring at the blank television screen opposite her. "Just tired."

Isabella hummed thoughtfully - the kind of hum that said she didn't believe that for a second. "Good. Then this is perfect timing."

"For what?"

"For drinks. Obviously."

Olivia's lips twitched despite herself. "Obviously."

"There's this new place Tess found -" Isabella paused dramatically, "- don't react, I know, I know - but apparently it's actually decent. It's called The Velvet Hour. Low lighting, strong cocktails, questionable life choices encouraged."

That pulled a real laugh out of her. "Questionable life choices?" Olivia echoed.

"Exactly what we need. Tess is in. You in?"

Olivia leaned back into the cushions and stared at the ceiling. A bar. Music. Her girls. No thoughts. No Jack. No almost-kisses in pink bathrooms or kitchens. Just noise.

"That," she said slowly, "is exactly what I need."

Izzy whooped softly. "Knew it."

"I'm in the mood for something strong," Olivia admitted. "Very strong. Possibly with a lime. Or three."

"Say less. Tequila it is."

"Oh God," Olivia groaned, though the heaviness in her chest had lightened by a fraction.

"Nine o'clock?" Izzy continued. "The Velvet Hour. Dress hot. Or comfortable. Or emotionally chaotic. Whatever vibe you're feeling."

Olivia glanced down at herself - rumpled blouse, skirt slightly creased from a full day of viewings. Emotionally chaotic sounded about right. "Nine's perfect." She said,

"Good. And Liv?"

"Yeah?"

"You don't sound fine."

The softness in Izzy's voice made her throat tighten again. "I'm not," she admitted quietly.

A beat of silence.

"Then tonight," Izzy said firmly, "we fix that. Or at least numb it."

Olivia let out a breath that felt like it had been lodged in her lungs all day."Thank you, Izzy."

"Always."

They hung up, and the apartment didn't feel quite as suffocating anymore. Olivia walked toward her bedroom, phone still in her hand.

Nine o'clock. Three hours to shower off the day, paint on confidence, and pretend her heart didn't feel like it was splintering. As she laid her phone on the dresser, the screen lit up briefly from a delayed notification.

Her pulse jumped. She snatched it up.

Spam email.

She exhaled slowly, disappointment cutting deeper than she wanted to admit. Still nothing from Jack.

Fine. Tonight she wouldn't wait for him to show up. Tonight she would show up for herself. And maybe, just maybe, forget her troubles with Jack... And the sound of Derek Hawthorne's voice saying no harm, no foul.

Because harm? She was feeling plenty of it already.

_________

The apartment felt different now. Not lighter - not exactly - but purposeful.

Olivia stood in front of her mirror, the soft yellow glow of her bedroom lamp casting warmth over her skin. Music pulsed quietly from her speaker, something upbeat enough to drown out intrusive thoughts. Her bed was a mess of discarded outfit options - dresses deemed "too desperate," skirts labelled "too effort," and one soft sweater she'd briefly considered before deciding she refused to look like heartbreak tonight.

She chose the jeans. High-waisted, dark, fitted in all the right places. Knee-high black boots that gave her height and edge. And the black corset top - structured, unapologetic, hugging her waist and lifting her posture whether she felt strong or not.

She stared at herself for a moment.

Then she sat and began the real armor. Smokey eye. Dark, intentional, slightly dramatic. She blended until her sadness looked like seduction. A sharp line of eyeliner. Red lipstick - bold, dangerous, defiant. If her heart felt bruised, no one would see it.

When she stood again, she looked... hot. Undeniably so. Not fragile. Good.

She grabbed her bag and ordered a taxi. Driving was out of the question. Not with the kind of drinking she planned to do tonight. Not with the kind of night she needed. And honestly? She didn't trust herself to be alone with her thoughts behind a steering wheel.

By the time the taxi pulled up outside The Velvet Hour, the street was alive.

The sign glowed in deep crimson against black brick. Bass from inside vibrated faintly through the pavement. Laughter spilled out every time the door opened. She paid the driver, stepped out, and inhaled deeply. Tonight, she would not think about Jack.

It was 9:30 when she walked in. Dim lighting. Gold accents. Velvet booths lining the walls. The air smelled faintly of citrus, perfume, and something expensive and smoky.

It didn't take long to spot her friends. Tessa was already mid-laugh, head thrown back, her blonde waves cascading over her shoulders. Isabella sat opposite her, dark hair sleek and glossy, looking effortlessly polished in a fitted emerald dress. Olivia slid into the booth and both heads snapped up.

"Well," Tessa breathed dramatically. "Who is she?"

Isabella's eyes widened as she slowly looked Olivia up and down. "Liv Carter, are we seducing someone or ruining someone?"

Olivia smirked. "Can't it be both?"

They all burst into laughter, the sound warm and immediate and grounding.

"You look illegal," Tessa added.

"You look like trouble," Isabella corrected.

Olivia slid her small bag onto the table. "Good."

Tessa immediately waved down a waiter. "Hi, yes," she said sweetly. "We'll take shots."

The waiter blinked. "How many?"

Tessa glanced at Olivia. "How bad was the day?"

Olivia considered. "Scale of one to ten?"

"Sure."

"Jack."

Tessa didn't hesitate. "We'll take six. To start."

The waiter nodded and disappeared.

"Love that for us," Isabella said, adjusting her bracelet.

The shots arrived quickly. Clear liquid in neat little glasses, lime wedges on a small plate beside them. They didn't wait. Glasses clinked.

"To bad decisions," Tessa declared.

"To better ones," Isabella corrected.

Olivia lifted hers last. "To not thinking." she said

They drank. The burn was immediate. Sharp and cleansing, but they didn't stop at one. By the third round, the music felt louder and Olivia felt warmer. Looser. The tight band around her chest had eased... not gone, but blurred. And that was when Tess leaned back against the booth and narrowed her eyes.

"Right," she said. "Time for your Intervention... As promised,"

Olivia groaned and pouted. "Nooo"

"Yes," Isabella chimed in smoothly. "We postponed. We did not cancel."

Tessa pointed at her with a lime wedge. "Jack is a walking red flag."

Olivia laughed lightly. "He is not."

"He cancels on you constantly."

"He's busy."

"He didn't call after your fight." Tessa told her, "You said so in your text this morning,"

Olivia hesitated slightly before forcing a casual shrug. "Maybe... He needs space to think after what I told him,"

Isabella leaned forward, voice gentler now but firm. "Liv, you can do better."

The alcohol softened the sting of their words, but not entirely. Olivia smiled - calm, composed, and slightly flushed. "He's not that bad. He's just... bad at priorities. And communication. And timing."

Tessa stared at her. "You hear yourself, right?" she asked.

Olivia let out a small laugh. "We had a fight. It's fine. We'll fix it."

Isabella tilted her head. "Then why were you so sad when I called? I know it was about him."

That hit, and Olivia's smile faltered for half a second. "I was just tired," she said, softer now. "We argued. It happens. It's not the end of the world."

Tessa's eyes softened as well, but she didn't back down. "Liv-"

Olivia raised her hands lightly in surrender. "Please. I came out tonight to forget about him. Not dissect him. Can we not do this anymore tonight?"

There was a pause, then Tessa exhaled and lifted her shot glass again. "Fine, Liv," she said loudly. "I agree. We'll drop it for now, but only because you definitely need to loosen up and have some bloody fun."

And just as she said it -

A male voice cut smoothly into their space. "I can definitely help her with that..."

All three of them turned.

He stood beside the booth like he'd been summoned by the word fun itself. Tall. Broad shoulders under a dark button-down rolled at the sleeves. A drink in one hand. The other casually tucked into his pocket. His jaw sharp under the low amber lighting.

And that smile. Lazy. Confident. Slightly wicked. But it was his eyes that mattered. They weren't on Tessa, or on Isabella. They were glued on Olivia. Steady. Assessing, and definitely Interested.

Derek Hawthorne.

__________

For a split second, the noise of the bar dimmed.

It didn't actually fade - the bass still thudded, glasses still clinked, laughter still burst from nearby tables - but inside Olivia's head, everything narrowed to one point.

Him.

Her pulse kicked hard against her ribs, sudden and violent - whether from alcohol or the shock of seeing him, she couldn't tell. What the hell was he doing here, she thought, as every other thought flew right out of her head. And worse - why did her body react like this?

Oh... This was not good. Not when she was already two shots in. Not when her emotions were hanging by a thread. Not when she'd come here specifically to forget complications, not invite new ones.

She heard Tessa mutter under her breath, "Oh, this should be illegal." as she stared at Derek and couldn't even blame her friend.

Derek Hawthorne stood there like he belonged in the dim amber lighting. Effortlessly put together. Effortlessly dangerous. The man was too damn attractive for his own good or anyone else's for that matter.

"How's the evening going, ladies?" Derek asked smoothly. His voice was rich, controlled and entirely too confident. He finally dragged his gaze away from Olivia to address the table, and only then did she realize she'd been holding her breath. "Having fun?"

Isabella blinked at him. "You said you'd leave us alone, Derek." There was a slight frown on her face, but no real heat behind it. More sibling irritation than genuine annoyance.

Derek placed a hand over his chest dramatically. "Oh, come on, Izzy." He even pouted - actually pouted - in a way that would've been ridiculous on any other man. On him, it was annoyingly charming. "It's boring being alone here. I have no friends in this town. Everyone's gone now."

"Then make new ones," his sister shot back smoothly. "Or find some woman to pick up. You're very good at that."

Olivia didn't miss the pointed tone. Derek ignored it completely, and once again, his eyes slid back to her.

"So..." he drawled, tilting his head slightly. "She's finally here."

Her stomach flipped. He had known she was coming? She raised a brow at Isabella.

Isabella sighed. "He said he wanted to go out too. I told him he could come - as long as he stayed away from us, so I don't know why he's back here."

Derek gave an innocent shrug.

"Oh relax," Tessa chimed in, grinning. "His company is not all that bad."

"Thank you, Tessa," Derek declared grandly. Before anyone could stop him, he leaned over, gently took Tessa's hand in his, and pressed a theatrical kiss to the back of it.

Tessa gasped dramatically, cheeks flushing bright pink. "Stop it."

Olivia nearly rolled her eyes. Isabella didn't nearly. She fully did, and almost sent her eyeballs to the back of her head.

"Save your charms for your bimbos and twinkies, Derek." She told her brother.

He chuckled, low and unbothered, then moved. Olivia tracked him from the corner of her eye. And then her stomach dropped. He wasn't stepping away. He was stepping toward her.

Her body reacted before her brain did. Her spine straightened, her pulse spiked again, and for half a second she genuinely considered standing up and fleeing to the restroom like a coward.

Too late.

He reached the edge of the booth. And sat beside her. Close. Not touching, but close enough that the heat of him felt deliberate. Her nostrils flared slightly. He smelled... incredible. Something deep and warm. Spiced. Clean. Masculine without being overpowering. The kind of scent that lingered on pillows and in thoughts. She instinctively held her breath. It didn't help. Because he leaned closer.

"Hello again," he said, lifting his glass to his lips. The corner of his mouth tilted upward in a slow, knowing smile. Then he leaned just enough that his words were meant for her alone. "Happy to see me?"

Her throat felt suddenly dry. "Hello, Derek," Olivia managed, forcing her voice into something resembling calm.

She was not in the right mental state for this. Not tonight. Not when Jack was already a storm in her head. But the way Derek looked at her - like he was studying her, not just seeing her - made something inside her unravel.

"Izzy and Tessa mentioned they were doing some kind of... intervention," he continued lightly. "Are they done? Because I'd like to join in and point out a few things I've observed myself."

Her head snapped toward him. "It's none of your business," she replied, aiming for sharp, but it came out softer than she intended. Damn tequila.

Tessa straightened slightly. "Actually-"

"Tess," Olivia warned, shooting her a look.

Tessa immediately lifted both hands in surrender, though her grin suggested she absolutely would've betrayed her.

Derek laughed. It wasn't mocking. It was amused. "Fine," he said easily. "I won't push."

But he didn't move away. His arm brushed lightly against hers, barely there, but enough to send awareness crackling across her skin.

Again, that scent. That warmth. Her body felt suddenly hyper-aware of everything - the line of his thigh near hers, the subtle flex of his forearm as he adjusted his glass, the way his presence filled the small space without effort.

He was too strong to resist, too solid to ignore or pretend he didn't affect her.

Her mind whispered Jack.

Her body didn't listen.

Screw it, she thought.

If she was going to sit here next to Mr. Ruggedly-Too-Attractive while her relationship hung by a fraying thread, she needed insulation. Numbing. Distance.

Right on cue, the waiter returned with another round of shots. The glasses landed on the table with a soft clink.

Olivia didn't hesitate. She reached for one immediately, fingers wrapping around cool glass and lifted it before anyone could say a word.

If this night was going to spiral...She might as well meet it halfway.