Sasha smirked, swirling her blood-red wine. “Let me guess. Wesley, the eternal disaster, or Raphael, the one that got away?”
Riana groaned. “Both. I’m being haunted by my own bad decisions.”
“Both?” Carlita gasped theatrically.
The bass in The Mystic club was a living thing. It thrummed through the floor, pulsed in the walls, and wrapped around Riana like a heartbeat gone wild. She wasn’t usually one for wild nights but tonight wasn’t usual.
“Tonight, is my night” Tonight, she wasn’t going to cry, mope, or think about Wesley’s cold stare or Raphael’s young fiancée’s sugar-coated voice clinging on him like a magnet.
No. Tonight, she was going to forget.
Her two best friends had already claimed a VIP booth when Riana arrived, late and brooding.
Carlita took one look at
