The Club
1145 Words
Elena frowned, pulled out her phone, and dialed the number on the matte-black card.
No answer.
She hailed a cab and headed straight to the address—a private members-only club in SoHo that catered to Manhattan’s elite.
The moment she stepped inside, the air hit her with a wave of expensive perfume and bass-heavy DJ beats thumping from the first-floor bar.
Following the private booth number she’d overheard from mutual contacts, Elena moved along the dimly lit corridor. The music faded, replaced by laughter and crude banter spilling from a half-open door.
“Ethan, man, you serious? You’ve been engaged for months and still haven’t closed the deal?”
“Yeah, we’re all dying to know—was she really kept by some sugar daddy back in college, or is that just rumor?”
Ethan Cole laughed lazily. “Elena Brooks? Face like a supermodel, personality like a block of ice. Once I’m bored, I’ll dump her.”
BAM!
The door flew open under the force of a sharp heel kick.
A tall, slender woman stood framed in the doorway, expression arctic.
The room went dead silent.
Elena strode in on black stilettos and stopped directly in front of Ethan, voice clipped.
“Money.”
Ethan lounged on the leather sofa, a woman draped over him like an accessory.
“Elena, come on—we’re engaged. Is money the only thing you ever open your mouth for?”
He glanced at the crowd, arms spread along the back of the sofa, smirking. “It’s not a big deal. I’ll just mention it to my uncle.”
“Here’s the offer: kiss me—right here, in front of everyone—and I’ll ask Uncle Lucas to go easy on you.”
The room erupted.
“Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!”
Ethan’s grin widened, reveling in it—watching the once-unreachable ice princess lean toward him.
A cold voice brushed his ear.
“Kiss your mother.”
His smile froze. He lunged to grab her, intent on forcing it.
BAM!
The door slammed open again—this time with far more violence.
Every head snapped toward the entrance.
A tall, broad-shouldered figure filled the frame, backlit by the corridor lights, features sharp but expression unreadable.
His voice was low, dangerously calm.
“Am I interrupting?”
From the doorway’s angle, it looked like Elena was bent over Ethan, lips inches from his cheek—while Ethan wore a smug, blissful expression.
Elena straightened instantly. Gasps rippled through the room.
“Holy s**t—Ethan actually got Mr. Bennett to show up!”
Ethan rose, triumphant. “Not interrupting at all, Uncle Lucas. Perfect timing. Elena and I were just… playing a little game.”
“She owes you one point four nine million, right? I told her: one kiss and I’ll put in a good word. If she refuses—well, don’t go easy on her.”
Lucas’s gaze slid slowly from Elena to Ethan. He adjusted his cufflinks with deliberate calm.
“Put in a good word for her?”
Ethan puffed up, nodding. “Yea—”
His answer turned into a yelp as Lucas’s fist connected with his face.
The impact sent Ethan crashing into a pile of empty bottles. Glass shattered; shards sliced into skin.
The crowd stumbled back in shock.
No one had expected Lucas Bennett to deck his own nephew—over Elena.
Before anyone could process it, Lucas hauled a bleeding Ethan up by the collar and delivered another brutal punch.
Ethan hit the floor hard.
Lucas looked down at him, voice dripping disdain.
“You think you’re worthy?”
He flexed his knuckles slowly, scanning the room. Everyone averted their eyes.
People still remembered the old rumors: before leaving for London, Lucas had been Manhattan’s most notorious trust-fund hellraiser.
Clearly, nothing had changed.
He seized Elena’s wrist and pulled her toward the exit.
“Hey—”
She stumbled after him, his grip iron-tight, impossible to shake.
Curious onlookers in the hallway whispered.
“Isn’t that Lucas Bennett? Why is he dragging his nephew’s fiancée?”
In the empty emergency stairwell, Elena found her back pressed against the door, wrist still locked in his hand.
His thumb rested over her pulse—controlling it, making it race.
Faster.
Elena shoved at his chest. “Let go—you’re hurting me!”
The pressure eased, but he didn’t release her. Instead, his large palm slid up, pinning her hand to the door, long fingers threading firmly through hers.
His voice came out rough.
“Still hurt?”
Elena struggled, but every inch she gained, he took back.
He crowded closer, tone growing darker.
“Where did he touch you?”
“If I hadn’t shown up, were you actually going to kiss him?”
“When are you dumping him?”
Her ears rang. Without thinking, she drove her knee upward.
Lucas let out a muffled grunt—yet there was no anger on his face. He tipped his head back and laughed, low and dangerously seductive.
“That’s my girl. Still got fire.”
Elena ground her teeth. “Do you have any idea how that looked back there?”
He shrugged. “Misunderstanding what? Our relationship was never exactly clean, was it?”
She shot back, “There is no relationship. We broke up. Three years ago.”
No matter how much she argued, Lucas gave her four simple words.
“I never agreed.”
Elena stood her ground. “Breakups don’t require mutual consent—just notification. And we were never public anyway.”
Only a handful of people had ever known they’d dated. As long as no one talked, who would remember?
Lucas let out a soft, incredulous laugh.
“So I let you sleep with me for nothing?”
The reason they’d kept it secret back then? Because Elena hadn’t wanted the spotlight.
She pressed her lips together. They’d both gotten what they wanted—who was the victim here?
“You called me your ex-girlfriend yourself last night. Ex.”
The petty remark she’d clung to.
Lucas rubbed his temple, half-amused, half-frustrated.
“Need money, right? One point four nine million. A kiss is a kiss.”
He leaned in until his breath scorched her ear.
“Kiss me. I taste better.”
Elena hissed, “Shameless.”
Lucas didn’t miss a beat.
“Then kiss me on the mouth.”
“…”
She turned her face away. He caught her chin, forcing her back.
Her defiant gaze dropped—and landed on the back of his right hand.
On each knuckle, a single simple word was tattooed in black ink.
She didn’t have time to read them all before his grip tightened, pulling her attention back.
His tone turned commanding.
“No kiss? Fine.”
“End it with him.”
- Writer
