(Ella's POV)
The city skyline stretched out before me, bathed in the deep hues of twilight as I pulled into my driveway. The engine of my sleek black Mercedes purred to a stop, and for a moment, I just sat there, gripping the steering wheel. Zack's voice still lingered in my mind—smooth, teasing, effortlessly charming.
"Come out with me tonight, El. You need it. I need it."
I exhaled sharply. I should've said no. I should've buried myself in work, let the weight of exhaustion drown out the emotions that clawed at my chest. But how could I? How could I say no to the only person who ever made me feel like I wasn't invisible?
With reluctant excitement simmering beneath my skin, I stepped out of the car and walked into my penthouse apartment. The moment the door clicked shut behind me, I stripped off my blazer and heels, stretching out my sore muscles. The place was eerily silent, the way I liked it.
I made my way to my bedroom, flicking on the warm lights. The massive floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the city, a reminder of how far I'd come from the broken girl I used to be. But tonight, I wasn't going to think about that. I am 26 and I have a lot to show for that. I mean I literally built my company from scratch.
I strode to my walk-in closet, scanning the endless racks of dresses, contemplating what to wear. Something sexy. Not for him. For me.
My fingers brushed against a black silk slip dress, the fabric sinfully soft. It clung to every curve, accentuating my figure in ways that should be illegal. The thigh-high slit made my long legs look even more tempting, and when I paired it with red-bottom stilettos, I knew heads would turn tonight.
Would Zack notice?
I scoffed at my own thoughts. Of course not. Zack noticed every woman except the one who had been by his side for years.
With a final spritz of perfume—something dark and sweet—I grabbed my purse, slid into my car, and drove to The Luxe.
The drive wasn't that long and I got there in no time.
Stepping out of my car, I handed my keys to the valet and strutted inside, the click of my heels lost in the sultry jazz playing through the speakers.
The Luxe was a different world at night.
From the outside, it was an unassuming building—sleek black stone with golden accents, the name glowing in bold cursive neon above the glass doors. But inside? Inside, it was a playground for the elite.
The moment I stepped in, the scent of expensive cologne, liquor, and warm leather filled my lungs. The low hum of deep bass thrummed beneath my feet, vibrating through the glossy marble floors. Golden chandeliers hung from the ceiling, casting soft, intimate lighting over the dark mahogany furniture, plush velvet booths, and a long bar lined with crystal decanters of top-shelf whiskey and champagne.
This wasn't some cheap bar. It was luxury, indulgence, power—the kind of place where people made deals with a handshake and a smirk, where secrets were whispered between sips of aged bourbon.
And Zack?
Zack fit into it perfectly.
He was already at the bar, a glass of whiskey in hand, his long fingers lazily swirling the amber liquid. He looked completely at ease, the kind of man who owned every room he stepped into—and he knew it.
His suit was jet black, tailored to perfection, hugging his lean but muscular frame. The top two buttons of his dress shirt were undone, teasing a glimpse of the sharp angles of his collarbones and the smooth expanse of skin beneath. His dark hair was styled effortlessly, slightly tousled like he had just run his fingers through it, and his jawline—God, his jawline—was sharp enough to cut glass.
But it was his eyes that got me.
That shade of stormy blue that had haunted me since childhood, filled with a kind of mischief that made my stomach tighten.
And then there was his smirk—that lazy, knowing curve of his lips that had always made my heart do stupid things.
My childhood love.
My greatest weakness.
I swallowed hard, forcing myself to breathe, because tonight, I was just his friend.
I had dressed to feel good, not for him—or at least that's what I kept telling myself. I looked like I belonged here.
Like I wasn't still that broken girl who grew up with nothing.
Like I wasn't still pathetically in love with my best friend.
I approached the bar, and Zack's eyes immediately slid over me, slow and deliberate, like he was savoring every inch.
Something in his gaze darkened, but it was gone as fast as it came, replaced by his signature lazy grin.
"Damn, sweetheart," he drawled, tilting his head. "Are you trying to kill me?"
I rolled my eyes, ignoring the way my stomach tightened at his words. "Flirting with me already?"
He chuckled, taking a sip of his drink. "When have I ever stopped?"
Always.
He had always flirted with me.
But not in the way I wanted.
Not in the way that made me his.
I swallowed, forcing a nonchalant smile. "And You're already drinking without me?"
He chuckled, gesturing to the bartender. "I had to warm up. You know how long you take to get ready."
I rolled my eyes, sliding onto the stool beside him, crossing my legs in a way that made his gaze flick downward for half a second. Did I imagine that?
The bartender turned to me with a knowing look. "The usual?"
I nodded, but before he could pour, Zack leaned in, his breath warm against my ear. "Not tonight."
I stiffened as he signaled to the bartender. "Something sweeter for her," he murmured, smirking. "She needs to loosen up."
Heat crept up my neck. "I don't need you ordering for me."
"You don't need a lot of things," he teased, swirling his whiskey glass before taking a sip, "but you let me do them anyway."
Damn him.
The bartender slid me a berry-infused cocktail, vibrant and alluring, just like the way Zack was looking at me.
"You look incredible, by the way," he added casually this time, as if it was just an afterthought.
My heart clenched. If only he knew what those words did to me. If only he meant them the way I wished he did.
I took a slow sip, letting the cold liquid soothe my nerves. "Trying to get me drunk, Zack?"
He laughed, tilting his head as if considering. "Maybe. Or maybe I just like seeing you enjoy yourself for once."
I arched a brow. "And what makes you think I don't?"
His gaze softened, just for a second. "Because I know you, El."
A lump formed in my throat. No, Zack. You don't know me at all.
Because if he did, he'd know how much I loved him. How much it killed me to watch him fall for every woman except me.
"Enough of this." I forced a smirk, pushing back the emotions clawing at my chest. "Tell me, what poor girl have you broken this time?"
He chuckled, shaking his head. "You make me sound like a villain."
I leaned in slightly, lowering my voice. "Aren't you?"
His lips quirked into a sinful smirk. "You tell me."
Damn him again.
I could feel my control slipping, could feel the way my heart betrayed me every time he so much as looked at me. This was dangerous. This was self-destruction wrapped in a gorgeous man who would never be mine.
And yet, I couldn't walk away.
So, I took the last sip, let myself drown in his presence for just one more night, pretending that maybe—just maybe—he'd finally see me.
Zack leaned in slightly, his cologne—a mix of woodsy spice and something uniquely him—wrapping around me.
"So," he murmured, resting his elbow on the bar, "what's got you in such a mood?"
I frowned. "What?"
"That look," he said, swirling his whiskey. "You're thinking too hard. I don't like it."
I huffed out a laugh. "Oh? And what exactly am I supposed to think about?"
He grinned. "Me, obviously."
God, he made it so easy to fall for him.
I smirked, masking the way my heart ached. "I think about you enough, don't you think?"
His brows lifted slightly, something unreadable flickering in his eyes, but before he could say anything, my second drink arrived.
I had been in love with Zack since I was sixteen.
I had fallen hard, with no way to stop it, no way to protect myself.
But Zack?
Zack had never seen me that way.
He flirted. He teased. He charmed his way into my life and never left.
But he had never wanted me.
And it was killing me.
Every time I saw him with another woman—every time he whispered things into their ears, kissed them, took them home—I felt sick.
And yet, I stayed.
Because he was my best friend, and I would rather have him this way than not have him at all.
But tonight… tonight, I was weak.
Maybe it was the way his eyes lingered on me longer than usual. Maybe it was the way his hand brushed against mine when he reached for his drink.
Maybe it was the way he felt like mine, even though he never was.
I took a sip of my drink, letting the burn of alcohol distract me.
"Tell me something real," I murmured, tilting my head at him.
He quirked a brow. "Something real?"
I nodded. "No jokes. No flirting. Just… something real."
For a moment, something shifted in his expression—something softer, almost vulnerable.
Then, just as quickly, it was gone.
"I'm glad you came tonight," he said simply.
And that was Zack—never too deep, never too serious, always keeping the walls up just enough.
I smiled, pretending that didn't hurt.
"I'm glad I came too," I whispered.
Even though I shouldn't be.
Even though loving him was going to destroy me.