Steve and Ivy walked hand in hand back to Ivy’s house, the quiet suburban street bathed in a soft glow from lampposts. Ivy squeezed Steve’s hand tighter.
"You’re awfully quiet tonight," Steve murmured, bumping his shoulder gently against hers in that boyish way of his. He was sweet, always there when she needed him.
"Just tired." Ivy forced a smile.
Steve kissed the back of her hand tenderly. "Well, you deserve some rest. You’ve been working so hard. I’m proud of you, Ivy."
"I forgot to tell you, was so wrapped up in our date." They stood just outside her house.
"I have an interview with Trinity Estates on Monday. A friend assures me it is a done deal." His eyes lit up as he said it, his chest puffing slightly with pride. Discover more novels at NovєlFіre.net
"Oh my God! That’s great news!" Ivy squealed, genuine joy spilling through her voice. She threw her arms around him, hugging him tight. For a moment she forgot her exhaustion and her double life. "Finally. I am so happy for you."
"If I get the job maybe I can get you something more permanent there." He held her shoulders as he spoke.
Steve had always been like that—dreaming not just for himself, but for her too, weaving futures where she was safe, where she didn’t have to dance under a mask at Commissioned or fight for scraps of opportunity.
But reality cut through her smile. "No, Steve. I can’t get a job in a place like that permanently, you know that. Dropping out of college really messed up my chances. I’ll go back to the café as soon as my temp is done with House of Kane."
"Always have faith, Sweetie." Steve tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, his eyes shining with belief she wished she could mirror. "I’m going to get going."
He leaned in and kissed her lips gently, a sweet brush at first, testing her response. Then, emboldened, he deepened it, pressing closer, his hands sliding to her waist.
His tongue coaxed her lips apart, his grip tightening with a hunger he had been holding back for far too long.
Moments later, Ivy pulled back from Steve’s kiss, her breath unsteady. "Let me know how it goes on Monday."
"Yeah, I will." Steve tucked his hands into his pockets, rocking on his heels. "You’re going to see your mum tomorrow?"
"Yes. I’ll probably spend the whole day with her, help around in the centre." Ivy shifted her bag on her shoulder.
"Alright then, good night."
Steve nodded with a smile. "Love you too, sweetie." He turned and walked away, his tall figure fading into the dim streetlight glow.
Ivy stood at the curb long after his footsteps had disappeared, staring into the dark. She hugged her arms around herself as the night breeze slipped through her thin cardigan. Finally, she dug into her bag for her keys.
Then, the lights of a car flared across her vision, making her squint as she raised her hand to shield her face. The outline of the vehicle came into focus. A black Maybach. Her boss’s car. She froze, her heart leaping and sinking at once. On a Saturday?
What the hell could be so urgent it couldn’t wait until Monday?
The door opened smoothly, and Winn Kane stepped out. Even under the streetlight, his presence unsettled her balance, made the air feel charged. Ivy’s mouth went dry as he strode toward her.
"Mr Kane? What are you doing here?"
Winn’s gaze locked on hers. "I need your help," he said simply. "I didn’t have anyone to reach out to."
"Oh... okay... What can I do?" Ivy asked, caught between confusion and the steady thrum of nerves in her belly. Her hand curled around her keyring bracing herself for whatever came next.
Winn turned, walked back toward his Maybach, and popped the trunk. Ivy leaned slightly forward, curiosity pricking her spine. Inside were several heavy crates, neat rows of wine bottles glinting under the dim streetlight, their labels screaming wealth and exclusivity.
"I don’t understand," Ivy said honestly, her brows furrowing.
"I needed to get rid of these tonight," Winn replied flatly. He hesitated, then added, "I have a... uh, guest who cannot be around alcohol."
"Oh... oh I get it. You want to keep them here?" Ivy glanced from the boxes to his unreadable expression.
"You can do whatever you want with them." Maybe share them with the rest of your dancer friends at Commissioned, he thought but didn’t say aloud.
"What... Mr. Kane, these are expensive bottles." Ivy’s hand brushed over one of the labels, instantly recognizing the imported brand she’d once seen listed at $800 in Commissioned bar. Her pulse spiked.
"You would know, wouldn’t you." The accusation slipped out before he could stop himself.
"Wha..." Ivy blinked, frowning, but instead of catching the insult, she merely tilted her head, puzzled. "Are you sure about this?" Her innocence was maddening, or maybe it was her refusal to rise to the bait.
"I don’t have all night, Ivy."
"Okay," she murmured. "I’ll just get them inside." She turned toward her door, her fingers fumbling slightly with the keys.
"I’ll do it. They’re quite heavy."
Ivy stepped aside, her shoulder brushing against his arm as he moved past her. Who knew he could be this... gallant? She moved ahead, twisting the lock, then pushed the door open and flicked on the light.
Winn carried in the boxes one after another, his broad shoulders flexing under the lines of his shirt. The sight unsettled Ivy—he didn’t belong here, yet somehow he dominated the space instantly.
When he set the final box down, he straightened, his chest rising with controlled breaths, and his dark eyes swept across her living room before finally settling on her.
"You live by yourself?" Winn asked.
"Yes." Ivy answered quickly, shuffling awkwardly on her feet. She tugged at the hem of her cardigan, trying not to feel exposed under his penetrating gaze. "My dad used to have a mini bar."
(Keep the comments coming, people. I like it)