Chapter Two

TRINITY

The week flew by uneventfully, a blur of back-to-back appointments, relentless emails, and endless cups of coffee that did little to revive us. After a full Saturday of open homes, Luke and I collapsed in our living room, limbs heavy, and minds numb. I flopped onto the couch, kicked off my heels with a groan, and reached for the oversized glass of wine I’d poured the second we walked in the door.

“So,” Luke said, dragging the word out dramatically before taking a much-needed sip. “Let’s go out tonight. It’s been way too long since we let loose, and I am one hundred percent in the mood to get my dance on.”

I barely lifted my head from where I’d slumped across the opposite armrest. “I’m mentally exhausted from this week. Do we have to?”

“Yes!” He shot him a look over the rim of his wine glass. “Would you quit acting like we’re a middle-aged couple with five cats?”

That got me. I wrinkled my nose, mock offended. “First of all, we will never be a middle-aged couple—unless you’re referring to Will and Grace in that category—and secondly, it is never just getting a dance on with you. It’s a full night of debauchery.”

His sass was always quick, and always welcome. When he was like this, I knew there was no winning an argument. Still, I held up a finger. “Feeding me first. Non-negotiable.”

“Deal.” He yawned, stretching dramatically. “Go scrub the real estate off you. You’ve got, like, stress all over your aura.”

We parted ways, heading into our respective rooms. I stripped as I walked, pieces of the day falling to the floor behind me like breadcrumbs. The hot water of the shower was a balm against aching muscles, and I let it stream over my back while I leaned into the tiled wall, breathing in the steam-swirled air. The scent of my body wash filled the space, calming my thoughts.

After finally convincing myself to step out, I towel-dried, blow-dried, and added loose waves to my hair with a few flicks of a curling wand. Makeup took a little longer—I layered on a touch more than usual, adding a sultry flick of liner and a richer shade of lipstick. A dusting of bronzer warmed my cheeks, and with one last spritz of finishing spray, I made my way into my walk-in wardrobe.

I stared at the rows of dresses, momentarily stuck in fashion limbo. After far too much internal debate, I settled on one of Luke’s all-time favourites—a sleek, midnight blue number that hugged in all the right places. He always said it “accentuates your assets, babe, and you’ve got plenty of those.” I slipped into it, added a few gold accessories, and grabbed my clutch before stepping out into the lounge.

“Luke, are you nearly ready? Shall I order an Uber?”

His voice echoed from the bathroom. “Yes! I’m just brushing my teeth. Order it now—let’s hit Capulet first.”

Capulet was Luke’s favourite cocktail bar—a stylish spot with velvet banquettes and a moody vibe, perfect for easing into the night. I pulled up the app and ordered the ride, watching its approach on the screen.

“Hurry up, diva!” I shouted, hearing his footsteps thunder down the hallway. He came racing out, still doing up his belt, hair styled to perfection, the scent of his cologne trailing behind him like a promise.

We locked up and headed out into the night, sliding into the Uber and sinking into the seats with a sigh of relief. The city lights blurred past us in streaks of gold and red, a rhythmic hum building in my chest as the anticipation of the night ahead bubbled up.

When we arrived, we thanked the driver, and Luke offered a gallant hand as I stepped out. The outside of Capulet was its usual low-key elegance—black marble and dark-tinted windows that gave away nothing of what buzzed inside.

The second we walked in, the familiar pulse of bass-heavy lounge music wrapped around us. The bar was already bustling. Suits lined the polished counters—business executives ending their week with an obligatory Martini or single malt, college kids clustering near the back, eyes scanning for the next opportunity. And then, of course, the VIP section: cloaked in shadows and mystery, filled with the sort of people you instinctively knew not to make eye contact with. That section didn’t invite curiosity—it warned against it.

We headed toward the bar, elbowing gently through the crowd. After placing our drink orders, we turned, scanning the room.

“Shit,” Luke murmured. “Only open tables are near the VIPs. Guess we’re slumming it with the elites tonight.”

“Fine,” I said, linking my arm through his. “Just don’t start pretending we belong back there.”

“Oh, please. I ~do~ belong back there,” he said, leading us toward the open spot. We slipped into a low table near the velvet rope.

Luke took a long sip of his drink, his eyes already scanning the room for prey. “Just to be clear,” he said, deadpan. “I fully intend to hook up tonight.”

I laughed, tossing my hair over one shoulder. “As if I expected anything less from you, you brazen hussy.”

He grinned. “Girl, if you got it, get it.” His eyes sharpened suddenly. “Agh—babes, don’t turn around. But there is a major hottie eyeing you up. Your nine o’clock. Up in the VIP section.”

I rolled my eyes. “Luke, please. You always say that, and usually ‘major hottie’ turns out to be a middle-aged man with a Peter Pan complex.”

“No. No, no, no,” he hissed, eyes wide. “If this hunk of a man was looking at me like that, I’d already be halfway to naked. I’m serious. Do that trick where you knock your purse off the table and sneak a look.”

“Seriously?” I groaned.

“Just humour me once, woman!”

With a dramatic sigh, I knocked my clutch to the ground. As I leaned over to retrieve it, I tilted my head just enough to scan the crowd.

And there he was.

My heart skipped a beat. Time slowed. Stephen Gotti.

He was lounging in a high-backed leather booth, one arm draped lazily over the back, the other holding a glass of something amber and expensive-looking. A tailored black dress shirt clung to his broad frame like it had been sewn on by sin itself, and ink peeked from the cuffs at his wrists—more than I’d noticed before.

The second our eyes locked, the breath caught in my throat. My body remembered the feel of his hands gripping my hips at Gilhooley’s, the ghost of his cologne lingering on my skin, the way his voice had curled around my name like it belonged to him.

His gaze didn’t waver. Didn’t blink. A slow, knowing smile curved his lips, and then—he winked.

I bolted upright, cheeks flaming. ~Busted.~

I snatched my drink and downed the rest in a single, desperate gulp.

“Is it suddenly hot in here, or is it just me?” I blurted, fidgeting. “Do you need another drink? I need another drink! Let me get us some drinks.”

Before Luke could respond, I shot up—nearly knocking the table over—and weaved through the growing crowd. Only once I’d put a safe distance between myself and those wicked green eyes did I slow down, exhaling shakily. Get it together, Trinity. I gave myself a silent pep talk, palms slightly clammy, as I approached the bar.

I waited in line, the bass thumping in time with the pulse in my throat. When it was finally my turn to order, I opened my mouth to speak—only to feel a firm, confident hand rest on the small of my back. A warm presence leaned into me, the heat of him seeping through my dress.

“Put the drinks on my tab, please, Dylan.”

The voice was low and smooth, like velvet over steel.

I turned, and those unmistakable green eyes met mine again, softer now, but no less arresting. Stephen’s hand remained on my back, the pressure light but sure, like he had every right to be there. His smile was gentle, but his gaze burned.

And suddenly, the entire room felt very, very small.

Mustering what little courage I had left, I turned to face Stephen, who made no effort to remove his hand from the small of my back. His touch wasn’t forceful, but firm—intentional. Possessive in a way that made my skin tingle and my breath catch.

“That’s very nice of you to offer, Stephen, wasn’t it?” I met his eyes, trying to hold my composure. “I’m alright with buying my own drinks, although... the gesture is appreciated.”

A glimmer of amusement danced in his eyes, that slow, deliberate smile curving his lips again. “I’m pleased to see you remembered, Trinity. Believe me, a name like yours—and that beautiful face—is not one I could ever forget.” He leaned in slightly, the heat of his body wrapping around me like smoke. “And the honour is all mine. What were you having?”

His scent—earthy, woodsy, and clean—washed over me in waves, the same hypnotic cologne that had haunted my senses since Gilhooley’s. I inhaled without meaning to, and for a second, forgot he’d asked me a question.

“Right,” I blinked. “Thank you. I’ll take a JD and Coke for my housemate... and a margarita for me, please.”

Stephen turned to the bartender and smoothly added his own drink to the order, thanking him with a polite nod before the man moved away to prepare them.

I opened my mouth to thank Stephen again, but found him even closer now. I hadn’t seen him move, but he was suddenly there—towering, warm, magnetic.

“I’m pleased to hear the man with you is just your housemate,” he said, voice low and honeyed. Then he stepped forward, closing what little space remained between us. Our bodies brushed, chest to chest, and I felt his breath feather across the sensitive skin beneath my ear.

I sucked in a sharp breath, fingers curling around his arm for balance—though if I was being honest, I didn’t want to let go.

“I told you I’d see you again soon,” he murmured, his voice a velvet caress. “What I didn’t realise... was how much more breathtaking you’d be the second time.”

The words set off a ripple of heat that started at the base of my spine and spread outward, flushing every inch of my skin. A tingle buzzed in my core, uninvited and all-consuming.

“That’s... very sweet of you to say.” My voice came out softer than I intended, laced with something I hadn’t meant to show. “I must admit, you’re looking quite handsome yourself—although I’m sure you already knew that, given you caught me blatantly staring.”

His eyes sparked with satisfaction, his mouth curling into a wicked smile. Then, as if drawn by instinct, his gaze flicked down to my lips. I saw the way they parted ever so slightly. I felt the shift in his body, his hand tightening where it still rested against the sheer fabric of my dress, as though resisting the urge to pull me closer.

“If I may be so bold,” he began, voice dipping into that husky register again, “and hopefully not too intrusive—would you and your housemate like to join us? I’d like to spend more time getting to know you.”

There was a tension in his tone now, subtle but clear—like this wasn’t a casual invitation. He ~wanted~ this moment. Me.

Letting out a measured breath, I nodded. “Let me check with Luke... but I think I’d like that too.”

At my words, the hand on my back pulled me in. It wasn’t aggressive—just... sure. Like he already knew the answer would be yes. And surprisingly, I didn’t mind. The confidence that would normally raise red flags just added to the inexplicable pull I felt toward him.

The bartender returned with our drinks, placing them down with a polite nod. I murmured my thanks, and Stephen passed me mine and Luke’s, his fingers lingering a second too long as they brushed mine.

I turned and began weaving back through the crowd, acutely aware of Stephen walking just behind me—his hand still lightly pressed to my back like a brand. Protective. Warning. Claiming.

As we approached the table, I spotted Luke, deep in animated conversation with one of our sales associates from work. They were laughing about something, clearly unaware of the sudden shift in my evening.

“Babes, you’re back—finally,” Luke said, reaching for the drink I placed in front of him. His eyes lifted... and widened. “Ohhh. Who is this hunk of a man you’ve brought with you?”

I laughed, stepping aside so Stephen could join us. “Luke, this is Stephen. We met earlier in the week at Gilhooley’s while I was waiting for you.”

Luke extended a perfectly manicured hand. “Well, Stephen, very pleased to meet you. I’m Luke—the housemate and, more importantly, the over-the-top best friend.”

Stephen grinned as he shook his hand, his demeanor polite but effortlessly commanding. “Pleasure’s all mine, Luke.”

“And Stephen, this is Matt,” I added, gesturing to the third member of the table. “Matt works with both of us in the sales department.”

Matt leaned forward with a smile of recognition. “We’ve actually met—last year. I sold Stephen a property in Bunya Pine.”

Stephen’s expression lit with genuine recollection. “Of course. Nice to see you again, Matt.”

He then turned back to the group, his voice casual but purposeful. “I’ve invited Trinity to join me and a few of my associates up in the booth. You’re both more than welcome to join.”

Luke didn’t even hesitate. “You don’t have to ask me twice. Let’s do this.”

We all stood, collecting our drinks. As we began walking toward the VIP section, Stephen’s hand found mine—slipping into it with a familiarity that made my heart stutter. His fingers were warm, strong, confident.

Luke nudged me as we walked, catching my eye with a mischievous grin. When I looked back, both he and Matt were smirking like smug little devils.

I rolled my eyes.

Luke mouthed two words as clearly as if he’d spoken them aloud.

Get. It.