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His voice slices through the tense air, drawing a few sharp inhales from the table.

Gripping my thigh with force, my fiancée lets out a fake laugh.

“Babes,” Ser mocks Ella and Samantha, sugarcoating the words with poison, “you’re so sweet, but it’s okay. We’ve had an on-and-off relationship since we were teenagers. He had his fun, and I had mine while we were on breaks.”

What the fuck?

I grit my teeth, but something tightens in my chest at that thought, heat rising under my collar.

“We recently decided we want to be serious and no fuck around anymore.”

Smirking maliciously, she brings her hand to my face and cups my jaw. Her palm is warm, her nails gentle against my skin.

“I don’t blame you for being desperate. I mean, look at him—the man is handsome. But he’s all mine now. Sorry, babe.” Then she leans in and whispers, “I have no choice,” before crashing her lips to mine.

The world tilts. Her kiss is demanding, claiming, fierce. My heart punches against my ribs.

But before I can deepen it, she pulls back with a triumphant glint in her eyes and throws a wink at Ella.

“Fuck, man. I like her. She’s like the woman version of you,” Chase chuckles beside me, low enough for only me to hear.

God, I hope not.

I don’t want to be forced to kill a hell of a lot of men.

This is the first time I regret my past.

Don’t get me wrong, I enjoyed most of it. Except for Samantha. That one night is a black hole in my memory I wish I could erase.

I wouldn’t have touched her if I hadn’t been so drunk. And I hate that I did. The fact that I don’t remember anything is both a blessing and a curse. I spent weeks trying to figure out if anything actually happened between us.

Now, with Sierra sitting beside me, looking like sin in heels and a dress that hugs every inch of her, I wish I could erase every woman from my past. They were a distraction. A mistake. And I know Sierra's affected by it.

“Baby, would you like to dance with me?” This is the only plan I have to lighten the mood and distract her from overthinking.

She nods, flashing me a fake smile that twists something deep in my chest. I hate that I put her in this situation, that she had to hear about me fucking another woman, that she has to share a table with her.

As we reach the dance floor of this spectacular ballroom, I turn to face her and she places her hand on top of mine. I pull her against me and we start to dance, perfectly in sync.

This is a really bad idea, because her body grinding against mine does nothing to calm my desire for her. In fact, I’m so hard it hurts.

The low, golden lights cast a warm glow across the tiles, and the slow music wraps around us like silk. It’s the most romantic scene. Too romantic for how tense we’re inside.

“You need to stop moving so sensually, Ser,” I whisper, trying to create some distance between us.

But she keeps me in place and asks, “Why? Because you won’t be able to leave this party with a woman on your arm to fuck?”

I lean back just enough to meet her eyes. “I’ll be leaving this party with a woman on my arm,” I growl.

“Yeah. One you can’t fuck,” she says through gritted teeth.

Is she jealous? Hurt? I can’t read her like I used to.

I say nothing. I just look at her for a few moments, then pull her back into my arms.

We start to move again, dancing around the floor, our bodies pressed together, swaying like they’ve known each other forever.

ELEVEN