It had only been a week since I met Denzel Wilson, yet already he haunted every thought, every breath I took. It was maddening—how someone could be so absent yet feel so close, like a shadow stitched to my skin.
He was out of the country on a business trip. No calls, no texts. Just silence. Because that was the rule—he calls me, not the other way around. I agreed to this, I reminded myself. I chose him. I chose this.
Still, I missed him. Missed the weight of his gaze, the authority in his voice, the way his touch made my whole body come undone.
Trying to distract myself, I went shopping. Not for groceries or shoes—today was different. Today I was buying lingerie. I didn't own a single pair worth showing off, and with the sleek black card he gave me, I finally had no excuse.
As I stood in front of a row of delicate lace sets—red, black, white, wine—my fingers brushed over a black one, seductive and elegant.
"That one will fit you perfectly."
I turned and met the eyes of a tall, confident woman with sharp cheekbones and hair pulled into a high, clean ponytail. She wore denim and a leather jacket like they were made for her.
I smiled. "This is my first time buying these. I honestly don't know which one to choose."
She chuckled. "Black is always safe. But red? Red makes a statement. You should grab both. Match them with your man's favorite color."
"Noted." I laughed and held up the black and red ones.
"I'm Star Jones, by the way."
"Jase Michael." She extended her hand, and I shook it.
Her grip was firm. Confident. We laughed again, like old friends who'd just remembered each other.
"You should let me take you out sometime," she said. "Coffee, drinks, whatever."
"I'm not much of a coffee girl. But clubs… I might be into that."
"Then it's settled. Red Feathers tonight. I'll send a car."
We exchanged numbers, and she winked before walking away with the kind of effortless sway that made people turn. I held onto the pink set before heading to pay.
Back at home, I couldn't help but smile as I prepared. Tonight, I would dance. Drink. Maybe forget Denzel just long enough to breathe.
I texted Zoey.
Me:Red Feathers tonight. You in?
She answered almost immediately.
Zoey:Bitch, I thought you'd never ask.
She was the kind of friend I'd known too long to fully let go of, even after she'd slept with my ex, Kevin. Our friendship was scarred but still standing, like an old tree that refused to fall.
An hour later, I was dressed—short black dress, long legs, high heels, and confidence. I looked good. Rich-girl-era good. I posted a few shots on my story and waited.
"Star, your friends are here!" my mom called.
I kissed her goodbye, then strutted out to find Zoey and her cousin Tyler waiting by the car.
"Bitch, you look hot!" Zoey screamed, and I grinned.
"I know."
Tyler drove. She had a stable job managing a supermarket, the sensible one in our trio. Zoey worked as a receptionist, wild and unpredictable. Me? I was the girl caught in something deeper than any of them knew.
As we drove, I turned to them. "Hey, I forgot to tell you. A friend is joining us tonight. Her name's Jase. Met her today."
"A girl?" Tyler asked.
"Yeah. Chill, you'll like her."
"Fine, just don't make it weird," Zoey joked.
Red Feathers was packed. Lights flashing, bass pounding, perfume and alcohol mixing in the air. We walked in like we owned the place. I led the way to VIP.
"Drinks on me tonight," I said, flashing Denzel's card like a trophy. Their jaws dropped.
"Damn, who even are you?" Zoey said, half-laughing.
We ordered cocktails, easing into the night. Jase arrived not long after, clad in a slinky red dress, her presence commanding. I introduced her, and just like that, she was part of the pack.
We danced. We laughed. For a moment, I forgot the rules. Forgot the weight of Denzel's silence.
Then my favorite song came on, and I couldn't resist. I hit the dance floor, moving like the rhythm had taken over my bones. I was alive, sexy, free. Until I felt a pair of hands on my waist.
I turned. Kevin.
"What the hell?"
"Come on, Star. Don't act like you don't know me."
He smelled like whiskey and bad decisions. I tried to step away, but he tightened his grip.
"Let me go."
"One night, that's all I'm asking."
"You're disgusting."
"I know you still love me."
"Let her go," a voice snapped from behind us.
I turned to find a broad-shouldered man in a sharp black suit glaring at Kevin. A bodyguard, maybe.
Kevin smirked. "So this is your type now? Rich lapdogs?"
The punch came so fast I barely registered it. Kevin stumbled back, clutching his jaw.
The man turned to me. "Mr. Wilson sent me to get you."
The music faded behind the pounding in my chest.
I nodded and followed him out, sparing one glance back at the life I was leaving behind for the night.
"I need to settle the bill—"
"It's already been paid."
He said it flatly, like I disgusted him. Like I wasn't worth the air around us. I didn't argue.
Outside, a sleek black car waited. I stepped in, heart thudding.
The ride was quiet. Tense. I didn't know what I'd find at the end of it.
But the moment I stepped out of the car and saw him, I knew.
Denzel.
He stood by the glass windows of his penthouse, hands in his pockets, his back straight, rigid. The second the door clicked shut behind me, he turned.
His face was carved from ice. His eyes were burning.
"Take a seat," he said coldly.
"Denzel, I—"
"Sit."
I sat.
He paced once, then stopped and stared down at me like I was something he couldn't quite believe.
"You think you can party half-naked and let men touch you, and I won't find out?"
"It wasn't like that—"
"Don't lie to me."
"I didn't plan it. He showed up—my ex. I tried to get away."
"And yet you posted pictures for the world to see. For me to see. Is this what I left you for? Is this who you are when I'm not watching?"
Tears stung my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. "I didn't mean to hurt you."
His jaw clenched. "You broke the rules."
"I just needed to feel… something. You were gone. I missed you."
He stared at me in silence. For a moment, I thought I saw the fire flicker into something softer. But then he turned away.
"I need time."
"Denzel—"
"I said I need time, Star."
And with that, he walked out of the room, leaving me with nothing but my shame and the ache of my own making.