Lost in the Crowd

POV Cassio.

The rhythmic bass from the main floor vibrated through the floorboards of my private office. I leaned back in my chair, staring at the ceiling with a glass of bourbon in hand. Tessa had refused my burner phone. She had cut off all communication, leaving me chasing a ghost. The frustration gnawed at my bones, driving away any chance of sleep this late into Saturday night. I came down to Club Obsidian just to check on the new DJ playing the main stage. The venue was packed wall-to-wall. It was a fantastic night for the business ledgers, but a logistical nightmare for my security team. If the fire marshal decided to run a surprise inspection tonight, he would shut us down on the spot.

I set my glass aside and shifted my focus to the bank of monitors. The screens broadcasted live camera feeds from every angle of the club floor. I scanned the dense, drunken crowd, watching the neon strobe lights wash over the sea of sweating bodies. My gaze snagged on a flash of blonde hair near the edge of the VIP section. I sat forward in my seat. I zoomed the camera in on the cluster of young women. It was like I knew her, but the shifting lighting made it hard to be certain. A friend leaned close, whispering something into the blonde’s ear.

The girl flinched. She bolted, sprinting for the front exit like she was running for her life.

She weaved through the mass of bodies, shoving people aside. Just before she reached the heavy double doors, a random guy lunged forward. He locked his hand around her arm. She spun around to confront him, and the club lights hit her face.

Tessa.

I slammed my palms onto the mahogany desk. I sprang from my chair, threw my door open, and hit the stairs. I needed to catch her. I pushed onto the dance floor, but the crush of bodies formed a solid wall. I shoved shoulders aside, fighting my way through the maze of oblivious patrons and spilled drinks. The bass drowned out everything else. By the time I shoved past my bouncers and burst out onto the humid Las Vegas street, the sidewalk was empty.

TJ, one of my bodyguards, stood near the velvet ropes.

"Can I help you, boss?" he asked.

I looked around the dark street, my chest heaving. "Did you... Never mind, TJ. All good."

I cursed under my breath, dragging a hand through my hair. I pulled out my phone and dialed Dane. "Bring the armored G-Wagon around to the front. We are heading home."

The drive back was silent. I stared out the tinted passenger window the entire way, my eyes scanning the neon-lit sidewalks on the off chance I might spot her walking in the dark. Once inside the quiet expanse of my house, I went straight to my study. I dropped into my chair and brought up my weekly calendar on the monitor. Tuesday evening glared back at me in red letters. A stuffy, black-tie welcome-back party. I dreaded the social obligation. I had zero desire to stand around in a tuxedo, making fake small talk.

My mind kept drifting back to the girl running out of my club. I brought up Friday's schedule and began clearing every single appointment and meeting. Nothing else mattered. I planned to stand watch at the BDSM club this coming weekend. I needed to search for her again. I would not stop looking. The memory of her skin, her scent, and the way she surrendered to me haunted my every thought. I wanted her back in my bed so badly my teeth ached.

POV Valerie.

The alarm blared in the pitch-black bedroom. Four in the morning. I slapped the snooze button, groaning as the harsh reality of Monday set in. Exhaustion weighed my limbs down after a brutal weekend, but a small business could not run without its owner.

I dragged myself out of bed, threw my hair into a messy bun, and drove through the dark, quiet streets of the city. I pushed through the back door of my bakery. The sweet scent of baking sugar already filled the kitchen air. Martha was at the metal prep counters, mixing the first batch of vanilla cupcakes for the morning rush. She was in her fifties, acting more like a surrogate mother to me than an employee. After her husband divorced her and left her with no income, I offered her a job on the spot. She remained a loyal employee ever since. She handled all the vanilla variations while my specialty remained the rich chocolate recipes.

"Morning, Martha." I grabbed my apron from the hook.

She slid a steaming mug across the stainless steel surface. "Morning, Val. Here is your coffee. How was your weekend?"

I took a long sip, savoring the caffeine kick. "Exhausting."

Martha poured batter into the baking tins. "You are young. You need to be out having fun, not just working yourself to the bone."

I snorted, whisking cocoa powder into a large mixing bowl. "I wish. My Sunday lunch was terrible. Things actually got worse with my dad. I have to go to a party with him on Tuesday night. A welcome home party for one of his old business friends."

Martha paused her scooping. "If it is his friend, why on earth do you have to tag along?"

I gripped the edge of the counter. "Apparently it is a black-tie event. You know my dad. He hates showing up to these things alone. It is all about saving face and projecting the perfect family image. Rich people cannot throw a simple party without mandating a tuxedo."

"That hardly seems fair to you, dear." Martha returned to her work.

"I just have to do it. My father does not see it as an imposition."

We fell into a comfortable silence. For the next few hours, we baked batch after batch in the early hours, filling the display cases with fresh pastries. At nine o'clock, I took off my flour-covered apron and unlocked the front doors to the public.

By ten o'clock, the morning rush was steady. The line stretched toward the door, filled with regulars seeking their daily sugar and caffeine fix. I wiped my hands and stepped up to the register. "Next, please."

My breath hitched. I froze behind the register, staring straight into the cold eyes of my ex-boyfriend.

Trent leaned against the counter. "Morning, Val. We need to talk."

"No, I don't think so." I kept my tone clipped.

"Come on, Val. Just give me a few minutes of your time." he pressed.

I turned my head toward the back room. "Martha, Trent is here. Can you take over watching the front counter for a moment?"

"You got it. If he starts trouble, I am kicking him out." Martha warned loud enough for Trent to hear.

"Don't worry, I will handle him myself."

I walked out from behind the counter and pointed to a small table near the window. I sat down across from him, crossing my arms over my chest. "I am listening."

Trent leaned forward with a smug smirk. "I am sorry, okay? I want you back."

"I don't think so, Trent. You only ever used me for my money. You admitted it yourself. Now, if you will please just leave my shop."

His smirk vanished. The rejection struck his fragile pride, and his demeanor shifted into something vicious. He leaned closer, his eyes narrowing. "You still into freaky sex?"

Heat flared in my cheeks. He was weaponizing the single time I had asked him to slap my ass during sex, twisting it to shame me in public.

I hissed, my throat tightening. "Get out."

He maintained a cruel twist to his lips. "You know you are not going to get anyone better than me out there. No real man would want you. Let us be honest, Val. If it wasn't for your dad's bank account, I wouldn't want you either."

Shock paralyzed me. The breath was knocked from my lungs. I sat frozen in my chair, unable to form a single word to defend myself against the verbal assault. He had plunged a knife into my deepest insecurities.

Martha stopped right beside Trent, glaring down at him. "Get out of this bakery right now before I call the cops."

Trent threw his hands up, scraping his chair back. "I'm done!"

He stormed toward the front exit, turning around at the glass door to deliver a final blow. "Who wants to be seen in such a crappy bakery anyways."

The door swung shut behind him, the bell chiming a hollow note. Hot, stinging tears spilled down my cheeks as I stared at the empty space he left behind. My heart shattered in my chest. He knew exactly what buttons to push, and he had torn down every shred of my self-worth. I was a fragile, crying mess, and tomorrow night, I was supposed to dress up and play the perfect daughter for a room full of strangers.