Chapter 2 Foolish Trap

• Kade POV
• His hand presses firmer against my thigh. “How do you usually celebrate a win, Mercer?”
• I swallow, my throat feels dry, which is impossible considering how much I've drank. I push down the nerves and respond anyway. “That depends.”
• “On?”
• My gaze flickers up and I focus on him. “On how far you’re willing to take it.” My shoulder shrugs slightly, purely to try and make it seem like I'm indifferent right now when I'm not.
• Darren watches me for a long moment, then exhales slowly. He leans back, his hand moves off my leg and I watch as he reaches into his jacket pocket. A second later, he presses a key card into my hand.
• “Room 714,” he says. “Give me five minutes.”
• My eyes go down, and I stare at the card, my skin tingles where his fingers brush against mine. I don't say anything else, I just stand and leave while clutching the card.
• The night air is sharp as I step out of the club, but it does nothing to clear my head. I move quickly, weaving through the crowd outside, gripping the key card between my fingers.
• A car pulls up to the curb, it's sleek and black, the kind that belongs to people like Darren. The back door swings open, and a driver nods toward me. Well, shit, standing here, I hesitate for only a second before climbing inside. The door shuts, sealing me into the silence, and I should listen to my mind, but I don't.
• “Where to, sir?” the driver asks. “I’ve been told to ask, not assume,” he says.
• My eyes flicker down to the hotel room keycard in my hand. My heart is still racing, my body still buzzing from the way Darren touched me, this is foolish, but... I don't even know anymore I want different, something new.
• “Hotel Crown Plaza,” I say, my voice steady despite the way my fingers tighten around the card.
• The driver nods but says nothing else as he pulls away from the curb, the neon lights of the club fade behind us. My pulse pounds harder with every mile. I should turn around, and should walk away. But I already know I won’t. The car stops and I get out, walking into the hotel. Am I really doing this? I step into the elevator, and tell myself it's the last chance to turn around.
• It feels like I should, the elevator ride is too damn slow.
• I tap the key card against my palm, shifting my weight from foot to foot as the numbers climb higher. The hotel is high-end, sleek, and modern, but right now, it feels suffocating to me. Everything in me is saying turn around. I should pretend this never happened and that I was never given this card.
• But I don't, and when the doors slide open with a quiet chime, I step into the hallway, knowing it's time to turn around, but I still push forward. Maybe because I am drunk? It's too quiet up here; the thick carpet muffles my footsteps as I move towards the room, he said. 714. I stop outside, and the gold numbers gleam under the dim hallway lights.
• This entire place is expensive and yet unassuming for what I'm about to do anyway. For a moment, I just stand here, telling myself now is the time to turn around. Sighing, I slide the key card against the reader without thinking, without second-guessing myself. A soft beep sounds and the light flicks to green as the lock clicks open.
• Pushing the door open, I step inside. The room is huge; it has floor-to-ceiling windows that overlook the city, and it showcases the skyline of glowing lights stretching endlessly into the night. Everything inside this room is sleek and modern, all dark wood, leather and perfectly clean lines.
• My eyes fall on Darren who is standing near the minibar, currently pouring two glasses of whiskey. I notice that his tie is now loose around his collar, and the top buttons of his shirt are undone,
• His smirk rises when he sees me, and he doesn't look surprised like he expected me not to show, if anything he seems to have known I would. Am I that predictable?
• His hand moves, and he lifts one of the glasses out, holding it towards me. "Didn't hesitate, did you?" he asks.
• Shrugging, I step further inside. "I figured you wouldn't send a drive if you had changed your mind," I explain.
• He chuckles, setting one of the glasses down on the bar. “You always this confident?”
• Taking my time, I walk over before grabbing the drink and swirling the liquid before taking a slow sip. The burn is smooth and expensive. It's the sort of whiskey that you keep for years, only have one glass here and there.
• “You always this persistent?” I shoot back.
• Darren tilts his head slightly, studying me. “Only when I know what I want," he says his is low, even, and it sends something sharp down my spine.
• Moving, I lean against the bar as I set my glass down. "And what is it you want, exactly?" I ask, waiting for his response.
• He steps closer, the space between us shrinking, there's no hesitation in the way he moves. “You,” he says simply as his fingers trail over the edge of my sleeve, slowly and deliberately.
• “Is that so?” I murmur, not moving, just watching him.
• His lips twitch and his eyes darken. “You tell me.” Slowly, his hand skims lower, brushing against my wrist, then my thigh, fingers pressing just hard enough to make my breath hitch.
• My pulse pounds in my ears, but I don’t pull away. I let him touch me and him test me, while letting the silence stretch between us, it's thick with something heavier than I expected.