Liquor + Love | Novella

➑ - Worldwide Ego

✦••••••••✦••••••••✦

The Pleasure Palace was a shrine to indulgence, throbbing with decadence as Charlotte sank into a velvet banquette, savoring the cool burn of her drink as it slid past her lips. Outside the arched windows, the universe sprawled like a glittery blanket, stars drifting lazily across the sky—probably enjoying the view as much as she was. Inside, the guests spun and swayed under chandeliers that sparkled like they were getting paid by the shimmer. Jazz hummed in the background, whispering sweet nothings to laughter that danced across the room. Plush couches practically begged for lounging, while waiters glided through, ferrying trays stacked with hedonistic delights. Every bite was a sensory overload—caviar popping like fireworks, oysters slipping down in sinful silkiness, and chocolates so smooth they could probably charm your therapist.

Charlotte gave herself a once-over, tugging the sleek red fabric into place as it clung to every curve with unapologetic boldness. The dress had been worth every disapproving glare from sales clerks as she wrestled it from the racks—scarlet silk hugging her like it was made for her and her alone. Her lips, painted to match, added just the right touch of danger, while her hair cascaded in deliberately undone waves, a calculated mess that screamed effortless allure. She looked every bit the siren, ready to rival any socialite gracing these overpriced, gold-plated walls.

Locating Mike nursing a tumbler by windows overlooking star-dotted seas, Charlotte glided to his side. "You know, I think this dress alone makes this horror worthwhile."

He raised brows in appreciation. "You're welcome. You clean up nice. But are you actually enjoying yourself or lurking as usual?"

"A bit of both. I'm... still learning and trying to resolve my habits."

"Well, clubs aren't for everyone. Bar?"

She breathed a relieved sigh. "Please, thank you."

Settled onto the plush bar stools, they both took a moment to savour the warmth of whiskey sliding down their throats, melting away the edges of their tension. With a casual wave, she flagged down the bartender, ordering a round of exotic cocktails—because nothing says "let's pretend everything's fine" like brightly colored drinks with way too many ingredients.

"So," Charlotte broke the awkwardness.

"So." Mike cleared his throat.

"I thought we wouldn't make this weird."

Mike chuckled awkwardly, cheeks warmed beneath whiskey's glow. "We're not crippled. Can't we simply... enjoy each other's company? Outside the bedroom this time."

Well, "outside the bedroom" happened to be watching the drunken masses stumble around like possessed marionettes, each one more chaotic than the last. There was a twisted satisfaction in maintaining her jaded detachment, even in front of Mike, though she knew it was hypocritical at best. After all, it wasn't like her own life was some polished, perfect picture of restraint.

Even more so when her sights were ruined. Across the polished floor, she spotted him—Ryan, his gaze like cold steel, slicing through the room. The man had the subtlety of a wrecking ball, yet somehow managed to hold the room in his iron grip. And his next victim? A waitress, delicate as spun glass.

A bitter taste clawed its way up her throat as she took in the shameless display, her stomach turning like it'd been punched. Where did this surge of anger come from? Disgust, even. Probably best to look away. Any sane person would. But no, rage insisted on VIP access, grabbing popcorn and settling in to watch the jealousy burn as she glared daggers through the crowd.

Charlotte tossed back another glass.

"Easy there boss, anymore and I'll have to stop you. Don't wanna reenact what happened the other night," Mike chuckled with an undertone of concern.