A hand circled her wrist. Lips nudged her ear. She closed her eyes in relief and breathed in a cloud of Tom Ford Noir.

"You look amazing." He led her to the sofa and claimed the s.p.a.ce beside her, his fingers cupping her knee, at first tentatively. Then seeing she didn't squirm or push him away, he ventured a few inches higher until his hand was resting near the hem of her dress.

"You came alone?" Her heart raced at the possibilities unfolding before her.

"You were expecting Madison?"

At the sound of her name, Aster instinctively recoiled, only to have Ryan pull her back to him. "Can't even remember the last time we spoke," he said between kisses.

"And yet, according to the tabloids, you guys are as hot and heavy as ever."

Ryan pulled away, buying a few moments' reprieve by pouring shots of chilled vodka. "It's in the works. I promise. I just hope you can be as patient with me as I've been with you." His gaze met hers, and she felt herself squirm. He had been patient. She had led him on. Or at least sort of. Not entirely. But yeah, maybe a little.

She leaned in for the kind of kiss she'd so far avoided. Her body pressed against his, she kissed him fully, deeply, and once she'd started she found it nearly impossible to stop. He buried a hand in her hair. Pulling away for a moment to gaze at her in wonder, before finding her lips once again. His fingers creeping steadily up her thigh, slipping under her dress, as she melted into his arms. Ryan adored her. She could hear it in his voice. Feel it in his touch. And as his fingers flirted with the edge of her thong, she wondered if it was actually possible to die of happiness.

His breath grew heated and quick, as he coaxed a finger under the lace, only to have her panic and push him away. "Aster, please," he moaned, his voice hoa.r.s.e. "You have no idea what you're doing to me." He pulled her back to him, reclaiming her lips in a way that had her torn between ripping his clothes off and doing him right there in the Riad, and pulling the brake while she still could. Losing her virginity in public was never part of the plan.

"Ryan." She placed her palms on his shoulders and pushed him away until there was enough s.p.a.ce between them for her to think clearly. "I can't do this-not here-not like this. . . ." She paused, unsure if she should mention he was about to be her first. Some guys liked that sort of thing, while others did their best to steer clear. She decided against it. The night was already more perfect than she'd imagined; she wouldn't allow anything to change that. "We need to slow down. Or at least I need to slow down." She took a deep breath, then rushed to explain. "I'm still at work. I can't exactly spend the whole night in here with you. Though that's not to say that later, after the club closes, we can't . . . finish what we started . . ." She flashed a flirtatious grin, aware of her heart pounding so loudly it was a wonder he couldn't hear it.

Ryan considered her for a long, thoughtful moment. Then, without another word, he rose to his feet, extended his hand, and shot her that world-famous smile that made a million hearts melt, hers included.

"Where we going?" she asked, afraid he was trying to lure her away, despite what she'd said.

"Dance with me, Aster. You're at least allowed to dance, right?"

She grasped his hand and let him lead her onto the dance floor.

"Though believe me, once you're off the clock, I have every intention of picking up exactly where we left off."

THIRTY-TWO.

THIS IS HOW A HEART BREAKS.

Layla stood by the bar and checked the time on her phone. "You going to the party?" Zion asked, coming over to join her.

Layla took in his shaved head, gleaming brown skin, perfect bone structure, and bronze-colored eyes, and shrugged. Zion was ridiculously beautiful, and he knew how to work it. But somehow it wasn't nearly as annoying coming from him as it was from Aster Amirpour.

"Don't tell me you're going to pa.s.s up the chance to celebrate Queen b.i.t.c.h Aster?" Zion goaded her.

"It's not about Aster," she reminded him. "It just happens to take place at Night for Night. Ira promised he'd rotate the parties."

"Well, don't tell Aster. She thinks it's her club. Just like she thinks it's her party."

Layla rolled her eyes. It was nice to share a common enemy. Not to mention Zion was the only one on her team still talking to her. Brandon was gone, and Karly had never warmed up. Though she often suspected it was probably because Zion didn't view her as a threat. Sure, she'd managed to bring in Heather Rollins, but Zion consistently filled up the club with so many insanely gorgeous models, it eclipsed her more modest gets.

Not like she cared. Thanks to Heather and all the Madison gossip she fed Layla, the blog was taking off. Still, in order to maintain her insider access, she needed to stay in the game, which made her just as determined as Zion.

"Is that your get?" Zion shook his head and made a disgusted face, as he nodded toward a man who could only be described as beige. "Honey, that's not even normcore, that's borecore. And it looks like mister tall, pale, and nondescript is heading your way. I'll leave you to it."

Layla watched as the man approached, the colorful overhead lights casting crazy shadows over his face. With his pleated khakis, tan walking shoes, and white golf shirt, he looked so out of place among the trendy young club kids, she wondered for a moment if he was somebody's dad.

"Are you Layla Harrison?" His pale gaze moved over her.

She nodded, watching in confusion as he reached into his back pocket and handed her a folded sheet of paper. "What's this?" She squinted at the official-looking typeface.

"Restraining order."

She blinked and shook her head, sure she'd misheard.

"From this point on, you are not to go within fifty feet of Madison Brooks."

"Are you freaking kidding me?" Layla trembled with frustration and rage as her fingers crunched the paper into her fist. "I trip and spill my drink and now I'm a stalker? Is she for real?"

"Stalking charges are no joke. Neither are the slanderous stories you post on your blog." His face was impa.s.sive, gave nothing away.

"It's not slander if it's true," Layla grumbled, before she could stop herself.

She shook her head and looked around the club, convinced Zion or Karly was playing some kind of prank. Until she looked at the tall, plain man again, saw the way his gaze narrowed on hers until his pale eyes nearly disappeared.

"Who the h.e.l.l are you?" she asked. His bland face looked vaguely familiar, though she had no idea why.

"I represent Madison Brooks. And it's in your best interest to take this seriously. We clear?"

"Crystal." She glared, watching as he turned and made for the exit.

As soon as he was gone, she ripped the doc.u.ment to shreds, deposited the pieces into the can behind the bar, dumped a load of ice cubes and lime wedges on top, and stormed out of Jewel.

When Madison had claimed Layla would be hearing from her lawyers, Layla a.s.sumed she was bluffing.

What kind of spoiled, ent.i.tled princess goes after someone for accidentally spilling some coffee?

You are not to go within fifty feet of Madison, he'd said. Like Madison got to dictate where Layla went. She shook her head and reached for her cell, about to call Mateo, if for no other reason than to share her outrage, only to press End before the call could go through. Last time she'd told him about her run-in with Madison, he was completely lacking in sympathy. She wouldn't give him a reason to say I told you so.

She climbed on her bike and headed down the boulevard to Night for Night. With the warm summer-night air rushing over her skin, she was tempted to keep going, maybe never return. She wondered if anyone would miss her besides her dad. Mateo would-at least in the beginning. But things had grown so tense between them it wouldn't take long before he realized he was better off without her.

But Layla wasn't a quitter. And so she left her bike at the curb and nodded at James as he unhooked the velvet rope and ushered her in.

The plan was to swing by Ira's table long enough to show her face and say a quick h.e.l.lo, then get the h.e.l.l out of there. She was in no mood to party. All she wanted to do was climb into bed, pull the covers over her head, and never emerge.

She moved through the club, making her way toward Ira, when a fight broke out on the dance floor, scattering the crowd and leaving Layla to stare in disbelief to find Ryan Hawthorne, Madison Brooks, and Aster Amirpour at the center of the fight.

"How could you?" Madison cried, her lips trembling, cheeks glistening under the glow of the copper lanterns, as Aster gaped in shock, Ryan wiped his lips with the back of his hand, and Layla instinctively reached for her cell, set it to video, and edged closer.

Screw the restraining order. Layla was a professional, and this was too good to pa.s.s up.

Aster reached for Madison, attempting to calm her, only to have Madison lash out like an injured animal.

"Get away from me!" Madison yelled. "Don't you dare touch me!"

Ryan jumped between them, hands raised in surrender. "Mad-what are you doing?" His voice was incredulous, his gaze darting wildly, taking in the number of witnesses, before returning to his enraged A-list girlfriend.

"I stopped by, hoping to surprise you. It's been weeks since we've seen each other, and now I know why!" She pointed an accusing finger at Aster, as Aster cringed behind Ryan, and Ryan moved to placate Madison, looking angry for sure, but not necessarily surprised.

Layla snuck closer, viewing the scene via her cell phone. Hardly able to believe she'd scored a front-row seat to what would be the most talked-about story for weeks-months if it turned out to be a slow summer for scandal. She centered her focus on Madison's eyes spilling fast tears, repeatedly asking Ryan why, as Aster stood awkwardly behind him.

It was the performance of a lifetime, that much was sure, and Layla continued to record it, following Madison as she raced for the door. Her head bent, arms wrapped tightly around her waist, she darted through a crowd that strangely allowed her to pa.s.s without incident, until she reached the place where Layla stood, lifted her chin, and looked right at her, almost as though Madison had expected to see Layla standing in that very spot.

Then again, it happened so fast, Layla couldn't be sure how much she'd made up in her head, thanks to her own panic at being discovered less than fifty feet away from the person who'd recently brought stalking charges against her.

When Ira stepped in to say a few words, Layla strained to hear, but the music m.u.f.fled his voice. She was just about to stop recording when Madison reached the entrance at the same moment Tommy arrived. And Layla watched in shock as Tommy tossed a protective arm around Madison's shoulder, whispered into her ear, and led her out the door and into the night.

THIRTY-THREE.

HOW TO SAVE A LIFE.

Madison was shaking.

She also looked upset, like someone who'd just experienced something they wouldn't recover from anytime soon.

It had all happened so fast there was no time to think. One moment Tommy was entering the club, figuring he'd hang long enough for Ira to notice his presence, and the next Madison was barreling toward him, her face covered in tears. So Tommy did the only thing he could: he shouted at everyone to back the h.e.l.l off, tossed his jacket over her shoulders, then walked her to her car, climbed behind the wheel, and drove around until he was sure they hadn't been tailed, before stopping at the Vesper and hiding her in one of the back rooms while waiting for the club to clear and it was safe for her to be there.

The most surprising thing was Madison's willingness to go along with his half-baked plan without a single word of protest. Then again, she'd barely spoken. It was like she was lost in her own little world, happy to let someone else take charge.

"You okay?" Tommy asked, once she was settled. Casting an anxious gaze at her beautiful face, noting how small and vulnerable she looked wearing his leather jacket. All the while repeating in his head, She's just a girl-a girl in crisis. She needs peace, comfort, quiet, and a little support. You can handle it.

Madison tugged the sleeves over her fingers and pressed them tightly to her lips for a moment, before dropping her hands to her lap as though surrendering a burden she'd carried too long. "G.o.d, I probably look terrible." She drew her shoulders in, gazing at him through bright, glossy eyes.

"Not possible." He claimed the seat across from her and offered a beer. He hoped she liked beer. From all the pictures he'd ever seen, she normally drank champagne. But the Vesper didn't serve champagne, and from the first day they'd met, he'd had the feeling Madison could kick back a cold one as good as any girl back home. From the way her fingers clutched at the frosty bottle, pressing it first to her cheek, then to her forehead, before taking a sip, he'd been right about that much at least.

"Thanks for getting me out of there." The look she gave him was far more grateful than such a small act deserved. "Very gallant of you." She tapped the neck of her bottle to his and took another sip.

"I do what I can." Tommy shrugged, wishing he'd said something cooler, not that he could think of anything cooler.

"How much did you see?" She set her bottle on the table, ran her index finger around the rim.

"Nothing." He picked at the label on his beer, though he had a good guess. "I'd just rolled up when I ran into you."

She lifted her chin, peered at him down the length of her elegant nose. "Doesn't seem like your kind of club."

"It's not. But I needed to make an appearance." Madison nodded, and Tommy was sure he'd never seen anything more heartbreakingly beautiful. With her mascara-smudged eyes, she seemed fragile, haunted, in need of protecting. He swallowed hard, fought to keep himself steady, even.

Madison blinked and gazed down at her hands, splaying her pale, delicate fingers against the scarred wood table. "I wonder if Aster will get credit for getting both me and Ryan to the club?"

It was Tommy's turn to blink. He didn't know Madison had heard the rumors swirling around about Aster and Ryan. Though he should've guessed. Madison seemed like the kind of girl who didn't allow much to slip past.

"What do you know about her?" She lifted her gaze and studied him closely. She'd know if he lied.

He tipped his head back and stared at the acoustically sound ceiling for a long, thoughtful moment. "Not much." He shrugged. It was the truth.

Madison nodded, took another sip of her beer, and sighed the sigh of someone grown weary beyond their years. What she needed most was a place to lay her head, and the promise of a new day. The refuge Tommy offered was temporary at best.

Still, despite the tears, she didn't come off as someone who'd just caught her guy with another girl. Tommy should know. He'd once had a girl dump an entire Big Gulp Slurpee on his head for flirting with her best friend. Though he didn't know her well, there was nothing about Madison that struck Tommy as docile, and yet she'd handled the news too easily, too matter-of-factly.

Then again, maybe Madison was just that good of an actress, able to keep her emotions in check.

If it didn't concern her, then it shouldn't concern him. He was better off shutting down his thoughts and focusing on finishing his beer.

"By tomorrow morning, the whole world will know-if they don't already." Her voice was distant, gaze far away. "But do me a favor, please don't ask for any of the details. Not that you have, and I appreciate that. It's just so nice to be with someone who's not necessarily a fan. Who probably doesn't know the first thing about me, and doesn't much care."

Tommy started to speak, about to protest the part about not being a fan, but then he thought better. He couldn't think of a single movie of hers that he'd watched. Then again, he wasn't much of a movie guy. Music pretty much ruled his life.

"Another beer?" He tipped his bottle toward hers.

She nodded, slid the empty toward him, and when he leaned in to take it, she clutched the front of his gray plaid shirt and kissed him with a need that surprised him. When she finally pulled away, Tommy had the distinctive feeling that a switch had been flipped-he'd been officially initiated into something he couldn't quite grasp, and yet there was no denying that from that point forward, there was no going back.

THIRTY-FOUR.

LIKE A VIRGIN.

After the awful scene between her, Ryan, and Madison, Aster was sure Ira would call a halt to the party. But Ira, always game to capitalize on a scandal, wasted no time escorting Aster and Ryan back to the Riad, ignoring Ryan when he told him they should probably call it a night.

"Don't be ridiculous." His tone was nonnegotiable. "Until things cool down, you're better off here than out there. When you're ready to leave, you can use the side door. I'll tell James to look after you. Trust me, no one will bother you with James around."

Aster remained silent, more than happy to let them work out the logistics. She needed to sort through her feelings. In light of what had happened, she figured she should be steeped in deep shame, or at the very least feel bad about all the upset she'd caused. She'd done the unthinkable, traumatized an A-list celebrity by stealing her boyfriend. Or at least that was how the press would play it, despite the fact that it was nowhere close to the truth.