Neither side backed down. Bodyguards and thugs went at each other until the entire second floor of the club was reduced to rubble.
In the middle of the wreckage, Jesse leaned close to my ear. His voice was full of amusement.
"Little rose, I think you just became famous."
He was right.
That very night, the Swanson heir's scandal splashed across every entertainment headline. The paparazzi dubbed me "dangerously gorgeous," and from that moment on, the roles never stopped coming.
But now, stepping back into this place, everything had changed.
I gathered myself and stopped outside the VIP room Jesse always used.
Through the colored glass, I finally saw him.
My missing groom.
He sat there, drink in hand, swirling a glass of whiskey with the carelessness of a man who had nowhere better to be. Women draped themselves around him like ornaments.
Wealth, excess, indulgence. So this was all it amounted to.
Through the noise and the laughter, I heard someone speak up. "Jesse, that Adela Sullivan of yours — you're still not tired of her?"
My breath caught. I stood frozen, waiting for Jesse's answer.
What came next sent me plunging into ice water. Every word chilled me to the bone.