The bass from the speakers vibrated through the floorboards of Club Xanadu.
Camilla sat in the dark corner of a VIP booth. She was wearing a tight, black slip dress that hugged her curves. It was a dress the "perfect Stark wife" would never wear. The glass table in front of her was littered with empty shot glasses.
Her eyes were hazy from the alcohol, but a wild, reckless sense of freedom burned in her chest.
She picked up a half-full glass of tequila. She raised it to the empty air in front of her.
"To divorce!" she slurred, a bitter laugh escaping her lips. "To freedom! To being a 'useless, barren' ex-wife!"
She threw her head back and swallowed the burning liquid. It burned her throat, but she welcomed the pain.
A random man in a cheap suit slid into the booth next to her. He leaned in too close. He smelled like cheap cologne and desperation.
"Hey beautiful, alone tonight?" the man purred. "Let me buy you a-"
Camilla slowly turned her head. She gave him a look so cold it could freeze water.
"Not interested. Get lost," she spat.
The man scowled and quickly slid out of the booth, disappearing into the crowd.
A few seconds later, the velvet curtain to the VIP booth was pushed aside. A tall, incredibly handsome man walked in. It was Cristobal West.
He took one look at the empty glasses and Camilla's flushed face. His jaw tightened. He walked straight over to her.
Cristobal reached out and gently pulled the empty glass from her fingers. His voice was soft, but firm.
"Camilla, that's enough. You're drunk."
Camilla blinked heavily. She looked up at him. It took her brain a second to recognize the face of her childhood friend and her father's business partner. A sad smile touched her lips.
"Cristobal? What are you doing here?"
Cristobal sat down right next to her. He naturally wrapped a warm, supportive arm around her shaking shoulders.
"Your father called me," Cristobal said, his voice laced with quiet concern. "He said Carlisle was acting erratically and that you weren't answering your phone. I came looking for you. You shouldn't be alone like this."
The warmth of his body broke the last of her defenses. The alcohol made her weak. She leaned her head against his shoulder. A thick lump formed in her throat.
"He divorced me, Cristobal," she whispered, her voice cracking. "For his first love. Said I was useless..."
Cristobal's hand rubbed gentle circles on her back. His eyes darkened with pure anger.
"He's a fool, Camilla," Cristobal said fiercely. "A blind, arrogant fool."
Camilla suddenly lifted her head. Her eyes flashed with stubborn pride despite the tears.
"I'm not useless. I'm not. I can be more than his wife..."
Cristobal looked down at her. His heart ached. He reached up and gently tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.
"I know you can. I've always known. You're talented, smart, beautiful..."
Camilla stared at him. The alcohol blurred the lines of reality. She reached up and let her fingertips brush against his jawline.
Cristobal... you always..." she mumbled, her eyelids drooping.
Cristobal caught her uninjured hand. He held it against his chest. He leaned down and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to her forehead.
"I'm here for you. Always."
Right at that exact moment, the velvet curtain was pulled back again.
Gregorio Cooley stood in the entrance. He was Carlisle's best friend. His eyes went wide as saucers as he stared at Camilla and Cristobal huddled together.
Gregorio quickly stepped back into the shadows before they could see him.
Inside the booth, Cristobal stood up. He gently pulled Camilla to her feet.
"Come on, let me take you home. You need to rest."
Camilla leaned heavily against his side. They walked out of the booth together. As they walked down the dark, neon-lit hallway, Camilla's purse slipped from her shoulder. Cristobal quickly bent down to catch it. His arm wrapped tightly around her waist to keep her from falling. In the dim light, they looked incredibly intimate.
Gregorio stood behind a pillar. His hands shook as he held up his phone and recorded the entire thing.
He immediately dialed Carlisle's number.
"Carlisle, you need to get to Club Xanadu now," Gregorio said, his voice rushing. "It's about your wife... I mean, ex-wife. She's here with some guy, and they're..."
There was two seconds of dead silence on the other end of the line.
"I'll be there," Carlisle's voice was pure ice.
Outside the club, Cristobal helped Camilla into the passenger seat of his sports car. He leaned over her to buckle her seatbelt. Camilla was already half-asleep.
"Never again..." she mumbled into the leather seat.
Cristobal looked at her sleeping face. His eyes were heavy with years of hidden love.
"I'll take care of you, Camilla," he whispered. "Starting tonight."
He shut the door and drove away into the night.
Ten minutes later, Carlisle's Maybach screeched to a halt in front of the club. He stormed through the front doors, his face dark with fury.
He found the empty VIP booth. He saw the empty shot glasses. He demanded the club manager show him the security footage.
Carlisle watched the screen. He saw Cristobal wrapping his arm around Camilla's waist. He saw them leaving together.
A violent, sickening wave of jealousy crashed into his chest. His veins popped against his skin.
He pulled out his phone and dialed Cristobal's number.
"Cristobal West," Carlisle growled, sounding like a demon. "Where are you taking my wife?"
Cristobal's voice came through the speaker, calm and mocking.
"Your 'wife'? I thought you divorced her tonight, Carlisle. She's not your property anymore."
Carlisle grabbed an empty glass off the table and hurled it against the brick wall. It shattered into a hundred pieces.
"I'm asking you one last time. Where. Is. She?"
Cristobal laughed coldly. "Somewhere you'll never find her. Don't bother."
The line went dead.
Carlisle stood in the middle of the ruined booth. His chest heaved. He stared at the broken glass on the floor. He had wanted this divorce. He had demanded it. So why did the thought of her with another man make him want to burn the entire city to the ground?
