"You look like you're waiting for someone. Are you?"
The voice was smooth, low, carrying over the music in a way that made her lift her head. A man stood by her table, tall, leaning just enough to catch her attention without intruding. His eyes caught hers, sharp and intriguing, but not in the hungry way she was used to. More curious. As if he was studying her.
Jossy raised a brow, masking the sudden fear in her chest. "And what makes you think that?"
He gave a small laugh, hands slipping into his pockets. "Because you don't look like a woman who wants to be alone."
Her lips curved, a little amused, a little defensive. "Maybe I do."
"Maybe," he said, " although I don't buy it."
He didn't move closer. He just stood there, waiting.
"Mind if I sit?" he asked at last.
Jossy hesitated, her heart beating in a way that had nothing to do with the man or the alcohol.Something told her that if she said yes, tonight wouldn't end in a way Damien would approve, and she would be inviting more trouble than she was ready to handle.
Still, the man's eyes lingered on her, searching, as though he was waiting for her to say yes. Jossy felt the pull, though tempting, but choosing herself meant doing what would make Damien happy.
Her hand moved before she could think. She lifted it slightly, the diamond on her finger clear in the dimmed lights.
"I'm married," she said quietly, with a smile on her face, though the words were bitter on her tongue. Then, forcing another smile, she added, "My husband is waiting for me at home."
It was a lie, of course. Damien was across the country. But she needed an excuse to let the man down easy.
Before the man could reply, she pushed her chair back, stood, and reached for her purse. She still had a smile on her face when she cleared her tab and murmured a thank you to the bartender.
As Josy walked away, she didn't look back. She couldn't.
What would have happened if she had let him sit? If she had allowed herself one real conversation, one moment of freedom? She knew the answer. Damien would find out. Somehow, he always did. Maybe one of his men was already here, watching her every move, reporting back. The thought made her chest tighten.And so, she hurried out into the cool night air, the noise of the bar fading behind her.
At home, the silence was louder than she expected. The penthouse was beautiful, perfectly decorated, the kind of place only the rich could afford. But to her it felt like a hotel room. It was cold, polished, and not really hers. Growing up, she had always dreamed of real love, a real home, and a place where she belonged. Damien had been all that in the beginning. When did it all change? She couldn't pinpoint it, but slowly, he had started by looking down on her dressing, then her words, and then, before she knew it, he had started raising his voice at her.
She kicked off her heels by the door, her feet aching. In their bedroom bathroom, she washed the smell of alcohol from her skin, pulled on a soft nightdress, and slid into the massive bed.
For once, it was hers alone.
No Damien beside her, no heavy arm pinning her down, no forced laughter in the dark as she tried to pretend intimacy didn't make her feel empty. No need to close her eyes and picture happier times.
Tonight, she didn't have to perform. Tonight, she could lie still, breathe, and remember who she used to be..before Damien, before the cage of her marriage.
That night, she let herself drift into deep sleep.
A loud bang of the bedroom door jolted Jossy awake. Opening her eyes, the morning sun shone on the bright coloured walls. Her head throbbed, the dull ache of last night's drinks making everything unclear.