Page 78 of Gatsby's Starlet
As we moved deeper into the clubhouse, the weight of it settled heavier with every step, every glance, every look that followed us, until there wasn’t anything left to pretend about anymore.
Ruby had gotten me into something that was going to cost me everything.
***
THE NOISE FROMoutside faded into something distant as Kane led me down the narrow hallway and into the same room as before, my steps slowing without meaning to when I saw Drago already there, sitting back in a chair like he’d been waiting long enough for it to settle into something routine, one arm draped along the side, his posture loose in a way that didn’t feel relaxed so much as controlled, his gaze lifting slowly when we stepped in and landing on me like I’d just confirmed something he already knew.
Ruby stood off to the side, too still, too quiet, and when her eyes met mine for half a second something flickered there, guilt, fear, something I couldn’t quite hold onto long enough to name, before her gaze dropped again like she couldn’t afford to look at me any longer than that.
“Kane,” Drago said, his voice even and unhurried, like none of this took any effort at all.
Kane didn’t let go of my arm when he answered, his grip still firm, holding me in place as he shifted just enough to face him. “Picked her up at her place,” he said, like it was nothing more than routine. “She had a bag packed. Looked like she was about to take off.”
Something in Drago’s expression shifted, not much, just enough to feel it, as his gaze moved over me again, slower thistime, more deliberate, like he was reassessing something he didn’t like the look of.
“Is that right?” he asked, the question landing softer than it should have.
“I wasn’t running,” I said, my voice tighter than I wanted it to be, but I pushed it out anyway because standing there silent felt worse. “I didn’t tell him anything.”
His head tilted slightly, not quite interest, not quite disbelief, his eyes still on me in a way that made it hard to breathe.
“No?” he said.
I shook my head, my pulse loud in my ears, my hands curling in on themselves just to keep from shaking as the silence stretched out for a second too long—long enough that when Drago finally stood, slow and deliberate, it felt like something had already decided where this was going.
The scrape of the chair against the floor sounded louder than it should have, the shift in the room immediate, like everything adjusted around him without needing to be told to.
He stepped closer, not fast, he didn’t need to be.
Every step closed the space in a way that made it harder to breathe, my body locking in place even when every instinct told me to move, to get away, to do anything but stand there and let him get closer.
“You expect me to believe that,” he said, his voice still level, still controlled, but something darker had slipped in underneath it now, something that didn’t need volume to carry weight.
“I’m telling you the truth,” I said, even though my throat felt tight around the words.
His gaze stayed locked on mine, unblinking, unsoftened, and when his hand came up it moved so fast I barely tracked it before the intent caught up with me—before I understood he was going to hit me—and I flinched on instinct, the reaction slipping freebefore I could stop it, the moment stretching tight and sharp right up until Kane’s voice cut through it.
“Drago.”
It landed hard enough to split the tension before the blow ever could, but Drago didn’t look away from me right away, didn’t lower his hand, his focus still fixed, still edged, like he hadn’t decided yet whether to finish what he’d started.
“What,” he said, quieter now, something darker threading through it.
Kane already had his phone out, his attention pinned to the screen as whatever he’d pulled up played low. “I took some video at the bar,” he said, voice tight, distracted. “Might be useful.”
Drago’s hand stilled for a fraction of a second, then lowered in a slow, deliberate motion that felt less like hesitation and more like control, like he was choosing not to follow through.
“What is it,” he said.
Kane didn’t answer immediately, just stepped closer and angled the phone so the sound carried, the video already playing through the speaker—and then a voice slipped into the room, soft, threaded with a slight accent, unmistakable.
Everything shifted before I could even fully process it, the reaction immediate, like something buried had just been dragged to the surface all at once.
Zeynep.
Drago went completely still, not calm, not controlled, but contained in a way that felt worse, like everything inside him had slammed into place at once, his attention snapping to the phone in Kane’s hand so hard the rest of us might as well not have been there.
The air changed.
