LOGINSin City simmers in the afterglow of Ava’s performance and her incendiary exchange with DeMarco. The DJ spins something glittering and fast, but DeMarco lingers in the shadows, the ghost of her perfume still haunting him. The club feels different now—charged, restless, as if every patron senses the storm brewing between the unknown owner and his new obsession.DeMarco thought of her each day and night. Her strengths and her vulnerabilities. He wanted to give her everything she desired. Hold her in his arms, shower her with kisses while her legs wrap around his waist. There was no doubt she wanted him the way he wanted her. He wanted to fix all her problems and keep her safe.She kept coming back because he was one of the few people who made her feel comfortable in her own skin. He felt the connection, and he wondered if she felt it too. Or was it just him?Nate finds him by the bar, swirling a whiskey. “You gonna brood all night, or actually make a move? Why are you making this so com
Sin City hums with anticipation after Ava's daring performance, which I wasn't expecting. DeMarco moves through the crowd, but his mind is restless, replaying the memory of her voice, her confidence, the way she owned every inch of the stage. He feels the urge to see her again, but fights to keep his composure.He’s the owner, after all—he’s supposed to be untouchable.As he glances toward the entrance, she appears, cutting through the crowd in emerald green, her dress hugging every curve with unapologetic elegance. Her gaze is cool, but tonight there’s a hint of heat—a challenge, a promise. DeMarco’s pulse quickens. He watches her, every step, every sway, every flicker of her lashes.Nate slides up beside him, smirking. “You look like a man waiting for a miracle.”DeMarco shrugs, eyes never leaving Ava. “I’m just admiring the scenery.”“Right,” Nate laughs, “and I’m just here for the appetizers.”Ava makes her way to the bar, her presence commanding attention. DeMarco’s usual confide
The morning after, Sin City sleeps while DeMarco walks its empty halls. Sunlight streams through stained glass, painting the marble in rainbow hues. He nods to the cleaning crew, tosses a tip to Leo, and checks his phone for messages. He gave her his cell number, and Nothing from Ava.He’s not sure if that’s good or bad."Hey, bar crew, it's Saturday, please, and I do mean please, as your job depends on this, make sure tonight you keep the bottles flowing and the customers overly happy. And that applies to your crews, the head waitress and waiter. He walked down the hall of the VIP rooms, his inquisitive eyes scanning the floors and seating areas to make sure the cleaning crew had been thorough that morning.Satisfied, he headed toward the escalator to travel to the upper floor to the bar and grill. He pours himself an espresso and watches the security feed from last night. Ava on the dance floor, her friends laughing, the way she moves—controlled but not rigid. He saw she was being
Sin City is at full tilt by midnight. The DJ cranks up a remix, and the crowd moves as one, hands in the air, chasing the next high. DeMarco moves through the club, his presence drawing smiles, waves, and the occasional bold wink. But tonight, every exchange feels like an audition—he can’t shake the sense that Ava is still watching, even when she’s nowhere in sight.He checks the balcony. Empty. Her reserved table? Cleared. He scans the bar, catching only the familiar faces of regulars and hopefuls. She’s gone—or at least out of view. The absence gnaws at him. You’re acting like a rookie, he scolds himself, but the thrill of pursuit is undeniable. He loves the challenge, especially when most women are chasing him.It was a nice change to hunt, instead of being haunted.At the corner booth, Steph and Nate are deep in debate.“I’m telling you, she’s trouble for more reasons than one,” Steph says, swirling her drink with a practiced wrist.Nate grins. “That’s the whole point. DeMarco wou
The city hums with weekend anticipation. Sin City pulses brighter than ever, the line outside thicker, the crowd inside hungrier. DeMarco surveys his kingdom from the mezzanine, one hand gripping the brass railing, the other adjusting his cufflinks—a ritual as much for comfort as for show.He scans the dance floor, searching for the familiar flash of dark hair and the unmistakable presence of Ava Park. She’s not here yet. He tells himself he’s just watching for VIPs, but his heart betrays him with every quick beat.Nate sidles up, popping a peanut into his mouth. “You gonna stand there all night or actually mingle?”DeMarco shrugs, glancing at Nate. “Someone’s got to make the rounds. Can’t let all these beautiful people down.”Nate grins. “You’re full of it. You’re waiting for her.”DeMarco tries to play it cool, but his mind’s already spinning. What if she doesn’t show? What if last night was just a fluke, a one-off? He hates the idea more than he expected.He forces himself down the
The sun’s barely up when DeMarco strides into his penthouse office, suit immaculate, espresso in hand. The city sprawls beneath him, all glass and promise. He’s already scrolling through messages, voice humming with meetings, deliveries, and the usual complaints.His phone buzzes. He answers on the first ring. “Carmen. Tell me something good.”His sister’s voice is crisp. “You missed Sunday dinner. Again.”He sighs, leaning back in his leather chair. “Ma’s lasagna can’t compete with Sin City’s Saturday nights.”“Ma says you’re getting too thin. I say you’re getting too cocky.”DeMarco smirks. “Only one of those is true.”A pause. “Pops wants to see you. Today. Boardroom. Noon.”DeMarco’s jaw tightens, but he keeps his tone light. “Tell him I’ll bring cannoli.”“Just bring yourself, DeMarco, the man is talking about sending to another state.” She hangs up.He sets the phone down, gaze shifting to his reflection in the window. The face everyone knows: smooth, unruffled, untouchable. He
It hadn’t started at the club.Not really.Ava Parks felt controlled by everyone—her parents, her fiancé, and even his parents, for heaven's sake. But the real fight was inside her: she wanted control of her own life, and she was going to do things her way, because the wedding had become another wa
A heavy silence blanketed the living room, only broken by the ticking of the grandfather clock in the hall. Ava sat rigid on the edge of the brocade settee, her mother’s hand at her back—gentle, but firm as a shackle. Across the room, her father’s face was a mask of disappointment and wounded pride
Ava’s voice trembled, though she tried to sound firm. Her heart hammered in her chest, a sharp, guilty ache blooming behind her ribs. She tried not to look at him, afraid her resolve would crumble beneath DeMarco’s surprised but steady gaze.I said, "DeMarco. My wedding is in a few hours. I have to
DeMarco woke with a pounding headache, his mouth dry and the sunlight stabbing through his eyelids. As he lay there, his mind raced through the fog—what had he done last night? Flashes of laughter, swirling lights, and the clink of glasses came to him in fragments. He remembered running through cit







