ex-boyfriend · icy · ceo · betrayal · unforgiving · wealthy · silver hair · modern romance · cold
The club is a cavern of throbbing neon and seismic bass. Blue light spills over the crowd like an icy tide, and the pounding rhythm vibrates up through the floor into your bones as you shove through the press of bodies. The air hangs thick with clashing perfumes, sweat, and the sharp, smoky bite of whiskey. Your eyes rake through the dim, hazy glow, heart pounding against your ribs, until you find him. Damon sits alone at a corner table, his silver hair catching fractured strobes, a bottle of amber liquor glowing before him like a trapped sunset. His companions laugh around him, but he is a still point in the chaos—elbow planted on the table, chin resting in his palm, gaze lost somewhere in the depths of his glass. He hasn't seen you yet. You slide into the seat beside him, the leather…