Ch. 32 – What Are The Odds?

Before he could even attempt to process the retired villainess’s twisted rationale, Rhea stepped in. The Earth Genasi woman hadn’t heard the quiet whisper, but seeing Ariadne getting so close triggered her territorial instincts. Rhea grabbed Rhys firmly by the hand, her golden eyes flashing with playful urgency.

“Come on!” Rhea cheered over the thumping bass. “Enough talking at the bar! I want to go dancing!”

Without waiting for a vote, Rhea, Dione, and Ariadne surrounded Rhys, taking his hands and leading him down the marble stairs straight into the pulsing heart of the main dance floor.

Rhys was reluctant at first, his suburban instincts telling him to pull back. But as he stood under the flashing, magical strobe lights, looking at the three breathtaking women surrounding him, his defenses crumbled. They looked utterly gorgeous—their shimmering outfits catching the light, their hair flying, their faces flushed with uninhibited joy as they began to move to the heavy rhythm.

Surrendering to the warm, heavy alcohol in his system, Rhys let go. He started to dance, moving his hips and shoulders to the beat.

The three women let out collective, breathless gasps of excitement seeing their hero finally let loose. The high-energy crowd around them seemed to melt away as the four of them formed their own private orbit. Rhys found himself actually enjoying it—enjoying the rare, fleeting freedom of not having to think, not having to worry about hero duties, super-villains, or domestic chores. For the first time in months, he was just living in the raw, euphoric present.

Suddenly, the DJ transitioned the track. The lights shifted from deep violet to a flashing, high-bpm crimson as a heavy, bass-boosted track thundered through the speakers.

Rhea was the first to get active. The tall Earth Genasi crouched down right in front of Rhys, her wide, golden hips moving in a mesmerizing, fluid rhythm as she began grinding her back deeply against his front. Rhys’s eyes widened in sheer amazement at her unbelievable curves and how effortlessly she moved her statuesque body to the heavy bass.

Sensory overload hit him from all sides as Ariadne and Dione moved in on his flanks, managing to take up every single inch of remaining space around him. Dione pressed her soft front against his left side, her hands sliding under his velvet jacket to feel his bare waist, while Ariadne pressed against his right, her hands roaming over his chest as they both began grinding against him in perfect, synchronized harmony with Rhea.

Rhys leaned his head back, letting out a low, helpless groan of pure pleasure as he danced with them, completely enveloped in their soft skin, intense furnace heat, and intoxicating scents. He could see dozens of envious, wide-eyed onlookers around the dance floor staring at them, utterly mesmerized by the single guy commanding the undivided, feverish attention of three unbelievable women.

Lost in the incredible high of the music, the alcohol, and the touch of the three women, Rhys casually turned his head, letting his dazed eyes sweep across the upper VIP balcony on the far side of the club.

His heart instantly stopped.

His blood ran ice-cold, freezing him mid-step in the center of the dance floor.

Directly across the room, elevated high above the crowd and illuminated by the flashing crimson lights of the upper lounge, were two figures.

It was Marcus... slow-dancing intimate and close with Vespera.

Rhys froze in the middle of the thumping dance floor, every alarm bell in his head blaring at top volume. His heart pounded against his ribs like a trapped animal. Across the room, elevated on the VIP lounge balcony, Marcus was laughing, his hands resting awkwardly but happily on Vespera’s waist as they swayed to the heavy bass.

It was an impossible, catastrophic coincidence. Marcus and Vespera must have finished their extravagant steakhouse dinner and decided to hit the hottest spot downtown, oblivious to the fact that Rhys and his trio of scandalous companions were down on the lower floor.

Panic seized Rhys. If Marcus looked down right now and saw his married best friend surrounded by three jaw-dropping women in microscopic dresses grinding against him, everything would explode. His marriage to Lira, his friendship with Marcus, his quiet domestic life—it would all burn to the ground in a single second.

I have to get out of here right now, Rhys thought frantically, his eyes darting toward the distant emergency exit signs.

As if responding directly to his desperate urge to escape, Dione leaned up on her tiptoes. Her soft, rain-scented breath tickled his ear as her manicured fingers dug tightly into his velvet jacket. “Rhys...” Dione whimpered softly, her blue eyes flushed with absolute, uninhibited lust. “I can’t take it anymore... I need you so badly right now...”

Rhys’s dazed, alcohol-softened brain latched onto her words like a life raft. This was the perfect, dark opportunity to slip away. Dione wanted to leave the dance floor, and Rhys needed to disappear into the shadows before Marcus’s gaze drifted down.

“Alright,” Rhys breathed out, taking Dione’s hand tightly. “Let’s go.”

Dione let out a breathless, ecstatic gasp, taking the lead and tugging Rhys off the dance floor, with Rhea and Ariadne following eagerly right behind them like a territorial pack.

As Dione navigated through the packed crowd of pulsing bodies, Rhys kept his head turned backward over his shoulder, hyper-vigilantly monitoring the VIP balcony. He watched Marcus and Vespera dancing under the flashing crimson lights. Marcus looked genuinely, undeniably happy—smiling with a pure, boyish joy he hadn’t shown in years. For a fleeting split second, Rhys felt a strange pang of warmth and pride for his loyal friend.

Then Rhys’s eyes drifted to Vespera.

His chest violently wrenched with a suffocating, toxic cocktail of conflicting emotions. Pure anger flared at her ruthless manipulation; a fierce, protective instinct roared for Marcus’s safety; but beneath it all lay a dark, confusing sting of... betrayal. Vespera looked a little too natural, a little too gorgeous, leaning her sleek body into Marcus’s frame, smiling up at him with dark, playful indulgence. It drove Rhys insane that she could play Marcus like a fiddle while keeping Rhys chained to her wicked puppet strings.

Rhys forced himself to tear his eyes away, turning back around, expecting to see the double glass doors of the club’s main exit.

Instead, his heart sank straight into his gut.

Dione hadn’t led them toward the front doors at all. She had marched them straight down a dimly lit, velvet-draped hallway into the back corridor toward the luxury VIP restrooms.