The word hit me like a strike to the chest, making my breath hitch. My stomach twisted, my palms sweaty as I clutched the glass tighter, afraid I might drop it.

“You’re insane,” I whispered, shaking my head, though my voice wobbled and betrayed me.

“Maybe,” he replied smoothly, his eyes never moving away from mine. They pinned me to my seat like invisible chains. “But that doesn’t change the fact that you came here. To my club. Sat in my VIP section. Drank my champagne.” His ...