Theo shot up from his seat, threw open the door, and chased after her.
The club wasn’t huge, but it was exclusive—only the city’s most powerful and well-connected ever made it past the door. The hallway upstairs was lined with classic French paintings, and there was even a massive photo of one of Zaha Hadid’s famous buildings. Sunlight spilled through the gap between the two buildings, casting everything in gold. It was so bright it almost hurt to look at, like a pair of silver swords bursting from the ground, catching fire at the tips.
“Ruby.” Theo caught up to her at the top of the stairs, grabbing her arm.
“I haven’t changed with you. Not once,” he blurted, trying to get the words out before they slipped away.
But then he saw Patricia.
She was standing across the corridor in a long white chiffon dress, the fabric draping perfectly over her legs. Her heels were barely there, blending into her skin, and her whole vibe was cool and untouchable, like one of those white lotuses floating in the center of a pond—beautiful, but impossible to reach.
Patricia was gazing at a painting, totally lost in her own world. When she finally noticed Theo staring, she turned and met his eyes. Something twisted inside him, sharp and angry. His grip on Ruby tightened, making her wince. She followed his gaze and realized Patricia was right there, watching them.
The grand foyer had twin staircases curling up on either side, and now Theo and Patricia were staring each other down from opposite landings.
“Well, well, looks like little sis is getting cozy with her ex-brother-in-law,” Jackson’s voice rang out, loud and cutting. He was never one to let Patricia have a quiet moment.
“Jackson, shut up,” Ruby snapped, face flushed with anger.
“I didn’t say any names. Why are you so eager to take offense? You look clever, so why’s your brain all scrambled?” Jackson shot back, smirking.
She’d been out of his league even when she was at her lowest. Now that she was back on her feet, there was no way she’d ever look his way again.
“Miss is just too classy. If it were me, I’d have gone over and slapped him twice already,” Jackson grumbled as he buckled his seatbelt.
“What’s the hurry?” Patricia tossed her shawl over her knees, totally unbothered. “I’d break his legs, lock him up, and take my time. Make sure he never gets away.”
Aiden just stared, wide-eyed. These two—one was reckless, the other was completely unhinged.
No wonder they ruled the place.

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