Page 9 of The Jaded Notes

“That it was fucking hot as hell.”

A smile slips from my lips. “Really?”

“Yes, but…”

“What? Just tell me what you’re thinking.”

“You’re a single woman going to a sex club in Paris. You don’t speak French that well, and you’re in a country where you don’t know the laws. What if someone takes advantage of you?”

I frown at my phone, then bring it back to my ear. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think I was speaking to Dad.”

“He lectures me all the time about shit like that, so maybe I’m starting to sound like him.”

“Look at it this way. It’s a private, rule-bound space. If I go, I go with limits, a safeword, and an exit plan. I want to own my heart again. And there, I’ll be the one in charge of everything that happens.”

The silence stretches. I can sense his judgment through the line.

“Bren, I just want to see what it feels like,” I murmur, quieter now. “To be wanted again onmyterms. No emotional leash and no aftermath.”

“You sure you’re not chasing numbness dressed up as power?”

That stops me in my tracks.

I don’t know what Bren means by asking that.

Is that part of my goal?

I don’t know, and his opinion is starting to matter less.

“Bren, I’m just tired of being haunted by things I didn’t choose.”

His voice softens. “I get it.”

I lean back on the couch, soothing the sharp ache behind my ribs. “Besides, maybe it’ll help me design the next line. You know, clothes for women who want to beseen. Clothes that allow them to be sexy, wild, and strong.”

He exhales as if he’s torn between protecting me and letting me fall. “Yeah, but why do it there?”

“Because it’s structured. I want to test my edges where consent is the baseline, not the exception. I want to experience myself without wondering if I’ll ever be free of…him. I want to find myself, who I am without always worrying about what everyone will think if it gets out.”

“And you need a sex club for that?”

“Maybe. I need to walk into a room and not wonder….”I need to feel something only I own. Something that makes me feel real.“It’s not about sex. It’s about the silence around me when I’m alone, and what I’m willing to do to crack it.”

“What? You’re grabbing at straws.”

“It’s hard for me to explain.” I pause, then try to put it in perspective. “You have your music. It’s all yours, and you always say that’s when you feel the most alive. I want that, too.”

“You already have it. You have your business.”

“Do I? Is it out there living, breathing, and making an impact?”

“It will.”

“Until it does…”I want something to fill the void.

“Livianna, it’s your turn to think. Be real and consider what could go wrong. Besides, why do you need to go to a sex club? How are you gonna find what you’re looking for when the only thing anyone who’s there wants is sex?”

Something crashes in the background—glass shattering. That can only mean one thing.