Page 113 of Damián

I reach the nightclub and immediately push my way inside, scanning the crowded floor. I’ve been here before, so I know exactly where to go.

I cut straight toward the VIP section, and… yeah, just like the photo showed, Oliver is sitting on a velvet couch, whispering into the man’s ear.

Zara is there, too, staring at me with the happiest, smuggest expression I’ve ever seen on her face.

Is she happy that Ollie is with another man?

Did she hear that we fought?

And sure, Oliver and the man aren’t exactly touching… They’re more like sitting side-by-side. But still, Oliver is whispering right into his fucking ear, and I know they have a history.

I head toward their section, and the second Oliver sees me, he freezes. He looks completely shocked, but worse than that?

He looks busted.

That one guilty expression makes my stomach drop all over again.

He scrambles to his feet and hurries over to intercept me before I can reach the couch.

“What are you doing here?” Oliver asks, his eyes darting nervously around the room.

“Me?” I snap. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Damián, it’s not what it seems. He’s just—”

“I’ve seen all the pictures of you with him.”

The man steps up behind Oliver and reaches a hand out. “Is everything okay, Ollie?”

Fuck, he looks even better in person.

This is not good…

“Yes, everything is okay, Kaleo.”

No, Oliver, everything is not okay.

I want to punch the handsome Momoa-looking guy in the face, but instead, I grab Oliver by the arm and drag him away from the table, pulling him toward the back hallway.

“Damián, what are you doing?” Oliver asks, stumbling slightly as I pull him down the dimly lit hallway. “What are you looking for?”

I ignore him while I twist the doorknobs of the private VIP rooms. The first two are locked, but when I grab the third handle, it opens.

I shove the door open, pull Oliver inside, and lock the freaking thing behind us.

“Seriously, Damián, what the—” he begins to say, but he doesn’t get to finish.

I surge forward, shoving him back until his back hits the wall. Then, I pin him there with my entire body weight and crash my mouth over his.

Oliver gasps in surprise.

“This is a misunderstanding—” he manages to say, but I silence him with another kiss.

I am too angry to listen to his lies, too hurt at the realization that I was going out of my mind thinking about him, if we were okay, and where he was, while he was meeting another man.

A groan rumbles in my chest as I grind my hips against him, desperate for friction, desperate to connect with this man again.

To fix things between us.