Knot The One They Want

Lorali Pov

Astrid swerves into another lane. Oh great. What is she doing? This road doesn’t lead back to the penthouse. Is she trying to use a faster route? No. I know every route back to Spade like the back of my palm. (Never understood that saying, I don’t actually know the back of my palm.)

"Where are we going?" I ask, my voice carrying more attitude than I intend. I knew better than to get into this car. What on earth was I thinking? I drop my head back against the seat with a huff, the leather cool against my hair.

"You’ll see," she replies, lips curving into a smile. I roll my eyes at the sight. She looks like someone I know when she makes that expression, but I can’t put my finger on who. Whatever. It can’t be important.

"Astrid, where are we going?" I press, trying to keep my cool. I am seconds away from grabbing the steering wheel myself and forcing us back home.

Astrid smiles, her voice dripping with mischief, and it irks me, filling me with dread. "To fix your boring life." She shakes her head before adding, "You are young, Lorali. Stop living like some old hag who’s already lived her life. You need to get out and party. Your life cannot revolve around Spade!"

"It doesn’t!" I bite back, but she flashes me a look, shaking her head. I don’t need words for her to know she doesn’t believe a single thing that came out of my mouth. "IT DOESN’T!" I shout one final time, crossing my arms. My life doesn’t revolve around Spade, it revolves around getting revenge on them. There is a difference. What does she know anyway?

A few minutes later, bright neon lights blaze in the distance. My eyes widen as a massive three‑story building towers over the surrounding streets, its entrance glowing beneath a giant sign: CLUB VICE. I wonder who built that place. The architecture is so... unique. I can’t imagine Torin ever green‑lighting his company to design something this bold.

I stare at it, my stomach twisting, then slowly turn toward Astrid. "Why are we here?" I ask with a tight smile, feigning innocence. Deep down, I already know why.

Astrid parks in the nearby lot, her grin widening like she’s been waiting for this moment all night. "Because you’re going inside," she says, her voice brimming with anticipation.

I laugh at her innocence. Does she really think I’m going into that building? It hurts my heart (it doesn’t) to break it to her. I can’t do it (I can’t wait).

"No," I say, a smile plastered on my face. She doesn’t seem moved by my answer.

"Yes," she counters, her tone playful, which only pisses me off more.

"Take me home," I demand, frustration rising like a tide.

"Nope," she says, her tone light, dismissive.

"Astrid," I groan her name out, hitting my hands on my lap. I’m so over this. "Lorali," she fires back, her voice mocking.

"I don’t belong here!" I shout, my voice breaking with frustration at our endless back‑and‑forth. Astrid turns off the engine, her tone softening. "You’ve spent enough time cooped up in that penthouse."

I frown, my voice low and stubborn. "I. Don’t. Want. To. Be. Here."

"Yes, you do," she insists, climbing out. She walks around the car, opens my door, and holds out her hand. Her voice drops into a coaxing tone. "Tonight, you’re going to live."

I hesitate, staring at her hand. She pouts, her voice teasing. "You can go back to that penthouse and have another miserable night..." Then she gestures toward the club with a smile, her tone rising with excitement. "Or you can give yourself one night you’ll actually remember."

I look at the club. Then at Astrid. She’s insane. But perhaps... Maybe I am tired of being miserable. The only joy I get is seeing Spade miserable and being with Erin and that can’t be healthy. I think smarter when I’m happy.

I step out, my voice resigned. "Fine." I cannot believe she won. Astrid beams, her tone triumphant. "That’s my girl."

We approach the entrance, and I immediately notice the enormous line snaking down the street. "Are we seriously waiting in that?" I ask, my voice incredulous. Astrid shakes her head, her earrings jingling as she struts confidently across the pavement in her high heels. "No. I’d never wait in any line," she says, her tone smug.

Before I can ask why, she walks straight toward the entrance. The bouncer immediately recognizes her. "Astrid!" he calls, his voice warm and his hand lifting in acknowledgment. She smiles at him, waving her fingers with a wink. He blushes before stepping aside, and my mouth drops open. I’ve never been to a club before, but I’m certain it’s supposed to be harder to get inside.

Astrid grabs my wrist, "Come on." She leads me inside, and the further we go, the more random people approach us...well, approach her. I’m just the girl who gets a wink with a ’Sup’.

"You know everyone?" I ask, clinging to her arm so I don’t get lost. Astrid shrugs, her tone casual. "I’ve been here a few times."

"A few?" I echo, my voice skeptical. I’ve been to the grocery store a few times, and no one knows me, except for the janitor, because I vomited in his mop bucket once from being overworked. He never forgot that.

Astrid grins, her tone dismissive. "Don’t worry about it."

The moment we walk through the endless dark hallway, the sound swallows me whole. Music pounds through the building, vibrating in my chest. Neon lights flash across the enormous dance floor in chaotic rhythm. People crowd together beneath glowing fixtures, dancing, laughing, drinking and, surprisingly, a bunch of them are kissing, without a care in the world about who’s watching.

I stare, overwhelmed. It’s nothing like anywhere I’ve ever been. Alma would be in chains for mouth if they knew I was here and still a student. Astrid shakes my wrist tucked under her hand, her voice rising with excitement. "Come on!" she exclaims, pushing through the crowd with practiced ease.

"Where are we going?!" I shout loudly over the pounding music, blocking one ear with my free hand. "Upstairs!" she calls back, her tone brimming with anticipation.

We climb the sweeping staircase, passing another floor packed with people. I can’t stop looking around, my voice filled with disbelief. "People are making out everywhere."

"Welcome to Club Vice," she chuckles, shaking her head, her tone amused.

We reach a private hallway, quieter than the chaos below, and step into a secluded room.

The space looks like a forbidden chamber of desire. Dark velvet furniture sprawls across the floor. Black walls gleam under low golden lighting. A private bar gleams in one corner, bottles lined up like jewels. A massive mirror framed by soft lights reflects the room back at me. Everything screams luxury, temptation, and secrets.

Astrid tosses her purse onto the couch with casual ease."Before we get down and dirty—" My eyes widen, and I whip my head toward her. "Not like that. Relax," she laughs, shaking her head, her voice teasing. I fold my arms, suspicion dripping from my tone. "Then what?"

"You need to change," she says firmly, striding toward a wardrobe tucked against the wall. She pulls it open with a flourish, her voice decisive. "I’m fine," I insist, glancing down at my simple outfit.

Astrid looks me up and down, unimpressed, her tone blunt. "No. Those clothes are..."

"What’s wrong with my clothes?" I demand, my voice defensive. I’m wearing a simple long, flowy black skirt that reaches my knees and a white t‑shirt layered over a long‑sleeve shirt. "You’re going to stick out like a sore thumb," she says flatly.

"I don’t care," I huff, crossing my arms. "I do," she replies firmly, already rifling through hangers. I cross my arms tighter, knowing better than to fight with her. She never gives up. It’s in one ear and out the other with Astrid, and I won’t waste my breath. "Fine. But there’s one condition."

She pauses, glancing back at me, her tone curious. "What?"

"Whatever I wear has to have a high neck." I don’t want anyone seeing the mark on my shoulder. Astrid stares at me for a long moment before nodding, her lips pressed together. "Of course. You’re unbelievable," she mutters, her tone half amused.. She digs deeper into the wardrobe until she pulls out a tiny black dress with a high neckline. She holds it up, the fabric shimmering faintly in the golden light.

No way. Is that even clothes? It’s barely a dress. I stare at it, horrified. "That is tiny," I say, my voice sharp. "It’s perfect," she counters, her grin wicked. "For you, maybe." I add side eyeing her.

"Just put it on." she says and I shake my head in frustration, snatching the dress from her hands. I disappear behind a hanging screen tucked into the corner of the room. I have no idea why it’s even here, but I’m grateful for the cover.

I change out of my clothes and slip into the dress. When I step out, Astrid goes silent, her mouth parted in shock. The little black dress hugs my figure without exposing too much. The high neckline covers my venomous bond mark perfectly, while the short hem makes me feel completely out of place. I shift uncomfortably under her gaze, my voice low.

"What?" I ask, my voice sharper than I intend. "You’re gorgeous," Astrid says simply. She moves behind me, her hands deft as she begins fixing my hair. "Who knew you were hiding all that under those boring clothes?"

She makes me sit down as she continues working on my hair. A touch of makeup follows and when she’s finished she then turns me toward the mirror.

I stare. For a moment, I don’t recognize the girl looking back. My hair frames my face differently. My eyes look brighter. The black dress makes me look older, more confident, like I have my life put together. I reach out, fingertips brushing the glass. "I’ve never looked like this," I whisper, my voice filled with disbelief.

Astrid smiles knowingly, her tone teasing but sincere. "You are so hot," she says before grabbing the dress she laid out on the bed. Without hesitation, she begins changing right in front of me.

I look away, closing my eyes for a good while until I hear the sound of a zipper sliding up. Curiosity wins and I open my eyes and glance behind me.

My mouth parts in awe. She’s wearing a short tiger‑print dress, paired with heels and an attitude that makes the entire outfit look dangerous. She looks completely at home, like this is her natural habitat. She holds out her hand, her voice light but insistent. "Ready?"

I hesitate, my fingers twitching. Astrid wiggles her fingers, her tone playful. "Come on, party virgin."

I laugh despite myself, shaking my head. "You’re never letting that go, are you?"

"Absolutely not," she replies, her tone gleeful.

I take her hand and Astrid grins, her eyes sparkling, her voice brimming with excitement. "Let’s go."

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