Chapter 3: Something Sweet

The club was nestled at the far end of the resort, its entrance framed by bamboo and flickering torches, a warm thump of bass pulsing gently from within. Inside, the space opened up into an intimate lounge—low lighting, velvet booths, and a polished dance floor where couples moved slowly, sensually, under a canopy of glowing orbs. The air was thick with perfume, alcohol, and promise.

Melena held James’s hand as they stepped into the glow, her fingers laced through his, her body close enough to make it clear she wanted to be seen with him. Her red dress shimmered in the low light like spilled wine, clinging to every curve. She turned toward him and tugged him gently to the bar.

“Let me buy this round,” she said, sliding onto a high stool. “Something with rum.”

They sipped a pair of dark cocktails spiced with lime and sugarcane, the drinks smooth and heady. Melena’s leg brushed against James’s as they sat, her touch lingering. Her eyes were scanning the room, casually, but with intent. James watched her, that same mixture of desire and awe blooming in his chest again. She was gorgeous. She was dangerous.

And she was hunting.

When she spotted her, James knew it before she even spoke. Melena’s gaze held for a beat too long, a smile playing on her lips.

“Behind you,” she said softly. “Don’t stare. Just turn around slow.”

James did, casually—and saw her.

Emily.

A woman seated alone in a velvet booth, a cocktail in hand, legs crossed elegantly. She was blonde—shoulder-length hair in tousled waves, lightly tanned skin with a radiant, healthy glow. Her body was lithe, athletic, the kind that spoke of yoga and long swims in saltwater. She wore a simple white slip dress, low in the back, showing off toned arms and the soft curve of her collarbone. Gold bangles clinked softly as she swirled her drink.

And she was watching them.

She smiled when James caught her eye, then shifted her gaze deliberately to Melena.

Melena turned on her stool and faced the dance floor. “Come on,” she said, taking James’s hand again. “Let’s give her a show.”

They danced slowly, hips moving in sync, her body close—closer than it had been at dinner. She pressed her back to his chest, her arms raised, swaying against him as the music slowed. He slid his hands over her hips, letting his fingers graze the side slit of her dress. She arched slightly into him, her head tipping back onto his shoulder, eyes half-closed in pleasure.

When she turned in his arms, she wrapped hers around his neck and kissed him—slow, open, sensual. When she pulled away, her breath ghosted across his lips.

“She’s watching.”

James looked past Melena’s shoulder.

Emily stood just off the dance floor now, holding her drink, smiling at them. Her eyes were bold and full of invitation. Melena looked too, then stepped back from James slightly, holding out her hand—not to him, but to her.

Emily hesitated only for a second, then walked forward.

Up close, she was even more stunning. A scattering of faint freckles dusted her shoulders, her eyes were ocean blue, and there was a mischievous curve to her lips.

“I’m Emily,” she said. Her voice was warm, husky, with an accent James couldn’t place—Australian, maybe?

“Melena,” she replied, “and this is James.”

“Pleasure,” Emily said, her gaze drifting over them both. “You two are very ... captivating.”

“We were hoping to be,” Melena murmured.

They danced.

Emily fit into the rhythm like she belonged there—first with Melena, their hips brushing, hands exploring lightly, then with James, her back to his front, her hand on his cheek as she leaned in to whisper something neither of the women repeated.

They took turns. Touches grew slower, more intimate. Melena’s hand slid to the small of Emily’s back. James found himself between them, hands resting at their waists. At one point, Melena’s fingers laced with Emily’s right in front of him, and he saw them both smile—at him, at each other, at the heat blooming steadily between all three of them.

When the song ended, Emily leaned into Melena and brushed her lips lightly against her ear.

Melena smiled.

Then she turned to James.

“I think,” she said, her voice low and husky, “we’ve found our dessert.”

The three of them slid into a booth in the far corner of the club, its plush red velvet curved around a low table where their drinks waited—fresh ones now, topped with mint and crushed ice, the condensation running slowly down the glass like sweat down bare skin.

Emily crossed her legs, her dress parting just slightly to reveal a length of thigh that both Melena and James noticed. She smiled at the two of them, tracing the rim of her glass with one manicured finger.

“So,” she said, settling in, “how long have you two been together?”

Melena laughed softly, glancing at James with amused warmth. “About four hours.”