The low-watt bulb buzzed over the pool table, and Jeff Wulkan was already three drinks deep when the door at the far end of the back room swung open and Lena walked in wearing something that made the room go quiet for half a second.

The dress was black, cut low enough to show the tops of her breasts, slit up one thigh to the hip, and it caught the light like wet lacquer as she moved. She knew exactly what she was doing. She'd always known. Her dark hair was loose tonight, falling in waves past her shoulders, and her heels clicked against the concrete floor with the unhurried confidence of a woman who had never once wondered if she was wanted.

Jeff set his glass down on the edge of the pool table. The condensation had left a ring on the felt, and he watched her eyes find him across the room before he moved.

Bella was somewhere behind him, laughing at something one of the models had said, her voice bright and unguarded in a way that made his chest do something inconvenient. He didn't turn around. He kept his eyes on Lena, on the way she was already walking toward him, on the smile that was already forming on her lips like she'd rehearsed this exact moment.

"Jeff," she said, stopping close enough that he could smell her perfume — something floral and expensive that he remembered from the last time. "You throw a party and don't call?"

"Didn't think you'd come." He said it with a grin, easy, his hands finding her shoulders and squeezing once before letting go. "You look incredible."

"I know." She laughed, and it was warm, genuine, the kind of laugh that had gotten her into his bed three times before. "I brought some friends. Hope that's okay."

He glanced past her. Two girls stood by the door, younger, early twenties maybe, both in dresses that were trying hard to be as confident as Lena's and not quite making it. They were watching the room like they'd never seen a party like this before. He gave them a nod, a smile, and they relaxed slightly.

"Course it's okay. My place, your friends, all good." He took her elbow, steering her gently toward the bar, positioning himself between her and the rest of the room. "You want a drink?"

"What are you having?"

"Macallan."

"Then I'll have that." Her hand found his arm as they walked, fingers curling into the fabric of his linen shirt, and he felt the familiar pull of it, the old hunger rising in his chest like a tide he'd thought he'd learned to swim against.

He poured her a glass, his hands steady, and leaned against the bar so he could watch the room. The back room of Jeff's Place was crowded now, models and their friends packed into the space, the worn pool table abandoned in favor of bodies and music and the low hum of conversation. The rattling vent above them pushed cold air down, raising goosebumps on bare arms and thighs, and the vinyl booth seats were sticky with spilled drinks and the heat of the night.

Bella was across the room, talking to a blonde model Jeff had worked with last season. She was wearing a simple white dress, her hair pulled back, and she looked like the only real thing in a room full of beautiful ghosts. She caught his eye and smiled, and he felt something settle in his chest.

Then Lena leaned into him, her mouth close to his ear.

"That her?" she asked, and there was nothing in her voice but curiosity. "The one you told me about?"

Jeff took a sip of his drink. "Yeah."

"She's pretty." Lena said it like she meant it, and then she pulled back, her eyes tracking across the room. "Young. Clean. I see the appeal."

"Lena." His voice was careful now, measured. "I need you to hear me on something."

She turned to face him fully, her glass in her hand, her expression open and patient. "I'm listening."

"Bella's my girl. My main girl. That's not going to change." He met her eyes, held them. "Whatever we had before, that was before. I'm not looking for anything with you except you being here tonight, having a good time, and being cool. That's it."

Lena's smile didn't waver. She raised her glass, took a slow sip, and set it down on the bar between them. "No problem," she said. "I get it. You found your girl. I'm happy for you, Jeff. Really."

Her hand found his arm again, squeezing once, and her smile held a half-second too long.

Something cold threaded through his chest — a splinter of unease he couldn't quite name. He watched her eyes flick across the room to where Bella stood, and back to him, and there was something in her gaze that made the back of his neck prickle.

"You good?" he asked.

"I'm great." She reached past him for a napkin, her body brushing his, and when she pulled back her smile was perfectly pleasant. "I'm gonna go say hi to some people. Thanks for the drink."

She walked away, hips swaying, and Jeff watched her go with a feeling he couldn't quite shake — the sense that he'd just made a deal with someone who had already decided the outcome.

He took another sip of his drink. The ice clinked against the glass. The vent rattled. The low-watt bulb buzzed overhead.

Bella appeared at his side, slipping her hand into his, and the cold thread in his chest loosened.

"Who was that?" she asked, nodding toward Lena's retreating back.

"Just a model from the show last season." He kissed her temple, easy, natural. "She brought some friends. Said hi."

"She's very pretty."

"She's not you." He said it without thinking, and Bella's smile softened, and he felt the warmth of her hand in his and wondered how many more lies he could tell before the weight of them crushed something he couldn't get back.

The party swelled around them. Someone turned up the music. A girl laughed too loud near the pool table. The room was full of bodies and heat and the smell of perfume and sweat and the low electric hum of a night that was still rising.

Jeff pulled Bella closer, her back against his chest, her head tilted up to look at him, and for a moment — a single, clean moment — he let himself believe he could have this. That he could be the man she saw when she looked at him. That the hunger in his chest had finally found its answer.

Then he caught Lena's eye across the room, and she smiled, and raised her glass to him.

He raised his back.

Somewhere above them, the bedroom was waiting.

Bella turned in his arms, her fingers finding the collar of his linen shirt, straightening it with a small, intimate gesture that felt more like a claim than any words could have been. "You look tired," she said, studying his face. "Not the good kind of tired either."

"Long week." He said it into her hair, breathing her in — clean soap, a hint of the coconut oil she used in her hair, nothing like the floral perfume still lingering where Lena had stood. "Show stuff's been hell. The lighting rig came in broken, two models threatened to quit, and the warehouse sent the runway platform to the wrong address."

"Saturday, right?" Her thumb traced the line of his jaw. "You'll pull it together. You always do."

"Yeah." He wanted to believe her. He wanted to be the man she was describing, the one who pulled things together, who fixed what was broken, who didn't stand in his own back room watching a woman in a black dress work the room like she was already counting the spoils. "I always do."

Lena had found a group by the pool table — two of the models from the show, a couple of girls Jeff didn't recognize, and one of the friends she'd brought in. She was laughing at something, her head thrown back, her hand resting on the shoulder of the girl next to her. She looked like she belonged here, like she'd always belonged here, and maybe that was what made the cold thread in his chest tighten again.

She'd been in his bed three times. She knew the sound he made when he came. She knew the way he liked his ass eaten, the way he liked to push a girl's face down into the mattress and take her from behind, the way his hands shook afterward when the hunger finally let him go. And now she was standing in his back room, twenty feet from the woman he'd told her was his main girl, smiling like she'd already won something.

"Jeff." Bella's voice pulled him back. "You're doing that thing again."

"What thing?"

"That thing where you go somewhere else." She was watching him with those clear eyes, the ones that saw too much. "Where do you go?"

"Nowhere." He kissed her forehead, a quick, easy gesture. "Just thinking about the show. The lighting rig's been on my mind all day."

"You want to talk about it?"

"No." He pulled her closer, her body warm against his. "I want to stand here with you and not think about anything for a while."

She laughed, soft and low, and leaned into him. "That's a first."

"Don't get used to it."

The music shifted — something slower, a bass line that pulsed through the floor. The crowd by the pool table parted, and Jeff saw Lena moving through it, her path curving toward the bar, toward them. She wasn't looking at him. She was looking at Bella.

"Hey," Lena said, arriving with a smile that was all warmth and no teeth. "I don't think we've been introduced. I'm Lena." She extended her hand to Bella, and Bella took it, her grip easy, unguarded.

"Bella."

"Bella." Lena repeated the name like she was tasting it. "Pretty name. Jeff's told me about you."

Jeff's hand tightened on Bella's waist. "I told you she was my girl."

"You did." Lena's smile didn't waver. "And she's even prettier than you said. You're a lucky man." She turned back to Bella. "Jeff and I worked together on the spring show last year. He's a good director. Demanding, but good."

"He's demanding about a lot of things," Bella said, and there was a flicker of something in her voice — amusement, maybe, or a warning. Jeff couldn't tell.

Lena laughed, genuine-sounding. "I bet he is. Well, I'll let you two enjoy the party. Good meeting you, Bella."

She walked away, and Jeff watched her go, his jaw tight, his hand still on Bella's waist. The cold thread in his chest had become a knot.

"She seems nice," Bella said.

"She's fine."

"She looked at you a lot."

Jeff took a sip of his drink, the ice clinking against the glass. "She's a model. They all look at you like that. It's how they get cast."

"Mm." Bella didn't sound convinced. She turned in his arms, her hand flat against his chest, her eyes searching his face. "You sure there's nothing I should know about her?"

He could have told her. The words were right there, sitting in his throat — the three times, the way Lena had laughed when he'd told her about Bella, the way she'd said his name in the dark. He could have opened his mouth and let all of it out, and maybe the knot in his chest would have loosened, maybe the cold thread would have dissolved, maybe he could have stood in his own back room and felt clean for the first time in weeks.

Instead, he kissed her, slow and deliberate, and when he pulled back her eyes were soft and trusting.

"Nothing," he said. "There's nothing you need to know."

The music swelled. Someone cheered near the pool table. The vent rattled overhead, pushing cold air down on his bare arms, and Jeff held Bella close and watched Lena move through the crowd, her black dress catching the low light, her smile a half-second too long every time she looked his way.

Somewhere above them, the bedroom was waiting.