He cheated i chose two firefighters novel Chapter 19

Chapter 19

Scar’s POV

Dear Diary

I’ve finally got the keys to my condo, and I’m buzzing. Summer, Maisie, and I went on a full- on shopping spree–couches, tables for every room, bedroom furniture, dining set, living room pieces, lamps, a new bed, and a couple ridiculously comfortable chairs. We grabbed linens and towels after that, and food came last. I cooked dinner for them to say thanks.

That’s the bright part of today.

The ugly part is my bank account. My money is shrinking fast. I haven’t been as careful as I should have been, and honestly, it’s hard to pinch pennies when everything feels like

freedom. I need a job–or something that pays, period. I’ve combed through job listings until my eyes hurt and there’s nothing for nutritionists or personal training. I don’t know what I’m going to do.

***

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“Ready for Club Uno?” Summer called as she strolled into my living room.

We’d swapped spare keys–convenience, emergencies, whatever. She paused, scanning

1. me. “Wait. Why aren’t you dressed?”

My hair was done. My makeup was done. And then I’d checked my balance and felt my

stomach drop.

“I’m basically broke,” I told her. “After I bought the condo, I had enough to coast for six

months. But we’ve been eating out nonstop for two weeks, going out, doing things… and

furnishing the place? I’ve got maybe a month left in savings. I didn’t realize how fast it

would all drain.”

Summer’s smile sharpened. “Then Club Uno is exactly where you need to be.”

I frowned. “How does that help?”

“It’s a casino,” she said, like it was nothing. “But you don’t gamble with cash. You gamble with dares. And the people there? Loaded. You can dare almost anything. The more dares

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you complete, the more you get paid.”

My pulse ticked up. “What kind of dares? What if someone dares something insane–like hurting someone?”

“No,” she cut in. “Everything is legal and consent–based. But you are going to want

condoms.”

“Oh. I’m covered.”

I headed for my room and opened my closet. On a shelf sat box after box after box. I

grabbed one and tore it open.

Summer followed me in and barked a laugh. “Did you buy out the entire store?”

“After Gavin,” I said dryly, “I learned I need to be prepared for anything. Anywhere.”

She lifted her purse and gave it a little shake. “Same. I keep at least five on me at all times.”

I exhaled and nodded toward my closet. “Fine. Pick my outfit. If this place really pays, I

need it.”

For the next thirty minutes, she ran me through half my dresses like a stylist on a mission.

Finally she lit up. “That one. Absolutely.”

I glanced down at myself. “Isn’t it too much?”

“It’s casino night,” she said. “Too much is the point.”

Only then did I really look at her. She was in a floor–length satin dress almost like mine- hers a deep wine red, mine a soft peach. Spaghetti straps on both. She wore black heels with red soles; I’d gone with silver strappy sandals. My hair was curled and spilling to my waist, one side pinned with a silver rose clip that caught the light like it was sprinkled with diamonds. Summer had her curls too, the front swept back and pinned on top.

We looked… dangerous.

“Come on,” she said, grabbing her clutch. “Tonight it’s just us. Maisie and Gavin are in

Paris.”

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I stopped mid–step. “Paris?”

“Runway show,” she said. “Same modeling agency. They’re working tonight.”

I could only blink. “Their lives are unreal.”

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Forty minutes later we pulled up to Club Uno. We flashed our cards at the entrance. I tucked mine into my clutch beside my lipstick and ten condoms–because at this point I’d

learned not to tempt fate.

Inside looked like a luxury casino dropped into a dream. Everything gleamed. Everyone

looked expensive. Poker tables lined the space, roulette wheels spun, and every corner

seemed designed to make you forget what time it was.

A hostess handed each of us a number. Mine read 13.

I let out a slow breath. Please be lucky. Just once.

“Welcome to Club Uno,” purred a woman in a microscopic dress with red hair piled high and

cleavage that refused to be contained. She was tall, all legs, and could have walked a

runway without trying. “Pick a table and enjoy.”

Summer peeled off toward poker. I drifted to roulette.

A server in a black thong and purple pasties weaved through the crowd with a tray. I took a

champagne flute and sipped.

Peach.

My favorite.

Seven other players joined the table–four men, four women–plus the dealer in his crisp

uniform, stationed beside the wheel with the tiny white ball poised between his fingers.

“Here’s how it works,” he announced. “I spin to choose the first darer. Hold your numbers

where I can see them. If the wheel selects you, you choose a number and assign a dare. If

you’re dared, you complete it. The more dares you complete, the more you’ll be paid at the

end of the night. If you refuse or fail, you’re done.”

He gestured at the wheel. “Only your numbers are active. The rest are blocked out. Good

luck.”

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The wheel whirred. The ball clicked and danced.

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While everyone tracked it, I took in my tablemates. Attractive across the board. A couple were clearly older–two men around their fifties, and one woman who looked about the

same.

The wheel slowed.

It stopped on eight.

Number eight was one of the older men. He scanned the circle until his gaze settled on

twelve: a young, muscular guy with sandy hair and green eyes–movie–star handsome, like a

young Brad Pitt.

“Twelve,” eight said, voice calm. “I dare you to kiss the woman on your left. With tongue.

Fifteen seconds minimum.”

Twelve glanced at the older woman beside him and gave a cocky little smirk like he’d been

handed a free drink. He did it without hesitation.

The wheel spun again.

Two.

Number two was the older woman who’d just been kissed. She pointed directly at me.

“Thirteen. Suck on number one’s left nipple.”

Number one was an Asian woman with long, straight black hair and a strapless white

cocktail dress. Small breasts, but her nipples were unmistakable beneath the fabric–either

cold or excited.

I smiled at her and circled around the table. Her strapless dress made it easy; I slid it down just enough for her breasts to pop free. Then I leaned in, traced her nipple with my tongue, and pulled it into my mouth.

Her breath hitched. She moaned, head tipping back.

I heard a couple of the men swear under their breath. One of the women laughed like she

was enjoying the show.

When I was done, I eased her dress back up, gave her a quick reassuring look, and returned

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to my seat like I belonged there.

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