The bass thumped like a second heartbeat as the team stepped out of the car, the warm night air brushing against their skin. Ahead, the Eclipse VIP Club glowed like a jewel carved from the skyline—sleek, pulsing, alive.
The line snaked down the block, a sea of velvet and heels, but Stacy didn't even glance at it. She moved with quiet authority, the kind you earned, not were handed. She was dressed like someone who didn't need permission—and the bouncer knew it instantly.
"Evening, Ms. Holloway," he said, straightening, his voice tinged with respect.
With a subtle grin, Stacy nodded. He unhooked the velvet rope and swung the door open wide, letting them slip past a hundred hopefuls with ease.
"Damn, Boss," Noah whistled. "You didn't say you ran the place."
"This is insane," Jenny breathed, her eyes wide. "I've seen this club in magazines."
"Feels like we just stepped into a movie," Steven added, grinning.
-
Inside, Eclipse was a sensory storm—beams of light slicing through the shadows, bodies moving like tides beneath the music. On the mezzanine, VIP booths overlooked the dance floor like royal balconies. Stacy led the team up plush stairs, their shoes muffled against the velvet.
Their booth was perfection—half-moon leather seating, low golden lighting, and a panoramic view of the club's pulsing heartbeat below. Moments later, servers arrived with chilled champagne, custom cocktails in jewel-toned glasses, and neon shots, balanced delicately on trays lit from beneath.
Stacy slid into the booth last, raising her glass.
"Drinks are on me tonight. Order whatever you want," she said, her eyes glimmering with the unspoken promise that there would be no limits.
Zoe laughed, her eyes already gleaming. "You're gonna regret saying that with this crowd."
The group erupted in cheers, clinking glasses, shouting overlapping toasts to long nights, impossible deadlines, the chaos they'd endured—and the miracle they'd pulled off. Victory had never tasted so sweet.
-
Minutes blurred in a haze of music and movement. The team spilled onto the dance floor, swept up in neon lights and bass-heavy beats. Jenny danced like she was chasing a second wind, pulling Steven along with her. They laughed, twirled, bumped into strangers—no coordination, just chaos and joy. Drinks blurred the edges of the night, and by the time the song switched for the fifth time, Jenny's energy had drained.
Later, a tray of tequila shots spun its way to the table. Salt. Lime. Liquid courage. Jenny, somehow revived, curled into Steven's lap, still singing off-key.
"Noah!" Zoe snapped her fingers near his ear. "Stop pretending you're asleep. You've gotta earn your nap."
He groaned, lifting his head sluggishly. "If I take this shot, can I die in peace?"
"Shot first, death later," Jenny giggled, swaying.
Zoe passed a shot to Stacy, their fingers brushing. A quick, electric touch. Stacy didn't flinch.
"To the weirdest, wildest team in the business," Zoe toasted, raising her glass high.
"To Ms. Holloway," Jenny added dramatically, slurring. "Who walks through velvet ropes like she built the place."
Stacy arched an eyebrow, murmuring, "Fireworks are extra. Miracles are weekday rate."
"Cheers!" Zoe shouted.
Salt. Tequila. Lime. Grimaces. Laughter. The chaos of the night settled into joy.
Zoe leaned in close to Stacy, her voice quieter now.
"You didn't have to do all this," she said.
"I wanted to," Stacy replied simply.
"You're hard to read, you know. Half the time, it's like... you're playing a role. The boss. The fixer."
Stacy turned to her, a quiet curiosity in her eyes. "And the other half?"
Zoe shrugged, a wine-stained blush creeping across her cheeks. "Feels like maybe you want someone to see through it."
For a long breath, Stacy didn't speak. Then, quietly, "You already did."
The words hung in the air, unspoken, raw. The silence stretched, but it was anything but empty.
-
A few more shots and dancing passed.
Jenny slumped against Steven, her voice heavy with champagne and exhaustion.
"Babe... can you take me home? I think my legs declared independence."
Steven chuckled and kissed her temple. "Come on, lightweight. Let's get you out before you start body-rolling on the speakers again."
She grinned. "I was expressing myself."
"You were almost escorted out by security."
"We should get going babes, or I might max out our CEO's credit card" Jenny laughed.
Steven nodded. "Thanks for tonight, seriously."
Jenny grinned at Stacy. "Especially for the booze, Boss. You've officially earned a gold star and my undying loyalty."
Stacy smirked. "Glad to know tequila buys loyalty these days."
Zoe raised her glass. "Get home safe, lovebirds."
Jenny gave a sleepy wave to Zoe, then gently patted Noah's head. "Goodnight, sweet prince."
Noah snored in response.
Steven chuckled. "Perfect. See you guys soon."
Then they disappeared into the crowd—Jenny pausing to throw in one last dramatic spin on the dance floor.
Noah had long surrendered to sleep, his head cradled in crossed arms at the booth's edge.
Only Zoe and Stacy remained.
The music shifted, and the atmosphere loosened its grip.
Stacy lingered near Zoe, lips parting—then pressing shut again. A beat passed. Then she tried.
"Zoe?"
Zoe turned toward her, warm-eyed. "Yeah?"
Stacy hesitated, gaze flicking downward before meeting Zoe's again. "About what happened in the boardroom after the pitch, I—"
🎵 You're just too good to be true... Can't take my eyes off of you... 🎵
Zoe gasped, her face lighting up like a spark had caught.
"Oh my god, I love this song!" she laughed, eyes going wide with excitement. Then, without missing a beat—"Stacy—come dance with me!"
Stacy blinked, caught between surprise and amusement. "You go, I'm not that drunk yet to dance." she said, smirking, her voice laced with playful defiance.
"Well, I am," Zoe grinned, already sliding out of the booth. "No turning back now."
She vanished into the crowd like a spark catching fire—hips swaying, hands in the air, singing every word. Lights kissed her skin as she moved, wrapping her in gold. She was radiant, alive in every motion. The music didn't just carry her—it belonged to her.
Stacy stayed behind, watching.
At first, it was easy. Amusing. A quiet smile tugged at her lips.
But then something shifted.
Zoe wasn't just dancing. She was glowing.
She moved with joy so effortless it seemed to lift her off the ground.
The lyrics poured through her like sunlight through glass.
Her hips caught the beat. Her arms stretched toward the ceiling.
Laughter broke from her like a bell.
The rhythm didn't just live in her—it loved her.
And suddenly, everything else dimmed.
The crowd blurred. The music softened to a distant thrum.
The universe itself had shifted—just to make room for her.
All Stacy could see was Zoe.
Zoe, laughing without restraint.
Zoe, beautiful, wild, and devastatingly free.
She wasn't watching her employee anymore.
She was watching the woman who had quietly, irreversibly, become her world.
Every move Zoe made tugged at something Stacy had locked away.
Each flicker of her smile chipped at the walls she'd built.
The pitch was over. The pressure had faded.
No more roles to wear. No more distance to fake.
Only this—
The quiet rhythm of her own heart, finally heard in the hush between the notes.
She was done hiding.
Done pretending she didn't feel it.
She wanted to let go.
To fall.
To be known.
Stacy set her glass down.
And stood.
The air shifted.
Not one person noticed—but Zoe would.
She moved through the crowd, steady and sure, drawn by something deeper than want.
And just as she reached her—Zoe turned, breathless and bright.
"Changed your mind—?"
She didn't finish.
Stacy reached for her.
And kissed her.
Right there.
On the dance floor.
In the middle of her favorite song.
The crowd dissolved.
The lights dimmed.
The music faded.
And the world stood still.
Zoe froze—then melted.
Softly. Fully.
Stacy leaned in, her lips brushing Zoe's like a question—then claiming her with the certainty of someone who already knew the answer.
It was a kiss that silenced the world.
No club.
No team.
No deadlines.
Just this.
Zoe gasped gently against her lips—surprised, but not unready. Her hands slid up Stacy's jacket, fingers curling into the fabric. Holding on.
Their mouths moved together—slow at first, curious, tender.
Then deeper. Hungrier.
Like the dam had finally cracked.
Like every unsaid thing was spilling free between them.
Strobe lights caught pieces of them—blue across a cheekbone, red beneath a lash. But they barely noticed.
Around them: nothing.
No music.
No noise.
Just the storm.
And the stillness at its center.
Just them.
It was everything they hadn't said—spoken in the language of touch, of breath, of surrender.
The kiss breaks—slowly, reluctantly—as the music thrums around them like a second heartbeat.
For a breathless moment, neither says a word. Their foreheads rest together, eyes closed, the world around them reduced to shared warmth and shallow breaths in the thick, electric air.
Zoe's laugh slipped out like a sigh at the edge of a dream.
"I didn't see that coming," she murmured, her voice soft with wonder.
"But it felt like something out of a story I forgot I believed in."
Stacy's gaze didn't waver, her smile tender and real.
"Maybe it's not the end of a story," she said. "Maybe it's the start of ours."
They linger there—bathed in pulsing neon, the bass echoing like distant thunder. Stacy lifts a hand, gently tucking a stray lock of Zoe's hair behind her ear. Her fingers pause there, tender, as if memorizing the shape of her.
Zoe leans in slightly, brushing her thumb gently across Stacy's lower lip.
Her voice is quiet—teasing, but edged with real fear, real hope.
"Tell me that wasn't just the tequila."
Stacy doesn't look away. Her smile is small, but sure.
"It wasn't."
Zoe exhales, her shoulders relaxing as if the weight of waiting has finally melted away. The club hums around them—laughter, movement, music—but it feels far off, unreal. Nothing touches them now except each other.
She tilts her head, the edge of a grin flickering to life. "Well... that kiss almost made up for all the moments you made me wait."
Stacy's eyes don't waver. "I'm sorry it took me so long," she says, voice rich and real. "Let me spend every day making up for it—if you'll let me."
Zoe studies her, searching for hesitation and finding none. And after a beat, she nods. "You'd better," she replies, smile blooming wider.
Stacy laughs quietly, a sound full of joy and promise. "Then let's get out of here. I want to start writing that story."
-
Back at the booth, Stacy leans down and gently shakes Noah awake.
"Noah, come on. You're going to wake up with a neon bracelet imprinted on your forehead."
Noah mumbles without opening his eyes: "Tell the DJ I love her..."
Zoe laughs, warm and carefree. "Leave him. He'll survive."
Stacy pulls out her phone, texting quickly. "My driver's swinging back to take him home. He's earned the royal treatment."
Zoe grins. "VIP hangover service. Classy."
"Only for the people I care about," Stacy replies, her gaze lingering on Zoe as they head for the door.
They step out into the cooler night air, the city glittering around them like a promise. A sleek black limo waits by the curb, glossy and silent. Stacy opens the door with a gesture.
"My place. It's closer."
Zoe raises an eyebrow, teasing. "So this is what VIP treatment looks like."
Stacy's smirk is softer this time. "Only for you."