Jasmine heard Sammy enter the kitchen behind her, but didn't immediately turn as she placed the bowl of ice cream on the granite counter top.

"Let's go out, have dinner and hit a club afterward."

Jasmine turned with a frown finding him dressed in his Samuel clothes–slacks, buttoned dress-shirt and matching blazer. He looked posh and handsome as ever, ready to go out.

"I want to stay home tonight. We had dinner out with Cristiano two days ago." She reminded him, crossing her arms over her chest.

Still upset over that evening, everything about that night, from the start, bothered her and she couldn't shake the feeling of watchful eyes following her until they made it back to the hotel.

Relief rushed through her and Jasmine was more than eager to finish the night as she and Sammy stood bidding Cristiano and Alessandra a goodnight and thanking them for a pleasant evening.

"That went well, don't you think?" Sammy asked, as they waited outside the restaurant waiting for Sammy's Ferrari to be brought around.

Jasmine shot him a glance. "Yes, it was splendid."

"Come on, it wasn't too bad."

"No, it wasn't bad, it was horrible. One of the worst dinners and some of the worst company I've ever had to endure. I wish you never accepted his invitation. Poking the bear was a big mistake. He was about ready to kill you."

"He deserved what was coming! He can't go around and act like he's the bomb and treat everybody else like dirt. I love how that pompous, no-good, hottie got his knickers in a twist. I think I did a fine ass job of ticking him off!"

A ice cold finger touched her spine as she and Sammy walked to the awaiting car brought around by the valet and got in. The strange feeling felt primal, even unsettling. Jasmine stopped, and looked around not trying in the least to be discreet.

Sammy noticed.

"What's wrong?" He asked.

She peered passed the parked cars and bystanders and saw nothing out of the ordinary. It was dark, a stiff warm breeze picked up and the stars were out. Jasmine forced herself to breathe deeply and exhale.

It was those same eyes, she could feel it.

Shaking her head she said, "Nothing. Let's go."

The car alarm beeping was a starling sound in the silent night just as she felt a crawling sensation between her shoulder blades. There was no way her conscious mind was playing tricks on her without turning back around for another look.

She knew.

She was being watched. Again.

Jasmine shook off the memory.

Her head had been a constant throb off and on since then. To make things worse she became increasingly irritable and the chill that entered her body wouldn't let her be. However, she found the reason why she felt so awful–she got her period. Bloated, pale, and uncomfortable, she worked in the hotel over the weekend and refused to venture out, not wanting to feel the same evil eyes prickle the little hairs on the back of her neck.

On top of it all, she had no desire to get dolled up for a night out. It was exhausting to pretend all the time. Living the lie and putting on a show for whoever was watching to see if they'd slip up. She was in no mood for all these mind games.

"You're not serious! I'm here on my vacay!" Stomping his foot like an agitated child. "London is notorious for their crazy party clubs! Besides you owe me!" He declares, pointing a finger at her.

Her irritation was beginning to rise but she capped it, trying to be civil before she snapped. Jasmine shook her head and exhaled loudly emphasizing her displeasure. So he was going to play dirty, was he? Pulling out an I owe you card. She did owe him for his help but when someone orders her to do something, it pulls a trigger telling her to do the opposite especially with her hormones bouncing all over the place. She could swear she could slaughter an entire army with the anger and rage coursing through her and the last person that deserved her backlash was Sammy.

"I feel like dog shit, Sammy. Let's do it another day." Her argument was brittle, she knew, but she didn't have the heart to tell him to go to hell. She felt terrible as it was.

"If we wait for another day, my services may not be available then."

"Services?"

"I'll apply your make-up, do your hair and dress you. You wouldn't have to do a thing but sit there and look pretty. Who would say no to that kind of offer?" He declares, placing fisted hands on his waist, his right eye twitching as if waiting for her to refuse so he'd combust.

Jasmine's response was to yawn. And then to her delight, Sammy straightens and covers his mouth with a closed fist to yawn too. She stifles a giggle as she watches him.

"Don't you dare!" He snapped, as she was ready to let out a hearty yawn again. It was true what they say: a yawn was contagious.

Jasmine contained the yawn in her throat, the muscles in her neck and mouth aching with the effort and turned ready to go to her room for another miserable, torturous night.

Sammy and Jasmine had a quiet meal at a French restaurant and over indulged in too much champagne for her, and too many martinis for him. The alcohol had both overtaken them, finding themselves giggling at the blue neon lights of the Sapphire club the taxi driver dropped them in front of. Sammy tips the bouncer a hundred dollar bill discreetly and nods in a masculine way. The tall, burly bouncer unclamps the red velvet rope automatically.

Jasmine hesitated at the threshold, unease filtering through her. She immediately didn't like the club as Sammy led her by the hand like a lost child. The little hairs on her neck rose. There was something about the place she instantly disliked.

Usher's "Yeah!" Song greets them as they enter. Sammy leads them directly towards the bar. The entire club was dimmed, LED indirect strip cove lighting outlined the ceiling in blue. The whole vibe of the club was emphasized in blue, reflecting the name of the club, Sapphire.

She noticed cameras everywhere, watching over the clubs inhabitants.

Jasmine and Sammy squeeze through the maze of people and sit on stools at the bar. "How did you know about this club? I've never heard of it." She nearly shouted above the loud music.

"I was feeling a little down since I took in Coco to the vet. The doc said she was dehydrated and I had to leave her there looking like shit. Her droopy round eyes killed me. They had tubes in her . . ." Sammy waved a hand dismissively like he couldn't continue.

Jasmine noticed his eyes mist and it melted her heart. Deep down, he was a softie.

"I needed to get my mind off her so I googled my symptoms, turns out I just need a martini and a good party club."

"I don't particularly like coming to clubs. Seems kinda desperate. I mean don't people come to them to get picked up or something?" Jasmine asked him.

"I don't know why men go to bars to meet women. Honestly, I go to clubs to get my weekly exercise by dancing. In America, you go to fücking Target. That place is full of women, buying crap they don't need."

Jasmine shakes her head and quickly orders a glass of champagne from a handsome smiling bartender.

"Coming right up, darling." He says, sending her a wink.

Jasmine's eyes blur from too much alcohol coursing through her system. It numbed her problems for the meantime. She hadn't thought once about Cristiano or his evil eyes. She was drowning her problems with alcohol, dulling the worry and fear.

The man switches his gaze on Sammy who smiles.

"I'd like a martini honey, and don't waste any space with those olives!"

The bartender chuckles with a nod.

Jasmine and Sammy turn on their stools and survey the crowds. The club was classy and upscale and looked new as she roamed her gaze all over the place. The occupants appeared to not have care in the world, unlike her. People were dancing on the swamped dance floor. Men were grinding on women and vice versa. Scrunching her nose in distaste, the club smelled of sweat and alcohol.

Private seating was lined along the walls. Men in suits engaged in conversation, sipping from their preferred drinks. Other private suites held men and women dressed impeccably, socializing or celebrating. She noticed a group of ladies, dressed in skimpy dresses celebrating a woman with a crown and a sash draped over her shoulder and waist with the words 'Bride' written in gold.

Jasmine sighed melancholy. She wished she was there celebrating something exciting. A pang of jealously jabbed her stomach. She couldn't remember the last time she felt carefree and happy.

The entire club was loud with chatter and music pumping through the speakers stationed in the corners along the ceiling. Jasmine earned a few suggestive smiles and winks as men passed by her. She could only manage a smirk every now and then, discouraging their advances when she looked away quickly. With no intention of gaining anyone's attention, she swiveled back to the bar and accepted her champagne which was placed neatly over a cocktail napkin. Out of the corner of her eyes, Sammy was casually sipping his martini bobbing his head to the music and eyeing men greedily with this beady eyes.

"I'm single as a dollar, and I ain't looking for no damn change!" Sammy says, snapping his fingers at a handsome man that passes by him, the man, oblivious of his interest.

Jasmine shook her head again. At least one of us was having a good time, she thought. Her fake engagement ring sparkled in the low lights, still loose on her ring finger. The annoying disco ball flickered all around and reflected off the ring causing her to wince and want to shade her eyes. She remembered to slip it on her finger just before they left the penthouse. It only reminded her of the lie and turn of events occupying her life.

She watches Sammy trying to gain the man's attention, waving his fingers flirtatiously and giggling behind his hand.

"Samuel, we're supposed to be in love remember? Stop checking out guys when we're together." She reminded him.

"Oh shit, right. Keep walking, sir, keep walking!" Sammy emphasized at the man's back who either ignored him or didn't notice Sammy checking him out.

She sighed and turned to snatch her glass and drown her sorrows down her throat. At least she would find comfort in something, she thought snickering softly and saluting herself as she brought the glass to her lips once more. It was snatched from her fingers before she could take a sip.

"Hey!" She exclaimed in displeasure.

"Let's put on a show. I didn't come here just to watch." Sammy declares, discarding their glasses, taking her by the arm and leading her to the dance floor.

Jasmine didn't put on a fight or argue as he twirled them around. Her drunken mind was blurred from too much champagne. They laughed and danced through two songs as if they didn't have a care in the world. Jasmine shook her hips and ran both hands through her hair, lifting it at the sides to accentuate her moves. For the first time in forever, she felt free, like she was soaring in the air. Nothing but euphoria rushed through her veins, sweat accumulated at her temples while the glare of the disco ball moved sensually over her skin.

"Whoooohooooo!" Sammy hollers, bobbing his head while shimming to the beat. "That's it baby! Feel it!"

Sammy's outburst reached her ears, waking her from her drunk stupor and slowly inches closer to him. Her dress hiked up her thighs and she quickly pushed at the delicate fabric. She never noticed it before but she suddenly felt like she was on display and her dancing gained interest. As drunk as she was, Jasmine could feel the pressure on her skin from people watching her–especially men. She gazes around the club, seeing men watching her from every direction. They eyed her like a hawk. She was attracting attention, attention she was never comfortable receiving. Unease settles in her gut, she reaches over to take Sammy's hand, feeling exposed and vulnerable.

It wasn't just their eyes making her uncomfortable. It was something else and she couldn't but her finger on it.

"Stay beside me, Sammy. Remember we're supposed to be engaged. Those guys over there," she practically shouts over the music and nodding her head past him, "are going to start hitting on me if they believe we're only friends."

Sammy bobs his head in agreement while enjoying the new song, California Girls by Katy Perry and comes up behind her and grinds into her waist seductively. "This is our song, feel it, girl, feel it. Feel all of it." He whispers in her ear, wrapping an arm around her waist and grinding into her bottom.

Jasmine's eyes widen in slight disbelief for just a moment and leans back, her arm came up automatically to circle Sammy's neck, molding their bodies until not an inch separated them. Their display should be enough to all the men saying she was taken and not available. His hard chest pressed into her back feeling safe in his arms. The way Sammy was slowly dancing and dry humping from behind her was so surprising she almost felt like they were a real couple and all this wasn't pretend.

His attention was only for her. They way he held her claimed her as his. Knowing the effects of alcohol were dulling her senses Jasmine played along and pretended it was real. Forgot this was all a farce. That a man cared for her, that a man was dancing with her, wanted her for himself. Suddenly, she twirled around and wrapped her arms around his neck, their fronts flush, his head low, hers tilted upwards.

Jasmine forgot about the men, the loud music, and lost herself to the sensations coursing through her blood. She could see nothing else, feel nothing else. Deliberately, Sammy bent his head further as if ready to kiss her. She opened her mouth ready to receive his kiss.

They were a man and woman caught in a weak moment of drunken intoxication.

She wasn't thinking, only feeling. She didn't care, she wanted to lose herself, she wanted to be kissed, to feel cherished, loved. Even if it was all pretend she wanted it to be real. She wasn't Jasmine at that moment. He wasn't Sammy but Samuel, this other man, a straight handsome gentleman who she is engaged to.

Sammy's roamed his hands over her back, grasping, caressing and slipped further downward, until he rested them above the round globes of her bottom as if willing himself not to slip down and grope them. Their heads were still very close, lips inches apart, suspended in the air before they breached the line that separated them.

"Jazz. . ." Sammy whispered in warning.

"Kiss me." Jasmine requested, eyes half-lidded ready to lose herself and her sanity.

It wasn't right, but she didn't care. She was wild, out of control. Nothing mattered to her but this moment of insanity, caught in the moment. When Sammy's lips descended on hers it was a shock to her system. She asked of course, but a part of her believed he was the one with enough sense not to give in. It appears he was more drunk and out of his mind than her.

The kiss was butterfly-like, brushing over hers ever so lightly. Jasmine's hands clenched on his shirt when his hands squeezed her butt, pulling her close. She gasps and Sammy's tongue enters her mouth and as soon as their tongues met, Jasmine froze like a block of ice, her eyes widening. Sammy froze too as he just came to his senses.

They broke apart quickly and stared at one another in silent shock. Both their eyes were so wide they looked like they were ready to pop out of their heads. Sammy quickly breaks eye contact and whips his head right and left, standing tall and erect, adjusting the lapels of his jacket. He grabbed her arm and dragged her to the back of the club to the washrooms and pushes her inside, locking the door behind them and rushed over to the sink.

"That had to be the worst first kiss in existence!" He snaps. "No wonder I like men! If that's how all females kiss than I'm glad I'm gay!"

Jasmine barely caught her breath, struggling to slow down her pounding heart and leaning against the door for support. She shook her head to rid herself of the daze and make her blurry eyes adjust to what just transpired between them. Meanwhile, Sammy was making spitting noises as if their brief exchange of spit disgusted him, leaning over the running faucet and splashing his face.

"If you continue doing that, you'll be spitting out your tongue in no time." She declares, crossing her arms over her chest and watching him in disbelief.

Sammy rested his hands on the edges of the sink.

"You sure know how to make a girl feel cherished." She muttered.

His dark eyes clashed with hers in the mirror. "You kissed me!" He accused, snatching paper towels from the dispenser and dried his mouth.

Jasmine straightened, a spike of Adrenalin and violence flooding her.

"I kissed you?!? You're the one that pushed your tongue into my mouth! You're the one who grabbed my ass and squeezed!" Jasmine pulls her hands back and grabs her butt emphasizing her words. "Pardon my obvious observation but it looked like you were lost in the moment more than I was! So don't go around blaming me!" She shot back, pacing the back and forth, her heels clicking with every step.

"Shit!" Sammy exclaims, straightening and checking himself out in the mirror. His diamond suds twinkled and his dark goatee was stark against his clear skin. "For a second there, you nearly scared me straight! What a fücking disaster that would have been to the world and all the hot guys waitin' for me to grace them with my presence. Look, don't you ever tell my future husband about this. Better yet, don't tell a living soul that I kissed you."

"Why?"

"It'll ruin my reputation." Sammy fists his hand with only his pinkie finger curved and sticking out. "Let's pinkie swear on it."

She frowns and abruptly stops pacing. He was serious. Jasmine almost laughed if she didn't know he meant it. "It sucked anyway. It was your first straight kiss and mine too."

Their secret was closed upon a pinkie swear.

"A sexy bitch like you never really had a man make a pass at you?" He asks, perfectly arched eyes brows raised with their pinkies still clasped.

Her gaze jumped from their pinkies to his face. Jasmine answers with a shake of her head and shrugs. "Nobody except Russo. He tried to kiss me in the elevator but I dodged his attempt."

They release their pinkies.

"Since we're on the subject of Russo, I have a itty bitty confession to make. There's a reason we came to this particular club." He announces, all serious, looking guilty. "I couldn't tell you cause I knew you would never agree to come. . ."

A chill swept down her back as her muscles locked in place. She knew, she wasn't going to like what he was about to confess. Jasmine braces herself for the worst and holds her breath in wait of his explanation feeling her heart leap into her throat.