Bass vibrated through the floorboards, rattling the half-melted ice in my lowball glass. Heat pressed against my skin, a thick mix of expensive cologne, spilled gin, and the sweet, herbal smoke of Witek's vape. Sweat beaded along my collarbone under the suffocating weight of the crowded room. I loosened another button of my linen shirt, trying to catch a breath of cool air that didn't exist in this packed penthouse. Gloria leaned her weight into my side, her fingers tracing tight, possessive circles on my thigh. Her nails were painted a sharp, metallic crimson that caught the ambient neon red light casting over the living room. "You're quiet tonight," Gloria murmured, her voice carrying that sharp, glassy edge she always got when she had too much champagne. She pressed her lips to my jaw, her breath warm and smelling of mints and alcohol. "Are you even here with me, Antek?" "Always," I lied, forcing a smile that didn't reach my eyes. My jaw ached from clenching it all night, the synthetic high we had chased earlier making my teeth grind in a tight, nervous rhythm. Across the low glass coffee table, Witek slumped on the leather sofa, his arm slung carelessly around Gabi's shoulders. They looked like a picture-perfect couple from a glossy magazine, completely at ease in the chaos. Ten years ago, the arrangement had been entirely different. Back then, I was the one holding Gabi in the dark corners of high school hallways, sharing cheap beer and whispering promises we had no business making. Witek had been Gloria's first love, the boy who broke her heart and left her running into my arms for comfort. Somehow, over a decade of messy breakups, drunken tearful phone calls, and desperate compromises, we had swapped partners. We had rebuilt our lives in this neat, fragile square, pretending the past was just a funny story we told at dinner parties. Our foundation was built on dry kindling. "Pass that bottle, Witek," Gabi said, her voice cutting through the heavy hum of the bass. She didn't look at Witek; her gaze was locked on the smoky green bottle of premium Mezcal resting on the table. Witek groaned, barely shifting his weight on the plush leather. "Get it yourself, baby. My legs are completely dead from that workout today." Gloria let out a soft, mocking laugh. "Always the athlete, Witek. Can't even reach for a drink for your own girlfriend." Gabi rolled her eyes, a familiar, impatient gesture that sent a sharp pang straight to my chest. She reached forward, her silk emerald dress slipping slightly off her shoulder as she leaned over the table. Her fingers wrapped around the neck of the bottle. Instead of pouring it into a glass, she locked her dark eyes directly onto mine. Time seemed to slow down, the thumping bass of the party fading into a dull, distant roar. Slowly, deliberately, Gabi brought the bottle to her lips. She flicked her tongue out to catch a stray drop on the rim before she took a long, steady sip of the smoky liquor. My breath hitched. My throat went completely dry. She swallowed, her throat moving in a smooth, elegant line, her eyes never releasing me from their grip. She knew exactly what she was doing. Memories rushed back with the force of a physical blow. I could taste the sharp, burning smoke of that same cheap agave we used to steal from her father’s cabinet, the sticky sweetness of her skin, the dizzying rush of my first real obsession. It was a suffocating wave of nostalgia, so thick I could barely breathe. I wanted to reach across the table and pull her to me, to erase the last ten years with a single, desperate touch. "Antek." Gloria's voice was a sudden, icy needle popping the bubble. I blinked, my chest heaving as I looked down at my current girlfriend. Gloria's hand on my thigh had tightened, her manicured nails digging painfully through the fabric of my trousers. Her eyes were wide, glittering with a dangerous, possessive heat as she stared back and forth between Gabi and me. She had seen it. She always saw everything. "You're doing it again," Gloria whispered, her voice dangerously low, meant only for my ears. "You're looking at her like she's something you still own." "I'm just tired, babe," I muttered, my heart hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird. A terrifying thrill shot through my veins at her accusation. It was the thrill of being caught, the realization that my decade-long devotion to Gloria—my sweet, stable, protective shield—was nothing more than a lie I told myself to forget the girl across the table. I had never stopped wanting Gabi. Not for a single second. Witek sat up suddenly, rubbing his eyes and reaching for the Mezcal bottle Gabi had just set down. "Damn, that stuff smells like a campfire. Give me some of that." "Careful," Gabi teased, her voice dripping with a playful, sharp energy that always drove me crazy. "We wouldn't want you passing out before the night even really starts." "Please," Witek scoffed, pouring a generous shot into a plastic cup. "I can handle my liquor. What I can't handle is how crowded this place is. There's literally nowhere to sneak off to." His eyes darted toward the hallway where a line of people waited for the only bathroom. The penthouse was packed to maximum capacity, bodies grinding against bodies under the dim red lights. Gloria shifted, leaning closer to me, her breast pressing against my arm. "Witek's right. It's frustrating. The energy in here is... intense tonight." Her hand slithered up my chest, her fingers playing with the collar of my shirt. She wanted me, but she wanted me as a statement. She wanted to mark her territory in front of Gabi. "Everyone is horny when they're this high," Witek laughed, taking a deep gulp of the Mezcal. He looked at Gabi, a lazy, suggestive grin spreading across his face. "Though some of us don't need a quiet room to get what we want." Gabi laughed, a throaty, sensual sound that made my jaw clench. "Oh, shut up, Witek. You wouldn't last five minutes in a crowded corner." "Is that a challenge?" Witek grinned, nudging her shoulder. Gloria let out a soft, scoffing sound. "Please. As if either of you has the patience for that. It takes a certain level of... dedication to make it worth the risk." "And I suppose you have that dedication, Gloria?" Gabi asked, her tone shifting from playful to dangerously sharp. She leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand, her eyes flashing with old rivalry. "I know exactly how to keep my man satisfied, Gabi," Gloria replied instantly, her voice dripping with venomous confidence. Her grip on my neck tightened, her fingers tangling in my hair. "Antek never complains. In fact, he usually begs." My face flushed hot. The exhibitionist nature of the conversation was fueling the drugs in my system, making my pulse race. Witek let out a low whistle. "Oof. Shots fired." "That's cute," Gabi said, her lips curling into a mocking smile. She took another slow sip of her drink, her eyes darting to me for a fraction of a second before locking back onto Gloria. "But there's a difference between keeping someone satisfied and actually knowing what you're doing. Some people just go through the motions." Gloria stiffened beside me, her body turning rigid. "Are you implying something, Gabi?" "Just stating facts," Gabi replied smoothly. "Some women think they're amazing just because their partner is polite. But real skill? Real technique? That's rare." "I have never had a single complaint," Gloria hissed, her possessive pride wounded. "Ask Witek. He certainly remembered how I did it." Witek choked on his drink, coughing as his face turned red. "Whoa, let's not bring the ghost of Christmas past into this." "No, let's," Gloria challenged, her eyes locked on Gabi. "Since Gabi thinks she's the undisputed queen of oral sex. I know for a fact I can blow anyone out of the water." "Please," Gabi laughed, a cold, dismissive sound. "You're too uptight, Gloria. You always have been. You worry too much about your hair, about your makeup, about looking perfect. You can't give yourself over to it. I, on the other hand, know exactly how to use my mouth to make a man lose his absolute mind." My blood turned to molten lava. The mental image of Gabi—of her mouth, of her hands, of the way she used to look up at me through her eyelashes—flashed in my mind with agonizing clarity. "Is that so?" Gloria challenged, her voice dropping an octave. She looked at Witek, then at me, her eyes wild with a reckless, drug-fueled competitiveness. "Maybe we should put it to a vote." "Are you insane?" Witek laughed, though his eyes were wide with a sudden, dark curiosity. "How the hell are we going to test that in a crowded penthouse?" "We find a way," Gloria said, her gaze sliding to me, her hand sliding down my stomach toward my belt. "Or we let the men who have had both of us decide." Silence fell over our small circle, heavy and charged with a suffocating tension. Witek stared at Gloria, his throat bobbing as he swallowed hard. The memory of their past intimacy was clearly playing on his face. Gabi didn't look at Witek. She didn't look at Gloria. She looked at me. Her eyes were dark pools of ancient promises and unresolved lust. She knew my secrets. She knew my body better than Gloria ever would, no matter how many years Gloria spent trying to claim me. "Well, Antek?" Gabi murmured, her voice a soft, purring challenge that cut through the noise of the party. "You've had both of us. Who do you think is better?" My heart hammered against my ribs so hard it felt painful. My hands were shaking, and I had to grip my glass tighter to hide it. Gloria's hand was still hovering near my belt, her fingers twitching with a desperate, angry need for validation. She wanted me to say her name. She wanted me to humiliate Gabi in front of everyone to prove that she had won the swap. But the lie was dying in my throat. "This is stupid," I muttered, trying to laugh it off, trying to find an escape route. "We're all too high. Let's just get another drink." "Answer the question, Antek," Gloria demanded, her voice shaking slightly. The possessive grip she had on me was slipping, and she knew it. She could feel the distance between us, the invisible thread pulling me toward the other side of the table. "Come on, man," Witek said, his voice tense, trying to play it cool but failing miserably. "Don't leave us hanging." Gabi stood up slowly. Her green silk dress clung to her curves, shifting like liquid as she moved around the low table. She didn't walk away. She walked straight toward our side of the couch. Gloria watched her approach like a cat cornering its prey, her body tense, ready to strike. But Gabi ignored her entirely, stepping into the narrow space between the sofa and the wall, right next to where I sat. Scent of her perfume—vanilla, sandalwood, and the sharp bite of Mezcal—invaded my senses, drowning out everything else. She leaned down, pretending to reach for a dropped napkin near my feet. Her shoulder brushed against mine, a spark of static electricity shooting straight down my spine. My entire body went rigid. As she bent over, her hair fell forward, shielding her face from Witek and Gloria's direct line of sight. She was mere inches from my ear. I could feel the warmth of her breath against my neck, sending shivers straight down my spine. "Tell Gloria you still remember how I taste, or I will do it for you."

Chapter 1: A Taste of Stolen Vintage