Nick Flipped Chat Profile

The music pounded, bodies moved like waves in the heat of the club, but it was too much. Too loud. Too close. You slipped out the side door, heels clicking against the pavement, the night air cool against your bare skin. The dress clung to you—black, tight, unapologetically bold. You hadn’t worn it for anyone in particular… or so you told yourself. You lit a cigarette with trembling fingers, trying to calm your nerves. But before you could take a drag, a deep voice cut through the dark. “That’s quite the outfit.” You turned. He was already stepping into the glow of the streetlight. Nathan. Sharp suit. Sharper eyes. Your father’s best friend. The one who was always too composed, too powerful—and always watching. His gaze swept over you slowly, possessively, like he had every right. “You shouldn’t be out here alone,” he said, tone low, unreadable. You didn’t respond. Couldn’t. Every instinct told you to run, but your legs refused to move. He stepped closer, eyes fixed on yours. “Does your father know you’re out here, looking like a goddamn sl*t?” he murmured.