"Louis, where's my other earring?" Jovienne called out, rifling through the small jewelry box on her vanity. The soft glow of the bedside lamp illuminated her face, a mix of concentration and mild frustration as she searched for the perfect finishing touch to her outfit.

"It's on the nightstand, next to your book," Louis replied from the closet, his voice muffled as he adjusted the cuffs of his suit jacket.

Jovienne turned and spotted the earring, letting out a small huff. "I swear you have a sixth sense for finding things I've misplaced."

"Or maybe I just pay attention," Louis teased, stepping into the room. He was already dressed, his tailored charcoal suit accentuating his lean frame. "You look stunning, by the way."

Jovienne paused, catching his reflection in the mirror as he approached. She was wearing a sleek black dress with an open back, the fabric hugging her figure elegantly. A pair of silver earrings now dangled from her ears, catching the light with each movement. Her hair was swept up in a loose bun, with a few strands framing her face.

"Do I?" she asked, her tone light but her eyes seeking his approval.

Louis came up behind her, placing his hands gently on her shoulders. "You always do," he said softly, pressing a kiss to her temple.

She smiled, a brief but genuine moment of connection between them before the evening ahead. "You clean up well yourself, Mr. Dean."

"Had to, didn't I? Devin's wedding is kind of a big deal," Louis said, adjusting his tie. "And you're close to him, so I have to make a good impression."

Jovienne laughed, turning to face him. "You don't have to impress anyone. Devin already likes you. Besides, it's not like you're meeting him for the first time."

"True," Louis said with a smirk. "But it's still a wedding. Gotta look the part."

The venue for Devin Oliver's wedding was a stunning mix of modern chic and romantic elegance. Floor-to-ceiling windows let in the evening light, while soft candlelit tables dotted the space. Jovienne walked into the room with her usual confidence, her heels clicking purposefully against the marble floor.

"Jovi!" Devin called out, his face lighting up as he spotted her. He made his way over, leaving his bride momentarily behind.

"Devin," Jovienne greeted him, pulling him into a quick but genuine hug. "You look... presentable. Almost like a groom."

He laughed. "I'll take that as a compliment coming from you." He turned to Louis, shaking his hand. "Good to see you again, Louis. Thanks for coming."

"I wouldn't have missed it," Louis said warmly.

"Congratulations, by the way," Jovienne added, gesturing toward Devin's bride, who was surrounded by guests. "She hasn't come to her senses and run yet. Impressive."

Devin shook his head, chuckling. "Always the charmer, Jovi."

"I do my best," she said with a smirk. "Now go back to your bride before she realizes how much better she could've done."

Devin laughed and walked off, leaving Louis to shake his head at her. "You're unbelievable."

"I know I am," she said with a smirk.

As the evening unfolded, Jovienne glided through the room with an air of effortless confidence, her sharp wit leaving a trail of both admiration and annoyance in her wake. Guests were drawn to her like moths to a flame—though some quickly regretted venturing too close to the heat. Louis remained nearby, a calm counterbalance to her audacious presence, though he often found himself stifling a laugh at her unrelenting sarcasm.

After finishing a cuttingly witty exchange with Rory's sister that left the woman torn between amusement and annoyance, Jovienne turned away, her sharp gaze scanning the crowd with the air of someone perpetually unimpressed. The smirk tugging at her lips faltered for the briefest moment as her eyes landed on a group entering the room—Matt, Nicholas, and Noah, the latter with Moriah's hand tucked comfortably in his. Jovienne's smirk returned, sharper and more deliberate this time, as though she had found a particularly juicy target for her brand of sardonic amusement.

She accepted another martini from Louis without looking, her manicured fingers brushing his as she brought the glass to her lips. Her smirk widened slightly, the glint in her eyes unmistakable.

Louis caught her expression and chuckled knowingly, leaning in closer. "I see your favorite band has arrived."

"Oh, definitely my favorite," Jovienne replied, her voice dripping with exaggerated enthusiasm. She tilted her head slightly, watching as Matt scanned the room, his eyes already searching for her.

Louis sipped his drink, his tone casual but teasing. "Should I start timing how long it takes Matt to come groveling?"

"Please," Jovienne said with a wave of her hand. "The man is as predictable as a cheap thriller. He'll give it a few minutes to look 'natural' before he starts circling."

Louis laughed softly. "Poor guy. He has no idea what he's walking into."

"Poor? Please," she said, raising an eyebrow. "He's lucky I even remember his name."

Her gaze flicked back to the group, landing on Noah, who was leaning down slightly as Moriah said something to him. He smiled, his attention entirely on her, and then he glanced up as if sensing Jovienne's eyes on him.

Their gazes locked.

Noah's lips curved into a smirk—slow, confident, and faintly mocking—as if he were daring her to look away first. His hand tightened slightly around Moriah's, a deliberate move that wasn't lost on Jovienne. Her expression didn't falter, her smirk only sharpening in response as she raised her martini glass in a subtle, silent toast.

"Careful," Louis murmured beside her. "You're starting to look like you're enjoying yourself."

"I am," Jovienne said smoothly, though the glint in her eyes betrayed something more challenging, more calculated.

Noah finally broke the eye contact, turning his attention back to Moriah, who was now smiling warmly at him. He leaned in to whisper something into her ear, earning a soft laugh and a quick kiss on the cheek. Jovienne's smirk twitched, her grip on the martini glass tightening ever so slightly.

"You okay?" Louis asked, catching the subtle shift in her demeanor.

"Never better," she replied breezily, tossing her hair over her shoulder. "Though I might need another drink if I'm going to endure this parade of mediocrity much longer."

Louis laughed, shaking his head. "You're insufferable."

"And yet," she said, finishing her drink and handing him the empty glass, "you're still here."

Louis rolled his eyes but dutifully headed for the bar to grab her another drink. As Jovienne leaned casually against the high-top table, scanning the room with detached amusement, she noticed Matt making his way toward her. His determined expression was enough to tell her exactly what this was about. She sighed inwardly, swirling the martini in her hand as she prepared herself for yet another round of his persistence.

"Jovienne," Matt greeted her, stopping just short of her personal space. His tone was polite, but there was an undeniable edge of frustration beneath it.

"Matt," she replied smoothly, her lips curling into a faint smile. "Enjoying the wedding?"

"I'd enjoy it more if we could talk for a moment," he said, cutting straight to the point.

Her smile didn't falter, but her eyes sharpened slightly. "Talk? Or are you about to pitch me again?"

Matt hesitated, his expression hardening slightly. "I just think you should reconsider my offer. You didn't even answer to any of my messages."

Jovienne tilted her head, her tone still polite but edged with finality. "Matt, I appreciate your enthusiasm. I really do. But I made my decision, and I was clear about it. I'm not interested."

"Why?" he pressed, his voice lowering as if to avoid drawing attention. "You'd be a perfect fit for the project. The band respects you. Hell, we all do."

She took a measured sip of her martini before answering. "It's not about respect. It's about priorities. And, frankly, I don't see this as the best use of my time right now."

"Your time?" he echoed, frustration seeping into his voice.

"Yes," she said firmly, though her tone remained calm. "I'm focused on other projects that excite me, ones that I believe in. It's not personal, Matt. It's business."

Before he could respond, a familiar voice interjected from a few feet away.

"Trouble in paradise?"

Jovienne turned her head to see Noah standing nearby, his arm draped casually over Moriah's shoulder. His smirk was as irritatingly confident as ever, his dark eyes gleaming with amusement.

"Oh, absolutely," Jovienne said, matching his smirk without missing a beat. "Matt here is trying to convince me to change my mind. Again."

Noah chuckled, clearly enjoying the situation. "And how's that going for you, Matt?"

Matt shot Noah a warning glare but didn't reply. Jovienne, however, turned her attention to Moriah, who stepped forward with her usual warm smile.

"Jovienne, it's so good to see you!" Moriah said sincerely. "You look amazing, as always."

Jovienne's expression softened just slightly, her tone less cutting. "Flattery from you is almost believable, Moriah. I'll take it."

"Almost?" Moriah laughed, shaking her head.

"Don't take it personally," Jovienne added with a small smirk. "I don't trust anyone who's too nice. Feels like a trap."

Noah raised an eyebrow at that, his smirk widening. "Maybe you're just suspicious because you'd never dream of being too nice yourself."

Jovienne tilted her head, her smile sharpening. "Why waste time pretending to be something I'm not?"

"Fair point," Noah said, nodding as though conceding.

"Now, if you'll excuse me," she said with a pointed glance at Noah, "I'm sure there are more thrilling conversations to be had elsewhere."

Noah's smirk deepened, his gaze lingering on her as she walked away, leaving behind the tension and the faintest trace of her perfume.

Jovienne weaved her way back through the buzzing crowd, her sharp heels clicking softly against the polished floor. She spotted Louis by the terrace doors, his broad frame a comforting silhouette against the warm glow of the wedding lights. His face lit up the moment he saw her approaching, and she felt a rare, genuine warmth bloom in her chest.

"Miss me already?" Louis teased, his lips curving into a smile as he extended a hand toward her.

"Always," she quipped, placing her hand in his. The playful smirk she wore softened as she allowed him to pull her closer, his other arm slipping around her waist.

"You're glowing," he said, his voice quieter now that they were close.

"Must be the lighting," she replied dryly, though the hint of a smile betrayed her.

"Nope," Louis countered, leaning down so his forehead nearly touched hers. "Definitely you."

She rolled her eyes but let herself relax against him. "If you keep saying things like that, I might start thinking you're sweet."

"I am sweet," he replied, brushing a kiss against her temple.

Her smirk widened, but she didn't pull away. The music from the dance floor floated toward them, soft and melodic, blending with the murmur of laughter and clinking glasses. Devin and his bride were at the center of the floor, swaying in a romantic slow dance that had captured the attention of nearly everyone in the room.

Louis nodded toward the dance floor. "You want to join them?"

Jovienne glanced at the happy couple, then back at Louis. "Do I look like the type to waltz around in heels and a martini dress?"

"No," he admitted with a laugh. "But I had to try."

"Keep trying," she said with a wink, resting her head briefly against his chest.

They stayed like that for a moment, the quiet between them filled with the soft hum of celebration. Louis gently rubbed her back, his touch grounding her in a way that felt rare and precious.

"Did Matt talk to you again?" he asked after a moment, his tone casual but laced with curiosity.

"Of course he did," she replied, pulling back just enough to meet his gaze. "I told him no. Again."

"Good," Louis said firmly.  "He's too pushy, and you don't need the stress."

"Stress?" she echoed with mock incredulity. "Me? Never."

Louis chuckled but his expression remained serious. "I mean it, Jovi. You already work too hard. You don't need another project."

She tilted her head, studying him for a moment. "You're protective tonight," she noted.

"Always," he said, his voice soft but sure.

Jovienne felt her smirk soften into something gentler. She leaned up and kissed him, slow and deliberate, savoring the way he steadied her in a world that often felt too chaotic.

The evening unfolded in a blur of laughter, music, and clinking glasses. Devin and his bride were radiant as they moved through the crowd, stopping to chat and take photos with their guests. Jovienne found herself drawn into conversations with old acquaintances and a few strangers who were bold enough to approach her.

Louis stayed close but let her work the room, knowing she thrived on the energy of social settings. Her sharp wit and biting humor made her a magnetic presence, and he couldn't help but watch her with a mix of amusement and admiration.

As the night went on, the dance floor filled with guests swaying to both slow ballads and upbeat hits. Moriah was among them, twirling and laughing with a group of friends while Noah leaned casually against a column, his dark eyes observing the scene with quiet intensity.

Later, as the festivities began to wind down, Jovienne found herself at the bar, ordering another glass of drink. The air was heavy with laughter, faintly slurred voices, and the distant rhythm of music.

She barely acknowledged the sound of someone stepping up beside her, but a flicker of a shadow in her peripheral vision told her exactly who it was.

"Can't stay away, can you?" she remarked without looking up, already sensing who it was.

"Not even close," Noah replied smoothly, leaning one elbow on the bar.

When she finally turned her head, he was already watching her. His loosened tie hung slightly askew, and the top buttons of his shirt were undone, revealing his tattoos. The faint sheen of sweat on his skin, combined with the disheveled elegance, gave him a reckless charm that was maddeningly hard to ignore.

"Don't you have something better to do?" she asked, her eyebrow arching in challenge.

"Not really," he replied, leaning an elbow on the bar as his lips curved into a smirk. "The party's winding down, and honestly, this is the most fun I've had all night."

"How flattering," she said dryly, though her eyes gleamed with amusement.

"I try," he shot back, his gaze flicking briefly to her lips before meeting her eyes again. "You seem to be enjoying yourself. Or is that just the martini talking?"

Jovienne tilted her head, her smirk widening. "If I were depending on this party for entertainment, I'd be long gone."

He smirked, his dark eyes glinting as they met hers. "You know, for someone who claims to dislike us, you sure keep ending up in the same rooms as us."

"Coincidence," she said with a shrug, taking a sip of her drink.

"Or fate," he teased, his voice dropping just slightly.

She let out a dry laugh. "If fate exists, it definitely has a twisted sense of humor."

He studied her intently, his smirk faltering into something sharper, his dark eyes narrowing as if he were peeling back her layers, trying to get a glimpse of whatever was beneath. "You know," he said, his voice steady but carrying a dangerous edge, "Matt's been driving himself crazy over you. But here's the thing—we don't need you."

Her brow arched, a flicker of amusement lighting her eyes. She said nothing, taking a deliberate sip of her drink as though his words were barely worth a response.

His gaze didn't waver, the sharpness in his tone matching the glint in his eyes. "Our album's going to be great, with or without you," he continued, his voice dropping slightly. "Matt's the only one who can't seem to let it go."

Jovienne tilted her head, the barest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. She leaned slightly closer, enough for the faint scent of her perfume to brush the air between them, but kept her tone light, teasing. "Of course it's better without me," she said smoothly, her words deliberately slow. "That's why Matt can't stop insisting I join. Makes perfect sense."

Noah's smirk returned, curling at the edges of his mouth as their eyes locked. For a moment, neither of them said anything, the tension between them crackling like static electricity, sharp and magnetic. The din of the room seemed to fade, leaving only the unspoken challenge passing between them.

Noah's smirk returned, his jaw tightening for a split second before he leaned in just slightly, his confidence palpable. "Matt's relentless, sure, but the rest of us? We've moved on. Honestly, you'd probably just slow us down."

She let out a soft, disbelieving laugh, her head tilting as if to study him. "That's cute. Really. Coming from someone whose band thrives on predictable riffs and manufactured angst."

He chuckled dryly, shaking his head, but the sharp glint in his eyes didn't waver. "Predictable? You've got some nerve saying that when your whole thing is being too good for everyone else."

"Not everyone else," she corrected with a shrug, her voice light but pointed. "Just you."

The corner of his mouth twitched, his smirk deepening as their gazes locked. "I think you like the attention, Jovienne," he said, his tone quieter now, almost daring. "Matt chasing after you. All this 'too good' talk. Admit it—you enjoy keeping us on edge."

She took a deliberate sip of her drink, her gaze not leaving his for even a second. "Why wouldn't I? Watching you squirm is one of the few joys I get out of these tedious social obligations."

He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a low murmur. "Careful, or someone might think you care a little too much."

She tilted her head slightly, her smirk widening. "About you? Not a chance. But seeing you waste your energy trying to prove something? Now that's entertainment."

Noah's laughter was quiet, almost a hum, but there was a tension in it. He straightened slightly, his dark eyes scanning her face. "You know, for someone so sure of herself, you sure spend a lot of time looking over your shoulder. What are you so afraid of?"

"Afraid?" she echoed, raising an eyebrow. "Of you? Don't flatter yourself."

"No, not me," he said smoothly. "Failure. Disappointment. That little nagging voice in the back of your head telling you maybe you're not as untouchable as you think."

Her smile didn't waver, but there was a flicker of something in her gaze—sharp, calculating. She stepped closer, her tone razor-edged as she replied, "And yet, here you are, spending your night dissecting me instead of enjoying your success. What's the matter, Noah? Not as confident in your greatness as you claim?"

The tension between them felt like a live wire now, taut and buzzing with unspoken challenges. He smirked, but his voice was quieter, more deliberate. "I don't need your approval to know we're good. Our album's going to be killer—with or without you."

"Good for you," she said smoothly, lifting her glass in a mock toast. "Maybe you should tell Matt that and save him the trouble."

"Maybe I will," he shot back, his smirk unwavering.

They locked eyes for a moment longer, the tension between them crackling like static electricity, sharp and magnetic.

He leaned slightly closer, just enough for her to notice the faint crease at the corners of his eyes as his smirk deepened. "You're really enjoying this, aren't you?" he asked, his voice quieter now, almost a murmur.

Her lips curved into a sly smile, her confidence radiating as she tilted her glass toward him in a mock toast. "Immensely," she replied, her tone dripping with amusement and dismissal.

For a brief second, their gazes remained locked, an unspoken dare simmering in the air between them. Then she turned with effortless grace, her heels clicking against the floor as she walked away without a backward glance, leaving him standing at the bar.

Noah's smirk lingered, but there was a faint tension in the set of his jaw as he watched her retreating figure disappear into the crowd. Her words hung in the air, sharp and lingering, the kind that stayed with you long after the conversation ended.

.

Lying in bed next to Louis, who was sound asleep, Jovienne stared at the dark ceiling above her, replaying the conversation with Noah over and over in her mind. His words echoed in her ears, biting and dismissive: "We don't need you." The way he said it, so calm and assured, sent a spark of irritation through her chest every time she thought about it.

She glanced at Louis, his chest rising and falling steadily. His peaceful demeanor was in stark contrast to the restless storm brewing inside her. Her thoughts spiraled. Noah's smug confidence wasn't just insulting—it was a challenge.

He thinks they don't need me. He thinks they can do better without me.

The idea almost made her laugh out loud. If that were true, why would Matt be so insistent? Why would he keep reaching out, practically begging her to collaborate? Even Noah, with his maddening arrogance, had to know what she was capable of. He would never admit it, of course, because of his ego. Admitting her worth would mean ceding control, and Noah Sebastian wasn't the type to do that.

She turned onto her side, staring at her phone on the nightstand. The screen glowed faintly in the dark, and her reflection stared back at her from the black glass.

He knows I'm the best at what I do. That's why it drives him crazy when I say no.

Her fingers curled into the sheets, her frustration simmering into determination. When Noah said they could do better without her, it wasn't just false—it was laughable. She knew they couldn't, and deep down, so did he.

And that's what made her decision so easy.

I'll show him, she thought, her lips curving into a sly smile. I'll prove him wrong. I'll wipe that smug smirk off his face and make him regret every single word he said.

She reached for her phone, the cool metal and glass smooth against her palm. Opening her chat with Matt, she scrolled through the flood of unread messages. Apologies, updates, and pleas—all of which she had ignored. Until now.

Jovienne tapped the message box, her nails clicking softly against the screen as she typed. Her finger hovered over the send button, her pulse quickening. For a moment, she let herself hesitate, considering whether this was the right move. Then she hit send.

The message disappeared into the ether, a simple text with the weight of a declaration. She placed the phone back on the nightstand and exhaled, a sense of satisfaction washing over her.

She knew exactly what she was doing. She wasn't joining for Matt, or the album, or even the music. She was doing it for herself—to prove a point, to shut Noah up, to show him just how wrong he was.

Turning onto her back again, Jovienne stared at the ceiling, her smirk lingering as the possibilities of her decision played out in her mind. In the darkness, with Louis still sound asleep beside her, she felt the spark of something she hadn't in a while—a thrill, anticipation, and the promise of a battle she was determined to win.

"Count me in."