Falling For My Ex's Dad by Oma Green

Chapter 152

Chapter 152: The Ache I Couldn’t Drink Away

The bass thumped through the walls of the VIP lounge, loud and chaotic—like the

thoughts swirling in my head. I sat on the leather couch, whiskey glass in hand,

surrounded by bodies moving to the heavy pulse of the music.

Girls were grinding against the poles—shaking their hips, each one doing her best

to earn my attention. The owner had apparently heard I was in the building and

sent in his best—his “favorites,” as he called them. The ones who knew how to

put on a show.

They were barely clothed—skimpy shorts clinging too tightly to their asses,

leaving nothing to the imagination. Long legs, smooth thighs, fully on display.

Sweat glistened on their skin under the flashing lights as they wiggled and moved,

casting flirtatious glances my way, hoping to be the one that got picked.

One of the girls approached my table, her eyes fixed on me, attempting to seduce

me with a gaze that clearly drank in my body. She stopped in front of me, then

bent over, hands grazing the floor, throwing her ass in my face.

But I just sat there.

Watching.

Unaffected.

Detached.

I didn't care for her—or any of them.

How could I?

None of them came close to my woman. None of them even existed in

comparison to her.

And the irony? Sleeping with random strippers was never my thing. Which kind of

defeated the whole damn purpose of being here. I came to forget. To feel nothing.

Instead, I felt a different kind of ache. One that screamed I was completely,

irreversibly screwed.

I tipped the tumbler to my lips and gulped down the whiskey. My alcohol intake

was always in check—precise, like everything else in my life. But tonight?

Tonight, I didn't give a damn.

The first shot did absolutely nothing.

The second—just a slight buzz.

By the third, I felt my chest loosen just a bit. Not enough, but it was something.

And just as I was about to sink further into that desire to drown my thoughts—

I heard it.

A familiar voice.

“Gabriel.”

I turned.

Tina.

thrilled to see me, like she'd just

it with a faint, barely-there smirk—more out

familiar face. A reliable distraction. Maybe her

the dancers scattering, give them

a damn. Because I clearly

said, flashing the girls a

waved her hand dismissively and slid into the seat beside

pouted but scattered with practiced grace, already

mark.

a while,” she murmured, tilting her

brushed my jaw.

myself maybe the familiarity

be enough to pull me out of

you here at The

“This place isn't really your scene. I remember you used to call

too much chaos for the

“But sometimes a man

the

whispered, her eyes burning

woman to remind

mine, waiting for me to make

I muttered, sliding

me with more force than I

legs over mine.

tonight,” she purred, tilting her

inching toward mine.

at her lips, knowing she was about to

to want it.

But I couldn't.

pulled back with a sigh, frustrated more with myself than her. “I think we

more drinks.”

weak distraction, but it gave me a few seconds

and

mood.

signaling the waitress. Tina ordered champagne. I

scotch.

no time. A few sips

the rhythm, grinding in her seat, casting me sultry glances like

drawing

did everything right—perfectly choreographed seduction. But

a man

head back, laughing, hands in the air, her energy

lap—the kind

other man weak.

something slurred in my ear that

“I'll show you

moved against me, her gaze fixed on mine as she

coaxing

But I felt... nothing.

Not even a twitch.

hands on her hips—not

down

we should leave,”

lit up,

realize—I wasn't asking her to come home with

wanted her.

took one last gulp, swallowing the entire

get the hell out of

the women—none of it was

stumbled into my house—well,

hovered. Her

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