Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 66217 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 331(@200wpm)___ 265(@250wpm)___ 221(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66217 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 331(@200wpm)___ 265(@250wpm)___ 221(@300wpm)
The club itself is exactly as it used to be when I’d come here all the time, first with a fake ID that Zayne sourced and then legally at twenty-one: bumping music, a packed dance floor, and a VIP section that circles the top and is filled with private booths that allow us to people watch like modern-day royals looking at our subjects.
Michelle appears in front of me, looking even better in person than she did in the video. She pulls me into a tight hug. “You really came.”
“I said I was going to.”
“Yeah, but this is twice in a week. How many times have you cancelled in the last year?”
Shame heats me as I realize she’s right. I’ve been going through the motions in more ways than one. I give her a bright smile. “All that changes now. I’m here. Let’s do it like we did in the old days.” Not that I ever allowed myself to go as hard as she did. But maybe that changes now. I’m single, stalker or no.
“That’s my girl.” She hooks her arm through mine. “Zayne already claimed our customary booth. Drinks are on the way.”
I lift my brows. “Then what are you doing down here?”
“Just getting a closer look at the options.” She grins. “But it’s early yet. We have time to do our picking later.”
Michelle practically drags me to the dramatic staircase leading up to the VIP section. Our booth is right in the center, though there’s more than enough privacy to encourage getting up to illicit deeds. Zayne lounges in the middle of it, arms outstretched across its curved back.
He smirks when he sees me, the pretty bastard. “Look who the ball and chain let out.”
“No more ball, no more chain.” Michelle releases me to drop down on one side of him, and I sink onto the other side.
He looks at me with interest. Zayne is built just like his father, athletic, with medium-brown skin and thick dark hair, and he’s got his mother’s beauty. He’s downright pretty. Tonight he’s wearing a black suit with faint dark-purple pinstripes that elevate the look.
“It’s recent,” I say into the silence that stretches. “I’m still getting used to it, and he hasn’t moved out yet. That’s why I haven’t told you.”
Also the fact that we don’t talk as much as we used to. We haven’t since Luke and I started dating. Initially it was out of respect for my new boyfriend, because Zayne and I fucked a very long time ago before deciding we were better as friends. He flirts outrageously with anyone who comes into his sphere, regardless of their relationship status. Then the space was just . . . easier.
Which is kind of shitty, now that I think of it.
I clear my throat. “How have you been?”
He shrugs. “Same old, same old. Got a promotion to COO, which irritates Cassim to no end, but I’ve put in the work. He’s CFO now, but he’ll take CEO when Mother retires . . . If she retires.”
“She’ll retire.” Michelle leans against his side and props her head on his shoulder. “Just like eventually my old man will get tired of all the bullshit and step down. Cassim might think he wants that, but it just means more work for him.”
“Sometimes I think he gains sustenance from work.”
“And Sunara?” All the heirs and spares are clustered in age except for Cassim, who’s the oldest. But Zayne, Michelle, the twins, and I are the same age. Kiley, Sunara, and Michelle’s sibling, Jo, are the youngest. Only by two years, but I can’t help seeing them as the babies.
He shrugs. “Same old, same old. Her nose is always stuck in a book and she avoids every party our parents host.” His dark eyes sharpen with interest. “That’s a cool ring. Where did you get it?”
I have to fight the urge to shove my hand behind me. There’s a dozen reasons I’ve kept the ring on, each flimsier than the next. The truth is that I could suffer through some scratches and remove it. I just . . . haven’t. “Just something new. It was a gift.”
He narrows his eyes, no doubt to ask who gifted it to me, but the waitress walks up, her tray full of drinks. Instantly the threat of an inquisition is gone, and Zayne is all charm, his focus entirely on the waitress. “Thank you, beautiful. You knew just the thing I needed.”
The waitress is beautiful, with warm dark-brown skin, gloriously full lips, and breasts that press against the low cut of her top. She’s also incredibly familiar. She’s worked here a long time, and she was definitely a regular in the VIP bar when I used to come around more often. Her name is . . . Natasha! That’s it.
It strikes me all over again that I can flirt with—can seduce—anyone I want. I’m allowed to. I’m single.