Chapter Two
Jensen
I lift the glass to my mouth and take a swig. The smell of the whiskey hits my nostrils, and I breathe a sigh of relief as it burns a welcome trail down my throat. It’s been a fucking crazy day. I needed to get out of the club—a club I own—to a place that feels more like me. The Mason’s Bar is familiar and comforting - perfect with its relaxed vibe and soft rock. I miss drinking here with my work buddies.
I take another sip of my drink and close my eyes wearily. On days like today, I wonder how the fuck I got to where I am right now.
I’m thirty-two years old. Owner of The Lockhart Club, an exclusive establishment I inherited two years ago on my father's death—an inheritance that’s become an albatross around my neck.
Truth is, I’m tired. Tired of faking it. Tired of pretending everything is okay when nothing could be further from the truth.
On paper, the business is worth close to a billion dollars—but it doesn’t mean a damned thing because that piece of paper is becoming increasingly worthless by the day.
It wasn’t until after my father died two years ago that I learned the full extent of the damage he’d inflicted on the company my grandfather built. He left a massive pile of debt and bitter memories behind him when he drank himself off this mortal coil. The selfish bastard put his desires above the livelihood of his employees. He plowed his way through the profits while living the high life, enjoying the kind of luxuries he thought were his due.
I’ve spent the last two years trying to pull the business back from the brink. The worry and weight of that responsibility have taken their toll, and somewhere along the way, I’ve lost sight of who I am.
I down the rest of my whiskey and nod at the bartender for another.
“Is anyone sitting here?”
I glance up at the tall, blond woman who’s appeared next to me. She’s beautiful, with long hair that cascades in waves over her shoulders and a body that would make most grown men cry—yet she doesn’t elicit so much as a twitch from my dormant cock.
I smile politely and shake my head. “No. Help yourself.”
The beautiful blonde tries to make small talk, but I don’t even have the energy to pretend to be interested. It takes less than five minutes for her to realize she’s getting nowhere with me. She slides off the barstool, muttering something about ignorant assholes, and disappears into the crowd of people. She’s right—I am an asshole.
The ironic thing is, she’s precisely the kind of woman I would’ve enjoyed spending some time with before the glossy sheen wore off my life. Now, everything just feels jaded and gaudy.
As I toss back the last of my whiskey and turn to leave, I spot Jared, one of my best friends, heading towards me.
“Hey, Jensen! Where the fuck have you been? Haven’t seen you in weeks,” he greets me with a friendly slap on the back.
“Sorry, bud. Work has been crazy,” I reply, feeling guilty at Jared’s words. He’s right. I haven’t seen him or Dexter, our other friend, for almost a month. “Thought I’d get out of the office for a little while, remind myself what I’m missing.”
“You leaving already?” Jared asks with a frown, seeing my empty tumbler on the bar. “I was gonna ask you to join me for a drink.”
I grimace. “I’ve just knocked back two whiskeys. Raincheck?”
Jared raises a dark eyebrow. “Sure I can’t persuade you to stay? I got a couple of hot babes sitting at my table, just waiting to be entertained.”
I laugh and shake my head at him. “Thanks, buddy, but I’ve got a busy day tomorrow, so I should get going. But I know you’re man enough for both of them.”
Jared winks. “I’ll give it my best shot.”
“Enjoy,” I chuckle.
Jared turns to walk away, then hesitates. “When you’re ready to share your shit, I’ll will be waiting. Dex, too,” he says awkwardly. Jared doesn’t do deep and meaningful, so his words are unexpected. “Call me!” he orders, giving my shoulder another slap and heading back towards his table.
“I will,” I promise, feeling guilty again for neglecting my friends. I’ve been all work and no play for far too long.
Not that Jared will miss me too much tonight. I laugh under my breath as he sandwiches himself between the two women at his table. He’s a man-ho and will fuck anything with a pussy. Not one to shy away from life, he grabs what he wants with both hands. As a firefighter, he knows what it’s like to be up close and personal with death on a regular basis. It gives you a different outlook on life, something I know only too well because it was my life too until fate intervened.
I turn, heading for the exit… and stumble straight into a young woman, knocking her off her feet. She lets out a little yelp, and I react instinctively, hauling her against me to stop her from falling. Her eyes fly to mine, and every other thought in my brain scatters like leaves on the wind.
Holy. Fucking. Shitballs.
She’s breathtaking. Piercing green eyes. Long, glossy, ebony hair. Flawless complexion. Delectable curves. She has a freshness, an ethereal quality about her that’s completely captivating.