I pry her perfectly manicured talons from my coat sleeve, failing at convincing her she has me confused with someone else. She pivots on her heel, dissatisfied and clearly annoyed.
She wouldn’t even be the first woman I’ve disappointed tonight. She probably won’t be the last.
The club owner refers to me as “Winston Hawthorne’s son” when I finally make it past the entrance. I shudder but force a smile all the same.
That’s me. Heir to a fortune I don’t want. The son of a man who doesn’t want me. Or at least anything I represent. He might accept me more if I acted like him: cold, selfish, ruthless. I shake my head to clear my thoughts and take another sip of bourbon. This is not how I imagined the night going.
Another brunette from across the room catches my attention. She pins me with a stare that would have even a priest’s blood running cold. Her lips tease the rim of her glass, and my body stiffens. Though not in the way I had hoped. I should be feeling something. I can’t say I have a type. I don’t prefer blondes to brunettes or long legs to luscious curves. But the woman in front of me, all but making love to me with her eyes, sparks no encouragement from the shameless part of my body that’s sent me on this journey to begin with.
It’s not working anymore, Zach, because you’re the dick now.
I groan.
Another sip of bourbon fails to kill the ache, and I scan the room for the next best option. So not a brunette tonight. I just need someone distracting. Someone with fiery red hair, perhaps, to keep the fantasies of my own temptress in check.
The first woman to cross my gaze sits at the bar with a young blonde. Her friend’s back is to me, but I have a perfect view of the redhead in my crosshairs. She doesn’t notice me watching them at first. Her tiny nose wrinkles at the drink she’s been given. She exchanges some sort of joke with the bartender before passing it back. Her soft eyes sparkle in the dim lighting, and she smooths back the full mane of curls falling down around her eyes.
I could do with a little warmth, a little light-hearted humor. She seems carefree and easy-going. Nothing about her screams off-limits, or danger. Her smiling eyes flick past her friend’s shoulder to mine, and she stops.
A longing resurfaces. This could work. Maybe.
I take another sip, propping myself up with as much courage as I can muster. I don’t have to be in love with the girl. I just need a mind-blowing distraction.
I slam the empty glass down on the table and spin my chair away from the bar. Just as I am about to leap from my seat, another woman slips in beside me.
“Still drinking bourbon, Zach?” she asks.
Her voice holds me in place. This one I do recognize.
I face the blonde now seated beside me. Her soft brown eyes peek out at me beneath a half-lidded stare. She pouts her full, plush lips which are drenched in some shade of red that should be called the Devil’s sacrificial cherry. Or some such other ludicrous name. Long, slender legs extend from beneath a skirt that barely seems to cover her ass. Yet somehow she still leaves enough to the imagination.
A horribly lurid and tawdry imagination, but enough to grab any man’s attention. She is every bit the mistress of seduction I remember. The only thing missing is my desire to have her.
“Chloe,” I say cooly. “Nice to see you again.”
“I’m sure it is. You know we missed you at your father’s benefit last month.” She reaches for the drink she’s ordered, flashing the bartender a flirtatious smile before returning her attention to me. “I even wore a sexy red dress to capture your attention, but you didn’t show.”
“Red was always your favorite color. Not mine.” I wince. Doubtful.
“It wasn’t the dress so much as what was under it,” she says, pressing her lips against my ear. “Nothing. Same as now.”
I flex my grip, reminding myself that this woman is a trip into torrential waters I want no part of any longer. She takes the crazy ex-girlfriend status to a whole new level of insanity. There had never really been anything between us. Except for smoking hot sex and the assumption that she would take a place beside me in the family business.
Mergers. Business transactions. That’s all marriage is to these people.
I want no part of it.
“You look like you could use some company tonight,” she says. Her hand slides over my thigh.
I remain still. She knows exactly how to get me into her bed. She knows every trick and tease that makes me tick. I am tempted, for old times sake. Anything to remove Aly McKenzie from my thoughts.
“I’m lonely too, Zach,” she whispers against my ear, her lips near my throat. “No strings. Just you and me.”
I’m almost to the point of convincing myself this will work when my phone chimes.
Come get me,the text reads. It takes me a moment to realize who the message came from.
Aly.