5. Sian
CHAPTER FIVE
SIAN
W e arrived at the club later than planned. My fault, I was still unsure whether it was a good idea to go after the last time, and I couldn’t decide what to wear. In the end, I opted for a red, silk, mini halterneck dress. It leaves my back exposed but gives me the opportunity to show off my spine tattoo, which I don't do often. I love my tattoo. It's the only one I have, and I designed it myself. Its delicate pattern sits on my spine perfectly from top to bottom, and I have three words vertically written through it. Strength, Courage, and Grace. I had it done after I removed myself from the darkness of Daniel and the way he treated me in our relationship. They are three things I remind myself of daily. Strength; it took a lot of strength to get through every day with Daniel, and I will remain strong even now. Courage; for having the courage to leave him, and to have courage on new adventures. Grace; I did everything with grace, and I will remain graceful in my life.
We didn't have to wait in line for long, as we got here late and most of the queue was already inside.
We eventually make it through the crowd and a bartender takes our order.
Rowan shouts over the music so the guy can hear her, “Two Sex on the Beach cocktails and two cherry shots, please.” I stare at her blankly. “What? It’s your birthday and my treat.”
“I don't think getting drunk and making a fool of ourselves is a way to celebrate turning thirty, Row,” I say, rolling my eyes.
“Who said anything about acting a fool?” She chuckles, knowing that's more than likely going to happen. “Lighten up and enjoy yourself.” She hands me the small shot glass. “Happy birthday, Sian.”
I take the shot, clink it against hers, and knock it back with ease. If they didn't make them taste so nice, I wouldn't drink them, and in turn, wouldn't end up totally wasted.
The guy places two big cocktails in front of us. Rowan goes to pay. “On the house, ladies.” He winks at me. “Enjoy your birthday, gorgeous.”
Rowan hoots, but I blush and look away.
The rest of the evening goes the same way. We laugh, we drink, we dance, and then we drink some more. I'm starting to feel tipsy, but I'm really enjoying myself and plan to make the most of my birthday; something I couldn't do when I was with Daniel.
We're in the middle of the dance floor, busting some sultry moves. I throw my head back, laughing, but I suddenly get the feeling I'm being watched. I can feel eyes on me. My own eyes spring open, and the only person I see is the guy from last weekend. The one who owns the club. He's hidden in the shadows, but I know it's him. I can't look away; it's like he has a hold on me, and no amount of strength I have will pull me away. I'm being drawn to him, and I can't put my finger on why. I know he's someone I should avoid, and I definitely shouldn't be having dirty thoughts about what I'd let him do to me.
What the fuck, Sian?
He shifts from one foot to the other before moving towards another guy, who’s leaning against the railing on the upper level. I squint and see it’s Rick. They exchange a few words before their eyes shift to something behind me. I'm surrounded by a mass of bodies jumping up and down, so I can't see what they see, but the tension in the room intensifies and is enough to break the connection altogether.
Connection? Could I call it that? Maybe it was just a moment.
I spin around and find Rowan dancing with some guy. From the look on his face, he thinks he's about to get lucky.
I jump at the feel of a hand on my bare back. “Sorry, birthday girl.” I smile when I see it's the bartender from earlier. “There's a table and a bottle of champagne on ice waiting for you and your friend in the VIP section,” he says against my ear.
I point to myself. “Me?”
He smiles and nods. “Yes. You can thank Mr. Matthews.” With that said, he leaves.
On the inside, I'm screaming and jumping up and down with excitement. I grab Rowan's arm and tug her with me.
“What the hell?” she shouts, putting up some resistance. “Sian, where's the fire? Slow down.” When I stop at the bottom of the stairs leading to the VIP area, she stops pulling against me.
“What are you doing? There's no way we'll get up there, especially after last weekend.” She folds her arms across her chest.
I ignore her, smile, and turn towards the bouncer standing next to the rope, “Hi. I have a table waiting for me, courtesy of Mr. Matthews.” He speaks into his sleeve and holds his earpiece with the other hand. Seconds later, he's unclipping the rope and ushering us up. “Enjoy your evening, ladies.”
I thank him and begin climbing the stairs in a tipsy state.
“Ladies, if you'd like to follow me.” Another bartender greets me as we reach the top.
I'm in awe. The space is bigger than I expected. It's modern and classy too. Booths line the walls, cast in darkness for privacy. The bar sits along the far wall. A glass panel runs the length of it, and rows and rows of liquor line the shelves. The front of the bar is enclosed with crystals or diamonds, and the contrast of the lights hitting it sets off a gorgeous rainbow light that lines the floor. It's beautiful.
Rowan links her arm in mine. “Holy shit, Sian. This is crazy. How's this even happening?”
I don't want to tell her who I think has done this, as I can't be sure, and she'll think too much into it. Hell, I’ll think too much into it. “I have no idea, but let's just go with it.”
We're shown to a table with two comfy seats overlooking the dance floor and DJ booth. The cork on the champagne bottle pops unexpectedly, causing Rowan and me to jump. The bartender pours two glasses and hands them to us before placing a note on the table.
Confused, I eagerly snatch it up and read the handwritten note.
Try not to waste this one!
T
My suspicions are confirmed. My stomach drops and my head whips around in every direction, looking for the writer of the note. I don’t see him anywhere.
Why would he allow us up here after last weekend?
What game is he playing?
“Rowan, I think the champagne might be drugged.” I’m serious, but she laughs at me and sips some of the drink anyway.
“Don’t be silly. The cork was only just popped. And who would want to drug us?” She shakes her head at me and sips the champagne.
I toss the note onto her lap. “That’s who.”
She reads the note a couple of times before it sinks in. “No!” She covers her mouth with her hand and her eyes widen.
“Yes.”
She drops her hand. “I was being sarcastic. You’re overthinking it. Maybe he was sending it as a subtle hint to behave and that he's watching us this time.” She shrugs.
Yeah, okay, she could be right. But why not say it to my face? Why so secretive?
“I wonder what the ‘T’ stands for?” Rowan shouts over the music. “Tom? Taylor? Theo. Oh, he looks like a Theo.”
I arch my brow. “How would you know? You only got a glance at him, and it was dark.”
She looks at me. “Tall, dark, very good-looking in a rugged yet sexy way. Oh, and he had a scar, right?”
“Yeah, on his brow.” I distinctly remember that.
“Why don’t you just ask him?” She crosses her legs, lifts her champagne glass in a salute, and smiles.
“Who are you smiling at?” I turn in my seat, and right behind me is the man from the previous weekend.
“Ladies. Are you enjoying the champagne?”
“It’s refreshing,” Rowan says.
“I’ve tasted better.”
Jeez, why am I being such a bitch? He hasn’t even done anything wrong.
“I bet you have.” He smirks, and a tiny moan escapes my lips.
What is it about this man that leaves me a wanton mess and wishing he’d lift me out of this chair, slam me on the table, and have his wicked way with me?
I turn back to Rowan and try to ignore his presence, but I get a whiff of his aftershave again. He smells divine.
“Hey, it’s tiny dick,” Rowan shouts mockingly. I glare at her; at this rate, she’s going to get us thrown out before we’ve even drunk the champagne.
“Wow, it seems we’re letting the trash back in,” he says, but I see a hint of a smile.
Her face falls ever so slightly, but she masks it brilliantly. “Say what you like, you’re not ruining my night, or Sian’s birthday. Be gone, tiny dick.” She waves him off.
“Behave, both of you,” the guy standing behind me says.
I feel a breath behind my ear. “Happy birthday… Sian,” the guy with the scar whispers in my ear. The way he says my name has me crossing my legs and squeezing my thighs together.
“Th…thank you,” I stutter. “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”
He doesn’t get to answer as Rick taps his shoulder. “Tate, we’ve got something.” He nods to the floor below. Tate’s eyes turn into dark pits of endless blackness.
Something in his demeanor shifts, and it’s like he no longer sees me. He stands straight and squares his shoulders. “Let’s go.” He storms off, Rick hot on his heels.
“Jesus, I wonder what that was all about,” I say to Rowan, but she’s too busy checking out Rick’s backside. “Seriously?”
She turns her body in my direction. “What?” She chuckles.
“You throw insults at each other every time you speak, yet you’re checking him out.” I shake my head.
“It’s foreplay, Sian. You should try it.” She sticks her tongue out at me playfully. “Now, let’s dance and finish this bottle of champagne.”
We stand against the railing and start to dance, but movement to one side of the dance floor gains my attention. I see Tate and Rick with a couple of other guys in what looks like a very heated conversation. Out of nowhere, Tate literally throat punches one of them. It happened so fast and is so precise that it would have easily been missed if I blinked. I’m in shock, yet unable to look away. The injured guy falls to his knees, gasping for air, but he doesn't get the chance to breathe, as he's hauled back up and dragged out of a side door.
Tate’s the last one to walk through, but not without looking up at me. He shows no emotion for his actions, or that I witnessed it. Then, he’s gone.
I don’t like the feeling he’s left with me. I can’t explain it, but something doesn’t sit right with me.
How can you go from being friendly with a stranger to sucker punching someone in the throat in seconds? Is this normal for someone like him? It sure as shit isn’t for me. He didn’t even care if anyone witnessed it. Daniel had a violent streak, but it was always behind closed doors. Tate is on a whole other level.
Rowan is none the wiser about the events happening around her as she’s too busy dancing and screaming lyrics to the song that’s playing.
I tap her on the arm. “I’m just going to the bathroom.” She gives me a thumbs up and continues swaying to the beat.
I look around for a sign leading me to the bathroom, but my vision isn’t the greatest and it’s dark up here. I understand that they want to set the mood with the decor and give people their privacy, but it would be nice to be able to see my hands out in front of me.
I wander through the back corridors. I'm up and down stairs like a damn yo-yo. I must have missed the bathroom or taken a wrong turn somewhere because I can’t imagine they’d be all the way back here. It’s so far back I can hardly hear the music anymore. I do, however, hear voices. Deep, menacing voices. It should be enough to have me running in the opposite direction, but my feet have other ideas. I tiptoe so my heels don’t alert them to my snooping around.
“Tell me who he is,” one of them roars.
“I ain’t tellin’ you shit!”
“That’s too bad.”
An almighty cry rings out through the air and echoes down the corridor and all around me.
“If you think that was bad, you don’t know me very well.”
“I know exactly who you are, Tate Matthews. The famous drug lord and master of his craft. We were told everything about you on our recruitment day.”
Someone sniggers, but it’s short-lived, as the next thing I hear is what I can only describe as bone crunching.
“You say our . How many of you, and who do you work for?”
I find the room where all the commotion is and peer through the crack in the open door. I spot Tate, Rick, and another of his men. Two more men are each strapped to a chair. One looks unconscious, and the other is spitting blood. Clearly, he’s been roughed up a bit.
“This is your last chance,” Tate says, raising his gun and pointing it at one of the guys who is tied up.
I cover my mouth with my hand to silence the gasp I let slip.
For the love of God, just tell him what he wants to know.
“Like I said before, I ain’t tellin’ you shit.”
“Fine. Then you’re no longer of any use to me.”
“No, no… wait. I─”
I jump as the gun is fired. The loud bang rings in my ears, but I’ll never forget the look of sheer panic on the man's face as his head springs back instantly and hangs limply over the back of the chair, his brains smeared up the wall behind him.
I press my hand tighter over my mouth to mask my scream. It’s all too much. I’ve seen and heard enough. I feel like I’m going to vomit. I need to get out of here. I turn in a hasty retreat to run, but I knock a vase over. It clatters to the floor, shattering to pieces.
Along with my world as I once knew it.