Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
ZARA
I can’t remember the last time I went to a nightclub. I think it was in college, maybe, when Violet visited and convinced me to go because she wanted to try out her new fake ID.
Regardless of how long it’s been, I know with crystal clarity that I’ve never been to a place like this. Stepping into this club feels like entering an alternate dimension. And that says a lot considering all the bougie shit I’ve encountered this week.
Velvet is nestled in one of Nashville’s trendiest neighborhoods. After we are dropped off in the back alley, we’re escorted through an inconspicuous door manned by a burly-looking bouncer.
Although this club is ultra-exclusive, we are still led upstairs to an even more exclusive private VIP area. It is dripping with opulence and adorned with velvet curtains and plush leather sofas. There is even blackout glass to gaze down at the main floor.
I feel like a voyeur standing here watching everyone below.
“You look lonely over here.” I startle at the sound of Darius walking toward me. He hands me a glass of champagne and joins me, gazing out over the crowd. The lights glow as the people below move to the beat.
It’s hypnotic.
“Not bored,” I tell him. “Just surprised, I guess.”
“Oh?” He’s a little more relaxed now than he was during all the times I’ve been around him before. It’s like he’s dropped some superfluous wall he keeps up around everyone else. And right now, he’s giving me a glimpse of the real Darius.
I kind of like it.
“Well, I guess I thought if I were ever at a private club with a bunch of rock stars—”
He smirks. “We’d be drowning in pussy and knee-deep in coke?”
I laugh, nearly choking on my champagne. “Something like that.”
“We used to be like that. Well, minus the coke. None of us has ever been into the hard stuff—except Mitch. But he was into a lot of stupid shit that eventually caught up to him.”
I can tell that his former bandmate is a sore subject, so I decide to sidestep it altogether.
“So this is what you do now? Just hide up here and…talk?”
He must see me looking at the crowd because a mischievous grin spreads across his face. “Are you bored, Doc?”
“No! I—”
“Is this night of frivolity not up to your standards?” A rueful smile spreads across his face, and I realize he’s teasing me.
“I guess I just thought there would be more…” I huff out in frustration. “Dancing.”
“Oh, so you want to dance?”
I bite my bottom lip before finally relenting. “Sort of. It’s been a while since I’ve had the opportunity. But I don’t exactly want to go alone, and there is absolutely no one who can go with me who won’t be mauled by half those girls—”
“I’ll do it.” He shrugs.
“What?”
“Even with all the social media I do, I rarely get recognized. Perks of being the drummer. Always in the background,” he explains. “And it’s so dark, I doubt anyone would notice me, anyway.”
“Are you sure?”
“Hell yeah.” He sets down his drink on a nearby table and holds out his hand, and that’s when I see him. Hendrix stands not too far away, talking to Zander but glaring at me. “Come on, Doc. Let’s go have some fun.”
For some reason, as I look away from Hendrix and take Darius’s hand, I suddenly feel a twinge of guilt, which is crazy.
We agreed to keep this professional, right?
So why do I feel his eyes on me the whole way to the door?
About halfway down the stairs, I have a slight moment of panic.
I did not think this through.
Do I want to dance? Yes.
The way the music is pulsing and the lights are flashing, how could I not? I just didn’t think about the fact that I would be dancing with Darius.
Up close and personal. With his body…so close to mine.
He pulls us into the throng of people, and true to his word, no one seems to give a fuck. No one tries to rip his clothes off or beg him to sign their boobs. They just carry on, completely swept up in the beat.
When we’re somewhere near the middle, he stops, and I don’t even have time to be nervous. This man’s confidence leaves no room for it. He pulls me close, his hands snake around my hips, and then we’re dancing, just like that.
I learn fairly quickly that Darius is a damn good dancer. He’s the perfect blend of playful and sexy that I need to feel comfortable. That is, until he flips me around and pulls me flush against his chest, and suddenly everything gets way more intimate.
My heart hammers in my chest as he grinds his hips against me and leans down to whisper in my ear. “Do you think he’s watching?”
I tense in his arms. “What? Who?”
I feel his deep chuckle vibrating against me. “Come off it, Doc. I know you and Hendrix have something going on. Bloke practically bit my head off when I mentioned you after tonight’s show.”
“He did?” My heart starts racing as I tilt my head to the side to see him grinning down at me.
“He did.”
I don’t know how to handle that information, or the fact that Darius is out here on the dance floor practically flaunting me in front of him.
I glare up at him. “So…you want to make him jealous because he embarrassed you?”
“No.” His eyes gleam with amusement. “No. I’m solid. A bandmate tells me to back off, and I listen. We don’t fight over women. Besides, I wasn’t looking for anything serious. Just a bit of fun.”
“Okay…”
“But he doesn’t know that.” He lets that sink in momentarily as he runs his hands all over my body. It feels good. It really does.
But it doesn’t feel right.
He doesn’t feel right.
“So I’ll ask the question again,” he says as my eyes venture up to the blackened glass. “Do you want to make him jealous?”
I swallow the nervous thrill that runs down my spine. God, it’s so wrong. We said we wouldn’t do this, that we’d keep things professional. But then I remember the way he looked at me when I stepped out of my room. There’s no denying it. He still wants me.
And I’ve never stopped wanting him.
“Yes.”
“Excellent. And you’ll protect me when he comes down here swinging for me?” He turns me back around so I’m facing him, but we’re still just as close.
“Sure.”
“A little more enthusiasm would be appreciated, Doc. I’m your wingman after all.”
“I don’t think wingmen are supposed to get boners when they’re on the job.”
He laughs, dipping his head into the curve of my shoulder. “Can’t be helped, love. I’d have to be dead to not get hard when dancing with a beautiful woman like you.”
“That was a compliment, I think.”
“Oh, it was definitely a compliment. Which is why I must be an absolute arse for passing you up.”
“You make it sound like I already said yes. How do you know I’d ever be interested?” I raise an eyebrow in challenge.
“Oh, you’d be interested,” he says confidently. “I’m not even trying right now, love. If I did, you wouldn’t be able to resist. And you’d be thanking me for it by morning. One hundred percent satisfaction guarantee.”
I roll my eyes. “One hundred percent, huh?”
“No complaints so far.” He shrugs before his gaze cuts just over my shoulder. “Oh, here we go. He’s coming down the steps. You ready?” My stomach drops to my feet, but I nod. “Okay, brilliant. I’m off to the bar.”
“What?” I grab him before he can pull away. “What do you mean you’re off to the bar?”
“Doc, he looks like he’s ready to rip out my spleen and shove it down my throat, and as much as I love you, I’d rather you be the recipient of all that rage—if you know what I mean.” He winks.
It takes me a minute to catch his meaning, but a flood of heat creeps up my neck when I do. He laughs. “You’re welcome!” he says over his shoulder as he walks away, and I’m left standing in the middle of the dance floor by myself.
All by myself.
Shit. What do I do now?
Do I stand here and wait?
No. I should dance, right?
I look back at the stairs to see if I can spot Hendrix, but he’s no longer visible. I’ve never really danced solo. But I guess this is as good a time as any?
Before I can gather the courage, I feel someone’s arms wrap around me from behind and pull me close against their body.
For a split second, I think it has to be Hendrix, but then I look down and the hands aren’t right.
The tiny knuckle tattoos and silver rings he usually wears are absent, and the cuffs of his shirt are blue instead of black.
Oh my god, I’m being groped by a random, pervy stranger.
I freeze and then try to pull away. But this seems to embolden the guy. That, or he’s not paying enough attention to care.
Either way, he doesn’t stop, and I feel trapped.
Everything starts to blur. The music suddenly feels too loud. The lights are too bright and…
“Hey! Get your fucking hands off her!”
I turn just as Hendrix rips the guy off me. The second his hands are no longer on me, I bolt and feel like I can breathe again.
“What the hell is your problem, man? We were having a good time!” The guy is trashed. His words are slurred, and his eyes are glassy. The people around us start to notice the commotion.
I take another step toward Hendrix.
“Yeah? Does she look like someone who was having a good time?” He gestures to me as the guy’s gaze follows. “Did you even ask before you put your hands all over her?”
Drunk Guy doesn’t have an answer for that.
“Leave.” Hendrix doesn’t even spare him another glance, but the lethal edge to his voice has the guy running off into the crowd faster than I can blink.
The attention we’ve attracted seems to disappear just as quickly as people begin to focus back on the music and the people around them. “Are you okay?”
He’s tentative, and his words are gentle, as if he doesn’t know whether he should touch me.
I just nod. He opens his mouth like he’s going to ask another question, but decides against it.
It’s kind of hard to hold a conversation with the distance between us, which is probably why he holds out his hand and says, “Come with me.”