Chapter 23
brOOKLYN
“Remind me again why I wore a dress and heels.” Carina shivered as we exited the restaurant and practically ran to the limo.
“Because we’re going to a club, and you look hot.” I wore a thick down coat that went past my knees, but every inch of exposed skin felt like ice.
“Right. Hot. Think of heat,” she chanted.
Luckily, the limo wasn’t parked too far from the exit. Vincent stood near the passenger side door, his gaze fixed on his phone. My steps slowed when I took in his white knuckles and the rigid set of his shoulders.
Something was wrong.
Carina disappeared into the car like the hounds of hell were at her heels. The sounds of my friends’ laughter and a warm blast of air beckoned from inside, but my feet remained rooted to the ground.
Vincent hadn’t noticed me yet. He was probably answering birthday texts, and I was overthinking things, but…
“Don’t tell me you’re googling yourself again,” I teased. It was a soft gauge to see what he was doing.
He glanced up, his mouth grim.
My smile disappeared. Something’s definitely wrong.
“Actually, I was, but not for the reason you think.” He hesitated, then said, “I got a weird text, and it’s freaking me out a bit.”
He handed me his phone. I skimmed the text in question, my skin pebbling with goosebumps as another gust of frigid air swept over me.
“Maybe it’s a friend and they got a new number?
” I suggested optimistically. Still, I couldn’t resist a scan of our surroundings in case someone was lurking in the shadows, watching us.
“Maybe.” Vincent didn’t sound convinced, and rightfully so. The unknown number and their lack of response to his follow-up were glaring red flags.
“Do you think it’s the same person who left the doll and photo?” I didn’t want to feed into his worries on his birthday, of all days, but I had to ask. It also hadn’t escaped my notice that I was the only person he’d told about the text. If the others knew, they wouldn’t be laughing in the limo.
The warmth I felt at this display of trust was tempered by burning anger.
I didn’t hate a lot of people, but I hated whoever was doing this to him.
It took a special kind of twisted to mess with someone’s head, disappear, and pop back up weeks later to fuck with them some more.
It was psychological torture at this point.
“I hope so. I can’t deal with two different people trying to mess with my head.” Vincent grimaced. “Not a lot of people know I’m in Budapest, and they texted right after I left the restaurant. The timing can’t be a coincidence.”
“It’s suspicious,” I admitted. “But it’s also dinnertime, so it could be a lucky guess. As for your location, some fans could’ve seen you and posted about it online.”
No matter my personal reservations, I wasn’t going to let him spiral on his birthday. This was his day, and we were in freaking Hungary. There was nothing we could do about the text tonight.
“You should forward that to Detective Smith, just in case,” I added. “The police might be able to trace the number.” Hopefully, the text was “actionable” enough for the detective to finally get off his ass and do his job.
“I will.” Vincent glanced at the driver. He waited outside the limo, smoke curling from his cigarette while he watched what sounded like a sports match on his phone. “Don’t tell the others about this, okay? Especially not Scarlett. I don’t want them to worry.”
“I won’t. I promise.”
“Thank you.” His shoulders relaxed, and his face softened as he added, “I didn’t get a chance to tell you earlier, but you look beautiful.”
I blushed, the compliment washing over me in a warm wave. “Thank you.” Then, because I couldn’t think of anything witty to say, I grabbed his hand and pulled him into the car. “Come on. We have a birthday to celebrate.”
Vincent and I didn’t speak of the text again for the rest of the night. It was easier to push it to the back of my mind when we were with our friends, who were too hyped up about our next stop to ask why it took us so long to get in the car.
We were ending the night at a multi-story mega club in the heart of the city. When we arrived, a dedicated staff member escorted us inside through a private entrance and up to the VIP floor.
Despite the discretion, a few clubgoers did double takes when our group passed by.
“Oh my God! Is that who I think it is?”
“Asher! Vincent! I love you!”
“They are sooo hot.”
“Blackcastle sucks!”
“Can you sign my boobs?”
“No, Adil.” Asher grasped the midfielder’s arm when he moved toward the gushing fan. “No boob signing.”
“Aw, man.” Adil pouted. “I never get to have any fun!”
But he perked right back up when we finally made it to the VIP area. Like the rest of the club, it resembled a hedonistic Disneyland for adults, and it was opulent enough to rival even the best nightspots in London.
The air was thick with a heady cocktail of perfume, sweat, and alcohol.
Neon and strobe lights swept through the vast space, glinting off mirrors, metallic surfaces, and the glass DJ booth suspended over the dance floor.
A writhing mass of bodies moved in sync with the music, and the bass was so deep, so primal, I could feel it in my bones.
“First round’s on me!” Samson shouted. He beckoned one of the bottle girls and whispered something to her. She returned less than a minute later with a tray of electric blue shots. There was a non-alcoholic option for Adil, who downed his with as much gusto as the rest of us.
My gaze collided with Vincent’s over the top of our shot glasses. We finished our drinks and set them back on the tray, our eyes lingering on each other.
I rarely drank hard alcohol, and the buzz was immediate. My cheeks flushed as a tingle ran through my blood. The room seemed to swirl as our friends blurred into background noise.
Vincent was the only one in focus. His wide shoulders and sculpted form cut a commanding presence in the chaos.
The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up, revealing muscled forearms, and his gaze was hooded as it slid down my face to my mouth.
It rested there for half a beat longer than appropriate before it came back up to meet mine.
My pulse quickened. I felt lightheaded, my whole body fizzing with anticipation like it already knew what his touch would feel like.
“Let’s dance!” Carina grabbed my hand. She sounded giddy and more than a little drunk.
The spell holding the rest of the club at bay collapsed. The noise rushed back with disorienting clarity as Carina dragged me to the dance floor, and when I looked back, Vincent was already gone.
It was impossible to keep track of the group as the night wore on. They dipped in and out, there one minute and gone the next.
Samson and Tamara, making out shamelessly.
Seth, dancing and fist pumping like he was at a rave in 1999.
Asher and Scarlett, slow dancing to a song only they could hear.
The drinks flowed, the music swirled, and the lights flashed, illuminating pockets of the room like they were snapshots in time.
I’d lost count of the hours, but we’d been here long enough that my worries felt like a bad dream. ISNA, my job, my family, none of that mattered at this moment. The outside world didn’t exist, and that was exactly how I wanted it.
Carina laughed when I twirled her around.
She returned the favor, but my giggles were drowned by a club remix of Riley K’s latest hit.
I was still breathing heavily from the quick spurt of cardio when a gorgeous guy came up to us and said something to Carina.
She gestured toward me and shook her head, but I could tell she was intrigued.
Do you want to dance with him? I mouthed.
“I’m staying with you!” she shouted over the music. It wasn’t a no.
“I’ll be fine. Go! He’s hot!”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.” I gently pushed her toward the guy. “Have fun! Text me if you need me!”
Carina hesitated, but when I waved her off again, she winked and mouthed, I’ll find you later.
I grinned. I didn’t mind dancing alone, and I was happy to see her interested in someone. Carina was beautiful, but she was extremely picky. She’d turned down almost every date invitation and dance offer I’d seen her receive since we met.
The music switched to an upbeat hip-hop song. I was too buzzed to think too hard about where the rest of my friends were, but I did notice Noah standing alone by the bar with a frown.
Why was he frowning? This was supposed to be fun!
I shimmied over to him. He watched me approach with a bemused expression.
“Come on, Wilson, let’s get you on the dance floor! You look miserable!” I tugged at his hand, but it was like trying to pull a tree out from its roots.
“I don’t dance.”
“Ever?”
“Not to this music.”
“Don’t be a snob. This isn’t a…a waltz or whatever you like to do, but it’s still fun. No one will judge you.”
“I’m fine right here.”
“Noah Wilson.” I planted my hands on my hips.
“You are at the best nightclub in Budapest. You’ve spent the entire night watching other people enjoy themselves from the sidelines.
Even Carina is dancing with someone, and she usually never dances with guys when we go out!
You can be uptight all you want tomorrow, but at least try to loosen up tonight. ”
His frown deepened. A muscle ticked in his jaw, and just when I thought it was a lost cause, he set his drink down and said gruffly, “One song. That’s it.”
I beamed. “Deal.”
He followed me onto the dance floor like a prisoner following the warden to his execution. The music transitioned again, this time to something sultrier.
He was a little stiff at first, so I tried to ease him into it. “Here. Put your hands on my waist.” I stepped closer to make it easier for him. “I’ll put my arms around your neck, and we can just move our feet and hips like this. One, two. One, two. See? It’s easy.”