Chapter 2
CHAPTER TWO
ALEX
As I made my way downstairs the bass grew louder, seeming to vibrate the very air.
Each step brought me closer to the source of the pulsing sound, the music growing sharper, heavier, until it was a tangible thing, wrapping around me like a second skin.
The sharp stench of sex and booze saturated the humid, sticky air, and I licked my lips, letting Euphoria’s chaotic, wild energy cling to my skin like sweat.
Staff members straightened as I passed, their nods quick and deferential, their spines just a touch stiffer.
Even the club-goers turned to watch me, their gazes lingering with curiosity.
I paid them no heed, my focus sharp as a blade, my movements purposeful.
In my perfectly tailored three-piece suit, crisp white shirt, and a silk tie knotted with meticulous precision, I stood out from the horde of semi-naked club rats.
Ewan was waiting for me. He was a colossus of a man, muscles straining against the seams of his black suit, tattoos snaking out from his cuffs and crawling across his knuckles.
Ex-army, dishonourably discharged for offences that would have landed him with twenty years inside had he been a civilian, offences I didn’t even want to think about.
He was a hard man to intimidate. Usually. The faintest smile pulled at my lips.
“Bit of a fuck-up tonight, Ewan.” My voice was calm but I made sure it carried an edge sharp enough to cut. I stepped in close and brought my mouth to his ear. “Kelvin was all for ripping your balls off and tossing them into the alley out the back. For the vermin, you understand.”
Ewan swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing. Even in the dim light, I could see how pale he’d gone, his bald head glistening with nervous sweat. A droplet carved a path down his temple and over his cheek, before curling into the corner of his mouth.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Cade. As soon as we saw there was trouble, we handled it. The gentleman in question was efficiently removed. Order’s been restored.”
I said nothing, letting the weight of my gaze do the work for me. I wasn’t angry, not really, because like I’d said to Kelvin stuff like this happened in our business, but I wanted Ewan to feel the heat. Judging by the way he shifted on his feet, he did. Good.
“The point,” I said, keeping my voice soft, letting it drop lower, “is that the trouble shouldn’t have happened in the first place.
” I clapped a hand on Ewan’s shoulder, the gesture almost friendly if not for the iron grip that followed.
Ewan flinched, his wince barely concealed, and I tightened my hold just enough to drive the point home.
“When Mr. Lewis is angry, people tend to get hurt. Count yourself lucky it’s me standing here and not him. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Mr. Cade. Fully understood. It won’t happen again.”
“See that it doesn’t.” I loosened my grip and patted his shoulder. “And maybe keep a low profile for the rest of the night. Keep out of Mr. Lewis’ cross hairs.”
Ewan nodded in relief. He stepped aside to open the door leading into the main part of the club, sending me a nervous smile. I didn’t return it. As the door swung open, the music hit me like a tidal wave.
The dance floor was chaos. Lights strobed across the room in violent bursts of red and blue, illuminating a sea of bodies moving in unison, grinding and writhing to the relentless beat.
Raw, hot, and heady, the atmosphere so thick I could cut it with a knife.
I inhaled deeply, the scent triggering a flicker of memory: nights spent in this very club when Kelvin and I were starting out, the electric thrill of excitement of who and what we could be, years and years before the doubts and disquiet had set in.
Euphoria had been the start of everything.
Leaning against the railing of the raised platform circling the main dance floor, I scanned the crowd below. The heavy bass beat rattled my teeth, a sensation that once would’ve thrilled me but now only reminded me how much older I was than most of the bodies writhing below.
My gaze landed on the dark-haired man I’d spotted earlier on the monitors. Sandwiched between two others, his head was thrown back in ecstasy, his mouth loose, his eyes closed, as one of the guys palmed his cock through his jeans, while the other licked a path up his neck, hands gripping his hips.
I followed their rut of a dance, my dick filling at the display.
I preferred one-on-one—less messy, less complicated—but there was something about the scene that held my attention.
As if sensing my presence, the man opened his eyes.
Our gazes locked, and his lips curved into a slow, dirty smile that was both a challenge and an invitation.
My pulse quickened. I loosened my tie and stepped away from the railing, ready to—
The commotion behind me was sharp, stopping me in my tracks, the guys on the dance floor momentarily forgotten.
“Get your hands off me. I told you to fuck off! I don’t want to dance with you.”
My muscles tensed. There was fear beneath the anger, buried but unmistakable, and it sent a shiver down my spine, triggering memories long since confined to the dark, which was where they were going to stay.
Security was already moving in; they’d deal with it hard and fast, knowing I was there. I should have walked away, I should have left them to it, because I had other things and other men to attend to.
But I didn’t.
A stocky bouncer was already there, his deep voice cutting through the noise. “Is there a problem here?”
“No problem,” said the taller of the two men, his arm slung around the other’s shoulders.
The shorter guy twisted out of the hold, his face flushed, his eyes blazing. “There is a problem,” he snapped. “And it’s him. I’m just trying to leave, but he won’t take no for an answer.”
The taller man’s face darkened, his pupils blown wide, his movements jittery.
High as a kite. Edgy, and a time bomb waiting to blow.
My jaw tightened, a flicker of anger sparking in my chest. I made a mental note to speak to Kelvin about tightening up on drugs in the club.
When they caused scenes, they became bad for business.
“Escort him out,” I said to the bouncer. “And make sure he leaves the vicinity.”
The bouncer nodded, gripping the man by the arm and dragging him toward the exit.
The guy’s protests faded into the music, and I turned my attention to the shorter man, who’d sagged against the railing.
Blond hair fell into his eyes. Sweeping it back, he looked up at me, and the muscles deep in my chest tightened.
“Are you okay?”
The man let out a shaky laugh, his blue eyes bright even in the club’s dim light. “Yes. Or I am now. Thanks. That guy’s been on my case all night. Should’ve stayed home. I knew it was a mistake to come here. I can’t stand places like this, they’re so bloody sleazy.”
“Sleazy?” I arched a brow.
The man flushed, the colour rising high on his cheeks. “Probably shouldn’t have said that,” he mumbled. “You’re obviously the manager.”
“Why do you say that?” Manager. I wouldn’t disabuse him of that. Or not yet.
“The suit. And the fact you’re still wearing your shirt.”
I laughed, the tension easing from my shoulders. “You’ve still got yours on.”
“I’m just about the only one who has.” He glanced down at his plain T-shirt and jeans. “And I plan to keep it that way.”
I followed his gaze. His T-shirt hugged his torso but wasn’t painted on, as were the close fitting jeans that still managed to be on the looser side of skin tight. “Do you think he’s gone now?” He tilted his head towards the exit, uncertainty lacing his words.
“Yes, so don’t worry.” Either that or lying semi-conscious between the big industrial bins in the alley that ran behind the back of the club.
The guy’s face visibly relaxed. “Which means I should be going, too. It’s not exactly been the best of nights, and I don’t only mean with what happened with that tosser.
Thanks for stepping in, I appreciate it.
Okay, time to face the horrors of the night bus.
” He pushed his fingers through his blond hair as he gazed up at me.
There was nothing contrived about the gesture, nothing remotely flirtatious, and I doubted he was even aware of what he was doing.
He was out of place in Euphoria, a lamb amongst the wolves, and the urge to get him away from the pulsating dance floor pressed in on me.
“Let me get you a drink,” I said quickly, “to apologise for your less than satisfactory experience this evening. Just so you don’t give us a poor review on Trip Advisor.”
“Don’t worry, I won’t screw up your ratings,” he said, laughing, the sound making me smile. “But, really, you don’t have to do that, and I should be going. Not used to being out so late on a school night.”
“It’ll fortify you against the night bus.” It’d been years since I’d been on a bus, whether night or day. The guy was wavering and with a sinking heart I was sure he was going to refuse.
“Well… all right,” he said, surprising me. “Just the one, though. The night bus weirdos get more weird as the night goes on. Plus, it’s a full moon so they’re going to be extra lively. I’m Kit. Kit Anderson.”
He held out his hand. It was an oddly formal thing to do, in a club full of half-naked men. I took it, my fingers closing around his, feeling the warmth of his skin, the fine bones, and the long and slender fingers, verging on this side of being feminine, yet dispelled by his firm grasp.
“Alex Cade.”
He smiled up at me, and I led the way towards the glassed off VIP area, the temptation of the dark-haired guy on the dance floor discarded and forgotten.