CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Sutton
Clubs have never been my scene.
Sure, I went with Lizzy that fated night because I just needed to feel alive—and boy did he make me feel alive.
And now, if I’m honest with myself, I’m here because the last thing I’m going to do is let Callahan tell me what I can and can’t do.
Not after he’s been ignoring me—which hello?
Why is he? Because we actually talked? Because our kissing felt way more intimate than anything we’ve done before?
And especially not after him pulling the Neanderthal role earlier.
That, and I have a feeling he’ll show up here too.
A man as possessive and demanding as he is won’t be thrilled that I’m here alone. Especially not when he was what happened to me the last time I was in the same position.
I bet he’s pacing back and forth at the villa.
Or standing in the shadows watching me right now.
My money’s on the latter.
Guess I better dance my ass off to let him know I’m not waiting around for him to come to his senses.
Truth be told, I’d rather be back at the villa relaxing. It’s been a long week of overthinking and frankly, I’m exhausted.
However, it really is pertinent to see what the competition is doing so I can make ours even better.
And I have in fact, done just that. Mental notes have been made and my phone already has a dozen pictures or so of unique touches I’d like to have a designer look at and then take a few steps further for the Ocean’s Edge’s club.
Our venue is significantly nicer as a whole, so the transition and upgrades shouldn’t be too complicated or costly.
I take a sip of my second drink and awkwardly look around. It’s weird to be in a club by yourself and not have a group of girlfriends to hang with or have fun with. To even have the confidence to pull it off.
And honestly, I don’t have the confidence right now.
It’s one thing to have it when I’m one on one with Callahan—there’s something about him that makes me feel empowered.
Confident. I hate even admitting that to myself because I’m coming off a situation where I let a man have power over my emotions. Never again.
And yet, the power Callahan gives me is completely different in the best of ways.
“You might as well have a good time instead of standing here like a wallflower sipping that drink of yours, Sutton.”
“Brady! You were able to make it!” Relief floods through me to have a friend here.
“I couldn’t let you brave these shark-infested waters alone. I mean, unless you want to, of course.”
“No. Thank you. God, I was just feeling like such a loser standing here by myself.”
“Not anymore.” He taps his drink against mine and offers a devilish grin. “I brought reinforcements with me.” He turns and motions to some familiar faces. “I figured who better to invite along than the staff who might be working this revamped club?”
“That’s great. Awesome,” I shout above the music. Why didn’t I think of that?
Because I was too busy thinking about Callahan and wondering what the hell is going on with him.
“I figured it might help for the staff to see you here, hands-on and trying, instead of thinking of you as the corporate witch who feels threatening.”
“Threatening? I’m here to help them.”
“You know that. I know that. But change is scary to a lot of people and so far, with the new ownership, not much has happened. So you being here and them being here might make you appear a bit more human to them.”
I grab Brady’s forearm and squeeze. “Thank you. Truly. That means a lot.”
“Of course. Now, let’s have another drink and dance.”
And dance we do. Until we’re hot and sweaty and stumbling off the dance floor because we need air and space from all the people that are packed together.
“I’ll get drinks,” Brady says. “You go to the bathroom, and I’ll meet you back here.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
A smile is plastered to my face as I make my way through the crowd. This place is insane. Full of more pretty people than should be legal to have all in one place. But there is no VIP area, no special place to strive to get into.
This is definitely on the list of things to fight for—to negotiate over—for Ocean’s Edge.
An added bonus is this was just what the doctor ordered after the week I had. To let loose with Brady and other staff and forget about everything for a while.
I’m almost to the restroom when someone grabs my arm and pulls me into an open hallway. My yelp is overshadowed by the low bass throbbing through the speakers as I land solidly against a male chest.
“Callahan.” I giggle and try to steady myself, the alcohol swimming in my veins.
“Drunk?” he asks, his lips so close to my mouth, I stare at it. Want it. Am desperate for it.
“Happy. What are you doing here?”
“Reminding you of everything you still want but are denying yourself.”
And with that being his only warning, he slants his lips over mine. Brands mine. Brands me. The kiss is laden with hunger and desperation that has my knees nearly buckling. His tongue clashes with mine and makes my head dizzy. I fist his shirt as he cups my breast and squeezes.
My moan is swallowed by the kiss and the music as my body begs for the feel of his against me. On me. In me.
His hand is in my ponytail like that first night, when he fists it and drags his mouth from mine to come up for air.
“And I’m reminding myself why the fucking confusion is worth it,” he mutters as our gazes lock.
“Callahan.” I don’t know if I’m warning him off or begging him to stay in that one single utterance of his name.
But one thing is clear—the doubt I felt over the past few days is gone. He still wants me.
“Let me get you out of here,” he says.
“That would be a mistake.”
“Wouldn’t be the first one I’ve made.” He offers an arrogant smile that causes that flip-flop in my stomach again.
“No. I mean . . . Brady is here and—”
He looks out to the crowd beyond and then gives a quick shake of his head before saying, “Ours will be even better.” He presses one last kiss to my lips and says, “Go back to your friends then,” before striding away quickly.
“Callahan.” His name is a strangled cry this time. “Please. Stay.” But my words are drowned out by the music, and with his absence, I’m suddenly left feeling lonely. Empty.
That has to be the alcohol talking.
Do I chase after him? Do I run after him and—
“Sutton. There you are,” Brady says as he grabs my arm and puts a drink in my hand. “I thought I lost you.”
“No. Sorry. I was . . .”
“Who was that?” He looks in the direction Callahan just took off in. “A hot hookup for later, I hope.”
“Who was who?” I ask and gulp down the drink. “Oh. That guy.” I wave in the same direction Brady is looking. “He bumped into me and I spilled his drink. That’s all. Nothing more.”
Lies.
All lies. I wanted to keep kissing him. I want to go back to the villa and do more.
But I can’t. I won’t.
I’m definitely going to need more drinks to help with that.