5. Aidan
I watchher through the glass window of my office, my focus entirely on her. When my security team called me to let me know that Blakely, Bailey, and their friend were here, surprise is an understatement to express what I felt. Doesn’t she know her brother and I own this nightclub? Didn’t he talk about anything related to me at all? I guess it doesn’t matter now.
I can’t tear my eyes from her. Describing her beauty would be like trying to catch a shooting star. Her black dress is like a second skin on her, showing off all the curves that I love. It’s not short but leaves no place for the imagination. I can see the shape of her generous breasts from here.
If she was mine again, I wouldn’t allow her to go out alone dressed like that.
Am I a controlling arsehole? Aye, but it’s nothing new.
She captured the attention of all men present, ready to jump on her on any occasion. And that’s not something I can have. My glass of whisky is long gone as I watch a man approach her from behind and put his hands on her.
The boy is not afraid of death, apparently. My hands itch at the thought of grabbing him by his throat and taking my sweet time cutting his fingers. One. By. One. For touching what’s mine.
“What are you doing?” asks Scott, walking into my office without knocking.
I swear, it’s like this guy doesn’t have his own office. I turn slowly towards him, ignoring the war inside my head. Without saying a word, I direct my gaze to the glass window, revealing what I was observing.
“What are they doing here?” he asks, as surprised as I am.
“Like hell if I know. They don’t know we own this club?”
His hand covers his face as he lets out a sigh. “No. Bailey knows I own one club, but she doesn’t know about this one.”
“And Blakely? You never told her about our business?” I ask because I don’t understand why he would hide that. I mean, the rest, yeah, but that? Our clubs are legit. There is nothing to hide.
“I didn’t. Well, she knows we own a bar, and I guess she knows about the Neox now, but she doesn’t know about this nightclub, and after what happened between the two of you, I avoid talking about you. Well, I have been banned from saying your name in her presence, so I simply didn’t. She literally referred to you as ‘you-know-who.’”
I sigh because this is childish. We’re fucking 36 years old, and he acts like we’re still 20 sometimes. I get it. I really do. He loves his sister, and I know she was broken after us. Fuck. I was broken, too. I still am. But I had to do what I had to do. And he knows it. Damn, he was there.
“Why does this bawbag have his hands on my sister?” His voice increases, resonating through the room. I guess he didn’t see it at first. Welcome to the fucking club. As our eyes meet, I can tell that he recognises the determination in my gaze and won’t stop me.
“And you’re doing nothing?” he asks, knowing oh so well that something is stirring in me.
I look at him blankly, and he understands I’m trying not to lose my shit and put a bullet between the prick’s eyes. He is as torn as me. He doesn’t want Blake to be exposed in this world, but besides that, he is conscious that I’m biding my time. And once it’s up. There’s not a single person in this world that will stop me from taking back what is mine.
“I’m heading downstairs. Don’t do any shit. We have enough to deal with without you killing any guys that would put a hand on my sister.”
I smirk as I see him leave my office.
The music is loud as I make my entrance into the main room. My security guy gives me a slight nod of acknowledgement. It’s subtle. You wouldn’t notice it if you don’t look closely. The club is full of my guys. Nobody would know they’re here. They’re all dressed casually, and their headpieces are designed to blend in unnoticed. I see Scott a few steps away, talking to Shaan. Spotting me, he makes his way over, ready to join the girls.
“Ready?” he asks me. I nod in agreement and walk silently until we reach the girls. They are drunk. Or at least they look like it. Their eyes go wide when they spot us, followed by a gasp.
“Hello, beautiful sis of mine,” says Scott with a smile. He turns towards their friend. “Emilie.” Acknowledging her dryly. Interesting.
“What are you doing here?” Blakely interrupts my thoughts, her eyes locked into mine.
“What do you mean ‘what are we doing here’?” I ask, crossing my arms over my chest.
“Exactly what I meant. What. Are. You. Doing. Here?” she repeats slowly. She is angry. I like that. Bring it on, baby. I like it when you’re feisty. I look at her with a smirk on my face.
“Oh, you mean here, as in here? You don’t know?”
The others look at us back and forth.
“Know what?” She demands. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch a fleeting glimpse of Scott fidgeting, constantly shifting his weight. And for good reason.
“The question is, Miss Reed,” accentuating Miss Reed as she asked me to in court when she got me released, “what are you doing in my nightclub?” She gasps and looks straight at her sister. I know what she’s thinking. She thinks Bailey brought her here, knowing that we own the place.
“Did you know?” she asks accusingly to Bailey.
“I didn’t, I swear.” Bailey’s eyes, clouded with alcohol, gaze at her brother. “Do you? Are you? Scott?” He sighs, nodding his head. Nobody understands their conversation, but it’s clear to me she just asked him if he also owns this club. And he has no choice but to spill it.
“Aye, I own this club as well.” Blakely looks like she’s been betrayed but says nothing.
“Why didn’t you tell me you owned a nightclub?” Blake asks.
Scott shrugs, “I… hmm… wanted to tell you but…” She nods in understanding, not needing to add more.
“I…” Blake starts. “I didn’t check more than necessary for the trial.”
The way she avoids learning more about us, about me, is like a closed door, shutting out any chance of connection.
“Okayyy, well, now that everyone is here, what do you say about shots?” The legal assistant asks.
“Don’t you think you had enough to drink for tonight?” spits Scott.
“Aww, Scottyyy,” she coos. “Who are you? The police of shots?” He opens his mouth to fire back, but she shushes him with her hand in the air. “That was a rhetorical question.”
I chuckle because not many people would talk to Scott that way.
He might look soft when it comes to his sisters, but I’ve seen the man kill with his bare hands. I lean on my chair and take a closer look at Blakely. She looks dishevelled after spending so much time on the dance floor. Her eyes are shiny and glassy from the effects of the alcohol. Her lips. The same lips I’ve been dreaming about for years.
“SHOTS,” Emilie yells over the music when she comes back over to us. Bailey takes a sip of her drink and spits it out.
“What are you doing?” asks Scott with wide eyes. “It’s a shot. It’s not supposed to be sipped like you just did.”
“Are you trying to kill me?” asks Bailey, looking up at Emilie. Blake’s smile behind her glass is evident.
“It’s a shot of vodka. It’s good for you,” Emilie retorts.
“I think I had too much to drink. It tastes like ‘Eau-de-vie’,” Bailey says with what I think is a French accent. Scott and I probably look confused as she turns to face us and adds, “That’s 90% alcohol.”
“Who’s crazy enough to drink something that’s 90% alcohol?” asks Scott with wide eyes.
They reply in unison, “The French.” And giggle.
Out of the corner of my eye, I spot the muscle guy from earlier making his way towards us, gravitating towards Blake.
“My invitation still stands, beautiful.” I hear him say. “You sure you don’t wanna come?” The tightness of my fist makes my knuckles feel icy cold, and the intense desire to smash his face against the table tests my self-restraint to the limit.
Scott is observing me attentively, probably waiting for me to lose my shit, but the intense gaze he gives him is as sharp as the daggers in his eyes. The helium guy says something that makes her laugh. Fucking. Laugh.
“Thanks for the offer, but I’m good. I’m sure you’ll find someone else to entertain you throughout the night,” Blakely replies with a faint smile on her face.
“Alright, beautiful. I couldn’t leave without asking one last time,” he adds before leaving.
I take a breath that I didn’t know I needed. I’m confused when she stands from her seat. Didn’t she refuse his offer?
“Where are you going?” asks Emilie, and God bless her. I’m starting to like this fiery woman more and more.
“I need to use the loo,” answers Blake.
“Do you want me to come with you?” That’s Bailey’s turn to speak. What’s this thing with women going to the bathroom in groups? I’ll never understand that.
“Nah, I’m good. You enjoy. I’ll be back shortly.” With that, she walks away.
I wait a few minutes before moving as well. No need to explain where I’m going. The girls are deep into their conversation. Scott is the only one to see me, and he knows exactly where I’m going. He sighs and shakes his head, but I’ve been patient enough tonight. The need to be closer to her and to have her deep black eyes looking at me is consuming me.
I walk towards the bathroom and wait until she’s out. I hear the sound of the opening door when she appears. She stops mid-steps, looking at me.
“Seriously?” she asks.
I take a step closer to her. I can smell her vanilla scent mix with the alcohol she has consumed tonight. Her piercing black eyes stare directly into my being. As she takes a step back, I move closer until she’s trapped between my body and the wall.
“Aidan? What are you doing?” Her voice is rough and gravelly, like sandpaper rubbing against wood, when she speaks.
“I just want to talk,” I say.
“And for that, you needed to cage me against this wall?” My brat is back.
I take a deep breath, not wanting to lose it. “You let him touch you.”
“What?” she asks, struggling to make sense of what I’m saying.
“You. Let. Him. Touch. You,” I repeat, articulating my words.
“Are you fucking serious right now?” The tension in her jaw and the way she clenches her fists betray the anger that fuels her. “I do whatever the fuck I want. If I want someone to touch me, that’s my problem. If I want someone to kiss me, that’s my problem. If I want someone to fuck me, that’s my problem. You have nothing to say about what I do, when I do it, and who I do it with.” Her chest heaves as she finishes her tirade, almost out of breath.
I grab her by the throat and lean closer to her face. She gasps at my grip. “That’s where you’re wrong, baby.” Our lips are almost touching. I squeeze her throat a bit more, but not too much that she can’t breathe. “If you care about their lives, you’ll stay away from them. I won’t hesitate to do what I have to do.” Her breath quickens.
“Do not threaten me.” As I grip her tightly, she snaps, her voice coming out in a rough, scratchy whisper.
“Oh, but it’s not a threat. It’s a promise.” I take one final look at her before I release her, and then I turn and walk away without looking back.