Chapter 19
nineteen
. . .
Meghan
The past few weeks had been a whirlwind.
We’d barely left the penthouse, spending our days lost in an endless cycle of fucking and laughing and talking, then fucking some more. It was intoxicating, this little sanctuary we’d created for ourselves—a place where the rest of the world ceased to exist and all that mattered was chasing that next electrifying high.
But we couldn’t stay tucked away forever. Reality was bound to come crashing in, eventually. And tonight, I was convinced our bubble was destined to burst.
“Are you sure this is a good idea?” I asked, adjusting my little black dress as I stared at my reflection in the gilded elevator doors. We were on our way up to the VIP section of Eclipse, Columbus’ hottest nightclub, and my stomach was twisting itself into knots. “Maybe we should have just stayed in.”
“Relax, gattina.” Marco slid up behind me and nuzzled into my neck. “It’s going to be fine. We’ll have a few drinks, do a little dancing, blow off some steam. ”
I wanted to believe him. But we were tempting fate by venturing out in public.
“He’s right, Meg.” Wick’s voice was a soothing rumble as he stepped up beside me, his hand finding the small of my back. “We can’t stay hidden away forever. And I wanna dance with my girl.”
Despite my nerves, a thrill zinged through me at his words. At the possessive edge to his tone and the heat in his eyes as they raked over me. He looked good enough to eat in his black button-down shirt and dark jeans.
I let my own gaze wander over Marco, taking in the sinful fit of his pants and the way his crimson shirt clung to his chest. With his dark hair artfully disheveled and a wicked gleam in his eyes, he was the walking embodiment of temptation.
Christ, how had I gotten so lucky? To have not just one, but two scorchingly hot men who wanted me? Who were willing to tear down every barrier and rewrite every rule to be with me? It still didn’t feel real sometimes.
The elevator dinged, the doors sliding open to reveal the pulsing lights and throbbing bass of the club. I took a deep breath and straightened my spine. I could do this. We could do this.
As if sensing my thoughts, Wick and Marco each took one of my hands. Together, we stepped out into the fray, ready to face whatever the night might bring.
The club was packed. Pounding music thrummed through the soles of my stilettos, the vibration traveling up my legs and settling somewhere deep in my core. Suddenly, I was grateful for the revealing cut of my dress. Sweat had already begun to bead at my hairline and between my breasts.
We wove through the crowd, Wick’s bulk parting the sea of dancers while I pulled Marco along behind me. I clung to their hands, letting them guide me, trusting them to keep me safe and grounded amidst the chaos. With so many bodies packed so close together, no one would pay much mind to the fact that I was holding both of their hands.
That had been the idea, after all. Make our first public outing in a place where we wouldn’t look any more suspicious than the next scantily clad group. Just three friends out for a night on the town to drink, dance, and have fun.
Finally, we reached the relative sanctuary of the VIP area, a velvet rope and a stern-faced bouncer separating us from the heaving throng below. Wick murmured something to the bouncer, slipping him a folded bill. He nodded and ushered us up a short flight of stairs to a private booth overlooking the dance floor.
“Champagne?” Marco asked, his arm draping across my shoulders.
“God, yes.” I blew out a breath, willing my churning stomach to settle. “Make it a bottle.”
Wick signaled to a passing waitress and placed our order. I tried to push down the rising tide of panic, tried to focus on the solid warmth of Wick and Marco on either side of me.
“Fancy meeting you here, Meghan darling.”
That familiar, poisonously sweet voice had every muscle in my body tensing, my blood turning to ice water in my veins. I lifted my gaze from the tabletop to meet a pair of cold dark eyes in a lovely, sharp-featured face.
Veronica St. Clair. Undisputed queen bee of the Columbus social scene. We’d been friends for years—growing up in the same social circle, partying together—but there was always an undercurrent of competition between us. She was smiling at me with vivid red lips, but there was no warmth in the expression. Only a kind of predatory glee, like a shark scenting blood in the water.
“Veronica. I didn’t expect to see you here.” I plastered on a bright smile of my own, hoping she couldn’t hear the tremor in my voice.
“Well, Eclipse is the place to be these days, or so I’ve heard.” She flicked a perfectly manicured hand toward the dance floor below. “Although I must say, I’m surprised to see you with such...intriguing company.” She looked at Wick and Marco, her smile sharpening as she took in the possessive way they bracketed me on either side. I could see the gears turning in her devious little mind.
“There’s nothing intriguing about it, V.”
“Oh, I’m sure.” Veronica’s voice oozed false sincerity. “Just as I’m sure there’s nothing intriguing about the way Marco’s hand has been inching up your thigh for the past five minutes. Or the way Wick looks like he wants to throw you over his shoulder and carry you off to the nearest cave.”
My cheeks burned and my breath stalled in my lungs. She was right. In my panic, I hadn’t even noticed the way Marco’s fingers were tracing patterns on the sensitive skin of my inner thigh, or the dark, possessive hunger in Wick’s eyes as he watched me.
We were being reckless, sloppy. Practically inviting the scandal Veronica was so eager to uncover. I’d told her about my friends-with-benefits relationship with Marco, and she had figured out years ago that I had a thing for Wick. So what was she thinking now?
“Veronica—” I started, but she cut me off with a tinkling laugh, her eyes glinting with malicious triumph.
“Don’t worry, darling. Your secret is safe with me.” She leaned in closer, her perfume cloying and sticky-sweet. “But you know how fast gossip travels in this town. I’d be careful if I were you.” She flashed me one last razor-edged smile before sauntering away, her hips swaying like a metronome. I watched her go, my heart lodged somewhere in my throat.
“Fuck,” I breathed, slumping back against the booth. “This is bad. This is so, so bad.”
“Hey.” Wick caught my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze. “It’s fine. She said she wouldn’t say anything.”
“Yeah, fuck Veronica. She’s just jealous that she’s not the one in this booth with us.”
Despite the dire situation, I burst out laughing. “Oh my god, can you imagine? She’d eat you both alive.”
“Nah, she couldn’t handle us,” Wick said. “We’re too much for her. Too real.”
Real. The word settled into the cracks of my heart, filling them with warmth and a strength I hadn’t known I possessed. This thing between us, this indefinable, connection, it was the realest thing I’d ever known. And I wasn’t about to let anyone, least of all Veronica Sinclair, ruin it for me. “Let her talk,” I said, my voice ringing with renewed conviction. “Let the whole damn city talk. It doesn’t change what we have, what we are to each other.”
Wick’s hand tightened on my thigh. “And what are we to each other, Meg?”
My gaze flicked between them. These two gorgeous and utterly irreplaceable men. “Everything,” I whispered, the truth of it ringing in my bones. “You’re my everything.”
Something fierce and bright sparked in Wick’s eyes, and I saw an answering echo of it in Marco’s. They both leaned in, their breath mingling with mine, their hands twining with each other’s over my thigh.
“Everything,” Marco repeated, his lips brushing the corner of my mouth. “I like the sound of that.”
“Me too.” Wick rested his forehead against my temple. “Me fucking too.”
We remained entwined for a long time, just breathing each other in, letting the rest of the world fall away. Veronica, the club, the looming specter of scandal, none of it could touch us here.