Epilogue
Presley
“Oh, damn. You look nice,” I exclaim as I come to a screeching halt in the middle of our bedroom. The sound of crashing waves echoes softly in the background.
We’ve been in our new house for about six weeks. Renos took a little longer than we anticipated. With the holidays and back orders, we ended up having to stay in our apartment for a while.
But it was worth it. The house is exactly how we imagined it. Creamy white walls. Beautiful hardwood floors throughout. Comfy couches and soft textures. Everything is understated, designed not to distract from the stunning view of the Pacific.
We walk along the shoreline almost every night.
I never want to leave.
Hollis is standing in front of the full-length mirror, adjusting a sleek black tie. It looks amazing with the trim black suit I chose for him.
My mouth practically waters.
His eyes meet mine in the mirror and spark with heat.
“Jesus. Not as nice as you,” he replies, abandoning his tie to pivot on his heels and face me.
I watch as his gaze rakes over every inch of me.
I had no idea what to pick out for this event.
I decided to go with something sexy, but with a bit of an edge.
The tight leather mini dress does just that and was clearly a good choice, judging by the way my husband is devouring me with his eyes right now.
He closes the distance between us and wraps an arm around my waist. “What if we just skipped this thing tonight and spent the evening peeling this dress off you instead?”
My lips twitch with amusement. “And by this thing, you mean the opening night of your new club?”
He nods.
“The one everyone in LA is dying to get into. The club that even top celebrities are clamoring to visit? That thing?”
He shrugs, lip twitching. “I mean, when you put it like that…”
I laugh. “Are you nervous, Hollis?”
“Fucking terrified.”
I wrap my arms around him. “What about?”
“Running an entire club on my own. Failing miserably. Having to wear a suit every damn day again.”
I try to fight the grin he’s causing. He really hates suits.
“First of all, you’re not alone. Is Jonas all by himself in Nashville?”
“No,” he answers right away. “I’m just a phone call away. Plus, we have management staff and—” He presses his lips together, intentionally pausing. “I see your point.”
“Good. You also know that fear of failing is perfectly normal when starting something new. Especially when you care so much.”
“Pretty sure I’ve told you that a time or two when it comes to the bar.”
“You did,” I agree. “And I’m glad you did. Sometimes we need a reminder. If I had let my fear and doubt consume me, it would have ruined any chances I had of righting the wrongs Jace had done under my watch.”
It had been about six months since Jace broke into the bar and nearly destroyed us. Three months since he threatened and tried to extort me for money.
And he didn’t get away with any of it.
Under the guidance of his lawyer, Jace took a plea deal and received a four-year prison sentence. There are days when I still look back and feel like I should have done more, noticed more.
But then I remind myself I am not responsible for his poor choices.
Unfortunately, I am responsible for the consequences of those choices, and it took a while for the bar to recoup the losses he stole from the stockroom.
“The bar is flourishing because of you.”
“Because of us,” I correct him. “And this club is going to do the same.”
“Okay.”
“As for the suits…” I run a hand down his lapel, causing him to laugh.
“You are the owner, if I remember correctly. I do believe that gives you the power to make your own rules.” His eyes flare like he’s never even contemplated that idea.
“Also, it’s not every day. You hired a manager so you could spend your weekends with your wife. ”
His lips quirk. “Yes, and when is my wife going to hire a manager?”
“Soon.” I shrug, but then give him a flirty wink. “What’s the hurry when you do the work for free?”
“You just like having me around.”
I shrug. “You are very pretty to look at. Plus, I love seeing the way you blush every time someone comes in and asks for a picture with Hero Hollis.”
He rolls his eyes. “I really thought that would blow over.”
“You clearly underestimated the power of BookTok.”
“You clearly overestimate my understanding of the meaning of BookTok.”
I start to adjust his tie. “Well, I’d love to explain—again—but we should probably get going. Don’t want to be late to this thing,” I say with a hint of amusement. “You and Jonas are the guests of honor after all.”
He groans. “Don’t remind me.”
I pat his shoulder. “Don’t worry. If what Hen says is true and Asher shows up, no one will care about you in the slightest.”
“See, that might upset someone else, but for me, it’s actually very calming. Thanks.”
Smiling, I say, “Maybe we could even sneak off and celebrate privately in your office?”
He perks up. “Well, it is a pretty big deal.”
“That’s the spirit.”
HOLLIS
There are so many people here. Too many people.
My hands start to get clammy. My pulse starts to race.
Something doesn’t feel right.
Our driver is sitting in a line of cars, inching closer to the club.
“What’s the holdup?” I lean forward, trying to get a better view from the front. “Can you see anything?”
He shakes his head. “Nothing, sir. I think there are just too many cars. Not enough parking.”
Well, that appears pretty obvious.
But the question is why.
This is an invite-only event. An exclusive, invite-only event.
Sure, there is a lot of buzz around the opening of the club. And like Pres said, everyone in LA is clamoring to get their chance to walk through the doors, including top-name celebrities.
But we didn’t publicize who was attending tonight’s opening. We didn’t invite the press. Doesn’t mean I didn’t expect a few to show up anyway, but we have protocol in place to distract them.
Because we’re selling an experience, and we can’t do that if there are screaming fans and flashing cameras everywhere.
“Fuck.” I blow out a breath.
“Do you think someone told the press?” Pres asks.
I shake my head, scrubbing a hand down my face. “Not anyone on the list, at least,” I say. “Jonas and I handpicked everyone. Not a single one of them would want this circus following them. It’s why we chose them. We knew they’d want what the club had to offer.”
Exclusivity. Privacy. Anonymity.
“Someone else then?”
“Maybe.”
The car lurches forward, but at this pace, we’re better off walking. In the mob outside, though, I’m not so sure it’s worth the risk.
My phone starts to buzz, and I quickly pull it out of my pocket. Relief sweeps over me when I see Jonas’s name flash across the screen.
“Hey,” I answer.
But before I can say anything else, he cuts me off and says, “Where are you?”
“Stuck around the block in traffic. Where are you?”
“Also stuck in fucking traffic,” he growls. “I was hoping at least one of us would be inside.”
“Do you know what the hell is going on?”
“No,” he answers. “But this is not the vibe we were going for, Hollis. I know there is a lot of buzz around the club, and I expected a bit of noise outside—people always show up when there’s talk of celebrities—but this is insane.
It looks like the merch line Keisha made me stand in at the Taylor Swift concert. ”
“Oh my god. It wasn’t that bad,” I hear her mutter.
“It was three fucking hours!”
“Why don’t we get out and walk?” Pres suggests, looking out the window in hopes of catching a glimpse of the hotel.
“Are you sure?” I cast a wary glance at the crowd.
“It’s either that or we sit in this car for the next hour or two.”
My eyes dart from her to the sidewalk. “Okay,” I agree, then I address Jonas. “Hey, we’re gonna walk to the club. I’ll let you know what we find out.”
“Okay,” he says. “We might join you if it doesn’t get any better shortly.”
“Sounds good.”
I inform the driver that we’ll be taking it from here and give him a hefty tip, feeling guilty that he’ll be stuck in this traffic for the foreseeable future.
When we step out of the car, I do my best to shield Pres from the crowd, wrapping an arm around her waist as we make quick work down the street toward the club.
If anyone recognizes us, I don’t pay any attention. I just keep focused on making it to our destination so I can figure out why the fuck all these people are here in the first place.
It occurs to me that I could probably ask one of them, but that would risk exposing us, and since that awkward Hero Hollis thing is still alive and well…
Yeah, no thanks.
We finally make it to the back entrance of Vine. It’s where VIP guests are supposed to check in and where the bouncer meets us.
“Evening, Mr. Creed.”
“Hi, Kevin. How many guests have checked in?” I ask him.
“Only a few,” he replies, glancing at the list.
“Fuck. Can I see?”
Sure enough, almost every name remains unchecked.
Not that I’m surprised. The crowd outside is enough to spook even the bravest celebrities into staying in for the night.
I scan the list and let out a sigh of relief. “The family is here,” I tell Pres. “Even Hen and Zander.”
“They wouldn’t miss this. You know that.”
I swallow hard, feeling a lump in my throat. “I know.”
“Come on.” She takes my hand. “Let’s go find them. Maybe they’ll know what’s going on.”
“Okay,” I reply, then thank Kevin and head inside.
The place is gorgeous. Brimming with elegance and old Hollywood charm, it’s everything Jonas said it could be.
And more.
The only thing that’s missing is the crowd.
The small groups of people wandering around make the space seem a little overwhelming.
It reminds me of the one and only time I went to a school dance in middle school.
I showed up early, and the boys were all huddled on one side, the girls on the other.
The gym looked so much larger in the dark, like it could swallow us whole.
That’s how the club looks right now, and I hate it.
My stomach twists.
This is not how tonight is supposed to go.
Pres suddenly raises her hand and waves, and I look to where she’s signaling and see the rest of the Creeds huddled together. Lance looks up, his face far too serious for tonight’s festivities.
“That doesn’t look good,” Pres comments.
“No,” I agree. “Come on, let’s go figure out what’s wrong.”
We cross what is meant to be the dance floor, but is now just an empty space in the middle of the room, to get to the rest of the family.
They greet us with hugs, but the hellos are overshadowed by something. Everyone seems tense.
“Anyone want to tell us what’s going on?”
They all look at each other. Finally, Lance speaks up. “Asher’s publicist went rogue. She got fed up with him refusing to make public appearances and declining interviews. Said he was ruining his career by turning himself into a hermit.”
“What does that have to do with my club?”
“We’re unsure if the two are connected, but given the timing, it is highly suspicious,” Hen takes over. “Some pics were posted online yesterday. Then, an hour later, his publicist announced he was attending your opening.”
I don’t ask what kind of pics. If they were posted online, they’re never the good kind. “Fucking hell.”
“It gets worse.”
“How much worse?” Pres asks.
“Asher’s gone. He flew back to Scotland. He says he’s not coming back,” Zander says, pain etched in every word. “He quit the band.”