9. Chapter Nine
Chapter Nine
My Date
Simone
Having Luca Moreau follow me around like a mother hen guarding her chicks might be worse than taking a bullet.
Maybe I should have jumped in front of one at the gala. At least then I’d be confined to a hospital bed instead of having him trail me like an exceptionally large, brooding shadow.
But there’s nothing I can do about Luca now except endure him.
That’s exactly what I intend to do.
I barely wait for him to park in the VIP lot before climbing out and slamming the door hard enough to suggest it personally offended me.
I can’t stand him.
Unfortunately, I’m also stuck with him.
Avoiding him seems like the best solution, which would be easier if he weren’t walking several steps behind me as I approach the Devil’s Pit.
It’s an underground private club designed for people who don’t want to be seen.
Specifically, people wealthy enough to pay for invisibility.
Every form of debauchery exists inside. Every shade of sin. It’s one of the few places in the city where celebrities, heirs, and politicians can behave badly without immediately finding photographs splashed across the internet.
My heels strike the pavement as I approach the discreet entrance hidden beneath the neon sign of an otherwise ordinary record store.
The temperature has dropped even further.
I want to wrap both arms around myself but doing that would prove Luca was right about my dress.
I refuse to give him the satisfaction.
So I let the cold punish me.
I flash my key card at an unmarked steel door.
A buzzer sounds, and the entrance opens onto a world of velvet shadows and bass so deep it vibrates beneath my feet.
The party is already in full swing.
Lights flash from a mirrored ball overhead. Bodies cover the dance floor, slick with sweat and tangled together. Couples make out against walls and in booths. Several people look seconds away from having sex in public.
The club smells like alcohol, smoke, sweat, and bad decisions.
It’s perfect.
People swarm me the moment I enter, offering compliments and drinks as though they’re handing out candy.
It takes less than a minute for me to become the center of attention.
To be recognized.
Adored.
Treated like royalty.
Fuck yes.
Attention rarely disappoints me.
Delphine, Camille, and Blossom are friends I met during college through the same endless circuit of wealthy families and society events.
Mariel and Livia are different.
I’ve known them since high school. They’re my oldest friends, and they’re currently grinning as they pull me toward their group.
“I can’t believe you actually came,” Livia says, pushing a drink into my hand.
I tip my head back and swallow.
Heat burns down my throat, loosening something tight inside me.
It numbs me just enough.
Enough to ignore the fear still circling beneath my anger.
Enough to forget the way Luca looked at me in the garden—as though, for one suspended second, he didn’t see a responsibility or a burden.
He saw a woman.
Maybe the tabloids are right.
Maybe Simone Rochefort really is the perfect representation of hedonism.
The thought almost makes me laugh.
Not that I care what they think.
“Come on, Liv,” Mariel says. “If Simone promises to be somewhere, she’ll show up. Life-threatening incident or not.”
Then she turns toward me, concern pulling her lips into a pout.
“But seriously, are you—”
“If one more person asks whether I’m okay, I might lose my mind.”
Mariel laughs. “Fine. Fuck it. Let’s party.”
Excitement pounds through my blood.
Hot.
Fast.
Hungry.
I didn’t realize how desperately I needed this until I escaped the estate.
I want to throw my hands into the air and scream.
Then Livia looks past me.
“Oh, my God. Who is that?”
I follow her gaze.
Of course.
Luca is approaching.
A black shirt stretches across his chest, paired with dark jeans that make him look both underdressed and more attractive than every man wearing designer silk around him.
He doesn’t have to make an effort to stand out.
Several strands of black hair fall over his forehead as his eyes scan every corner of the club.
One look at him—at his expression, posture, and the way he catalogs every person in the room—and anyone can tell he isn’t here to have fun.
My stomach drops.
“And why is he coming over here?” Mariel asks.
Her voice contains far too much excitement.
Both women study him like a new exhibit at a museum.
Livia looks prepared to remove his clothes with her teeth.
Wonderful.
“He’s…” I begin.
I mentally search for an explanation that doesn’t involve admitting I’m under twenty-four-hour protection.
I can’t tell them Dad has saddled me with a personal bodyguard like I’m a hostage.
And I certainly can’t admit Luca caught me sneaking out after curfew.
Mariel looks at me expectantly.
I sigh and rub one finger over my eyebrow.
“That’s Luca. He’s—”
“Her date.”
His voice is low but carries effortlessly over the music.
I blink.
Maybe I didn’t hear him correctly.
Then he’s beside me, sliding one hand against the small of my back.
His touch is light.
Firm.
Hot enough to burn through the thin fabric of my dress.
He offers Mariel and Livia an easy smile.
An actual smile.
I’m no longer sure what’s happening.
Or why he said that.
Or why I’m allowing him to touch me.
Or why every part of my body seems delighted by it.
My brain may have stopped functioning altogether.
My friends’ mouths fall open.
Mariel blinks first.
“Oh?”
She looks between us, eyes overflowing with questions.
Everyone in our little circle appears equally fascinated.
I wish their reactions were exaggerated, but Luca truly is that beautiful.
“Since when do you bring dates?” one of the men asks, his tone caught between teasing and suspicion.
I open my mouth to correct Luca.
No, he isn’t my date.
I don’t know why he said that.
Actually, I don’t know this man.
But Luca has already committed to the performance.
He angles his body toward mine, protective and intimate at the same time. His hand remains on my back, and I can feel each finger like a brand against my skin.
My heart reacts violently.
To the touch.
To him.
Oh, God.
No.
Absolutely not.
“Didn’t want her arriving alone tonight,” Luca says.
His gaze flicks toward mine.
His eyes are intensely green beneath the club lights, and he looks at me as though we’re sharing a private joke no one bothered to explain to me.
I stare back, lips parted, struggling to decide what I’m supposed to say.
In my defense, no one warned me we were doing this.
“Well, damn.” Mariel raises her glass. “You never told us you were hiding this one.”
I laugh, although it comes out slightly strangled.
“Neither did he.”
I grab Luca’s wrist.
“If you’ll excuse us, I need a private conversation with my date.”
The women giggle and tell me to take all the time I need.
I drag Luca into a narrow hallway lit by flickering wall sconces.
He follows without resisting, almost as though he enjoys being manhandled.
I don’t believe that for a second.
The only thing Luca enjoys is being a prick.
I release him once we’re out of earshot and spin around.
“Would you like to explain what the hell that was?”
Luca looks entirely unbothered.
“I did what you asked.”
“I asked you to tell everyone you were my date?”
“You told me to blend in.”
His expression remains deadpan.
“You specifically said not to embarrass you by standing around looking like a bodyguard.”
“I was going to explain.”
“Explain what?”
He lifts one perfectly shaped eyebrow.
“That your armed babysitter had to crash girls’ night?”
I hate how calm he is.
I hate even more that his reasoning makes sense.
“So your brilliant solution was to flirt your way inside?”
His eyes move deliberately down my body.
“I didn’t flirt.”
He tilts his head, and for some deeply unfair reason, the movement makes him twice as attractive.
“I improvised because you were about to embarrass yourself.”
“I was not.”
“You wanted me to act as though I came here to enjoy the party instead of hovering over you.”
His mouth almost curves.
“Now I can remain close without ruining your evening.”
“My evening was ruined when you became my bodyguard.”
“Same.”
I cross my arms and ignore the heat climbing into my face.
“Well, congratulations, smart-ass. You’ve now implied that we’re…”
“What?”
His eyes hold mine.
“Close?”
“That isn’t the word I was going to use.”
“It’s still better than allowing everyone to believe you’re being followed like a teenager on probation.”
He has a point.
Naturally, I hate that.
“Fine.”
I drop my arms and lift my chin.
Even in heels, he towers over me.
“Be my date. I don’t care.”
Then I press one finger against his chest.
His gaze drops to it before returning to my face.
“But stay out of my way. Are we clear?”
“Crystal.”
I turn and walk away.
Of course, he follows.
My friends wave us toward the VIP booth they reserved.
I sit, and Luca lowers himself beside me, completely ignoring my demand for distance.
Then again, if we want this ridiculous story to appear convincing, I suppose I have to acknowledge that he exists.
“What happened to that beautiful blue-eyed Frenchman you’re dating?” Mariel asks as a server delivers another round of drinks.
“Does Adrien know about your…”
She looks toward Luca and struggles to choose a suitable description.
“…delicious friend?”
I settle back into my role.
“You’re forgetting that I can do whatever I want.”
For the next several minutes, we talk, dance, and drink.
Luca remains a steady presence beside me, but at least he stays quiet.
He watches without interfering.
I almost forget he’s there.
Then Livia becomes tipsy.
She smiles at Luca.
Then laughs.
Her eyes turn unmistakably suggestive as she leans toward him.
“So, Luca…”
She traces one finger along the inner seam of his sleeve.
“If Simone ever needs a night off, do you think she’d let a friend borrow you?”
Everyone laughs.
It’s hilarious.
Ha.
Ha.
Ha.
Her finger sliding along Luca’s arm isn’t funny.
I finish my vodka and stand before I can do something irrational.
My smile remains fixed in place.
“I need some air.”
I give Luca a look that clearly says Do not follow me.