30 JULIAN
Despite Vegas being known for it’s glitz and glamor, this place is a fucking dump. The basement fight club reeks of stale beer and sweat. This place makes our setup look like the Four Seasons. I scan the dimly lit room, taking in the exposed pipes and concrete walls covered in god-knows-what stains.
"This is a shit show," Tobias mutters beside me.
"No kidding." I dodge a drunk stumbling past. "At least our guys wear gloves."
Two fighters circle each other in the makeshift ring - really just some rope strung between poles. One guy's already bleeding from his nose, but neither seems interested in backing down.
A group of suits huddle near the bar, speaking in hushed tones.
Something about their body language sets off warning bells.
"Three o'clock," I nudge Tobias. "Those guys look familiar?"
He takes a slow sip of his beer. "Yeah. They were at the bar last month. The ones who kept pushing for harder fights."
We edge closer, trying to look casual. The tallest suit gestures animatedly.
"...teach that pretty boy a lesson," he's saying. "His operation's getting too big for its britches."
My fingers tighten around my glass. Tobias's massive frame tenses beside me.
"Already sent him a message," another adds with a smirk. "But his crew's tough. Might need to hit closer to home."
I lean in, keeping my voice low. “They think Corey’s too straight- laced, huh? That’s rich coming from a couple of wannabe mobsters.”
Tobias smirks, eyes flicking to the suits.
“What do they want? We run an organized ring, not a slaughterhouse.”
One of the suits slaps his knee and leans closer to the group.
“Let me tell you, boys—good money isn’t won by playing fair. We have to intervene.”
The taller guy, with slicked-back hair and an attitude to match, crosses his arms.
“We could start by taking out his staff. Make it personal.”
"That new bartender though..." The first guy continues. "Now that could be interesting."
I feel him advance before I see him. Tobias pupils are blown and he’s ready to unleash hell.
"Enough," I mutter to Tobias, grabbing him by the arm. "We have to be smart about this. For her sake. We got what we needed. Now let’s get the fuck out of here."
We make our way to the exit, shouldering past the drunken crowd. Outside, the cool night air helps clear my head, but does nothing for the rage burning in my chest.
"They're going after Rhea," Tobias growls.
"Not if we get to them first." I pull out my phone to call Corey.
The neon lights of the bar flicker as Tobias and I push through the door, the low hum of music wrapping around us like a warm blanket.
I can only handle Tobias’ raging and fuming in the car for so long before I need a fucking drink. We both need a level head before we return home.
It’s one of those nights where tension hangs heavy in the air, a reminder that we’ve just stepped away from chaos. I scan the crowd; it’s a mix of college kids and locals trying to forget their lives for a few hours.
“Beer?” Tobias suggests, heading straight for the bar.
“Make it two.” I follow him, feeling the weight of our conversation earlier still lodged in my chest.
He leans against the counter, eyeing the bartender with barely concealed irritation. “Let’s hope they have something decent on tap.”
“Not much can curb that shit we just dealt with,” I reply, shaking my head. “Those guys were just asking for fucking trouble.”
“Yeah, well, trouble has a way of finding us.” He folds his arms across his massive chest, looking like a sentinel ready to spring into action.
Just as I’m about to respond, a blonde walks up, swaying her hips with confidence. She wears a tight black dress that hugs every curve and bright red lipstick that practically screams for attention.
“Hey there,” she purrs at me, leaning on the bar like it’s her throne.
“What’s a guy like you doing in a place like this?”
I flash her my most charming smile—always good to keep things light in these kinds of situations.
“Trying to unwind after some— intense business.”
She raises an eyebrow, clearly intrigued.
“Intense? You don’t look like you’re from around here.”
“That obvious?” I chuckle softly, glancing at Tobias who’s now thoroughly entertained by this exchange.
“Only because you look way too good to be dealing with all… this.” She gestures vaguely at the crowd before turning back to me.
“Name’s Alexis.”
“Julian,” I say smoothly, extending my hand for a shake. Her grip is firm; she definitely knows how to handle herself.
“You’re not just here for fun, are you?” she asks playfully, biting her lip as if teasing out secrets from me.
Tobias interrupts before I can respond. “You know he might actually be dangerous.” His voice is deep but light enough not to intimidate her outright.
“Oh please,” she laughs lightly, undeterred. “Dangerous can be fun too.” Tobias shakes his head but hides his grin..
I lean closer to Alexis, lowering my voice conspiratorially. “I’d argue that danger has its perkst.” Her eyes sparkle with mischief as she studies me—clearly weighing options and possibilities. Just then, the bartender finally appears with our drinks.
“This should help ease some tension,” I say, raising my glass toward Tobias before taking a swig of mine.
Alexis leans against the bar again, looking between us like we’re part of some elaborate game she wants in on. The atmosphere buzzes around us; laughter and clinking glasses blend into background noise while our conversation unfolds in its own bubble.
She slides off the barstool, her hips swaying with a deliberate rhythm. “Excuse me, boys,” she says with a teasing smile. “Gotta freshen up.” The way she glances back at me over her shoulder makes it clear that she’s not just going to the bathroom.
“Good luck,” Tobias calls after her, chuckling.
He turns to me, eyebrows raised in amusement.
“Go ahead, man. I relieve my tension with alcohol; you relieve yours with pussy. Hurry back.”
I roll my eyes, a smirk tugging at my lips.
“Yeah, yeah, keep your pants on.” I push off the bar and head toward the bathroom area, weaving through a cluster of patrons oblivious to the world around them.
The buzz of conversations mixes with the low thump of music, creating a heady atmosphere that pulls me in deeper. As I step into the dimly lit hallway leading to the restrooms, I catch a whiff of something sweet mixed with stale smoke—classic bar vibes.
Throught the smoke filled haze I see her, grinning like a Cheshire cat. She bites her lip and I know what she wants.
I grab her hand and pull her into the bathroom, kicking the door shut behind us. Her back hits the wall as my mouth crashes into hers. Her fingers tangle in my hair, pulling me closer. The heat between us is electric, dangerous.
"Julian," she gasps as I trail kisses down her neck.
My hands slide under her shirt, feeling the soft skin of her waist.
She arches into my touch. I should want this. Any other time, with any other woman, I'd be all in.
But Rhea isn't just any woman. And it’s her face I’m seeing right now, and her body I’m imagining pressed against me.
The old Julian would be down for a quick fuck in a bar bathroom.
But that was the old Julian before Rhea Spry. Before she weaved herself into my fucking head.
"Fuck." I pull back, pressing my forehead against the wall beside her head. My breathing comes in harsh pants.
"What's wrong?" Her fingers trace patterns on my chest.
"I can't do this." The words taste bitter.
"Why not? Come on handsome, I won’t tell.” She says while fumbling with my belt.
I step back, running a hand down my face. "Because… because you’re not her."
Alexis stares at me. Her cheeks turning the color of her red lipstick.
"I'm sorry," I say, meaning it. "I should go."
I push through the bathroom door, my heart still racing from that moment with Alexis. I head straight to the bar, throwing down a handful of cash like it’s confetti. Tobias looks up from the barstool, eyebrows raised.
“Come on,” I bark at him, motioning for him to follow me.
He downs the rest of his beer, leaving his glass by the door.
“What was that about?” he asks, his tone teasing yet curious.
I shake my head, running a hand through my unruly hair. “I don’t know, man. I just couldn’t fucking go through with it.” The frustration in my voice surprises even me.
Tobias leans against the car, arms crossed, a smirk dancing on his lips. “I do,” he says confidently. “Has to do with a curly-haired spitfire with a smartass attitude.” I scoff, but can’t help the grin tugging at my lips. “You’re not wrong. Just get in the fucking car, let’s go home.”