Night for Unsung Desires: A Bad Boy Billionaire Romance

Chapter 1

Getthe fuck off my property before I have you arrested, I growl, my voice low and dangerous.

This drunk idiot charges at me, his fists balled up and eyes wild with intoxicated rage. In one swift motion, I grab the collar of his shirt and yank him forward, our faces inches apart.

His friends take a hesitant step forward, but I shoot them a withering glare that freezes them in place. The drunk guy struggles against my grip, spittle flying from his lips as he hurls drunken insults.

You think youre better than me? Huh? Your fancy club and your pretty little posters?

His words are a slurred mess, the stench of alcohol fuming with each breath.

Ill show you. Ill show all of you!

His attempts to free himself are futile, his strength no match for mine. With a contemptuous sneer, I release him, letting him stumble backwards.

And dont even think about coming back to Club Allure, I snarl before turning on my heel and striding away, leaving the pathetic group behind.

As I approach the front entrance, the roar of the crowd waiting to get in washes over me.

Hundreds of New Yorks wealthiest socialites and celebrities are lined up, giddy with anticipation for tonights exclusive concert event. Their eager screams and chatter fill the air with an electric vibe that never fails to thrill me.

I glance up at the massive marquee emblazoned with the name Drea Joy. Shes a pop princess whose music is all the rage with my youthful clientele these days.

Her sugary anthems about heartbreak and self-empowerment arent really my style, but she draws a crowd. And in this business, the crowd is everything.

To cater to an even broader demographic, I booked Logan Channing to open for her. The bad boy rockers gritty sound and rebellious image are sure to balance out Drea Joys more wholesome appeal.

Its all about giving people what they want. Even if their tastes baffle me sometimes.

I weave through the throngs of well-dressed patrons, nodding politely at the occasional familiar face as I make my way to the entrance.

My staff is a well-oiled machine, checking IDs and stamping wrists with practiced efficiency under the watchful eyes of my security team.

Doors open in fifteen, Damien, Vince, the head of security, murmurs into his headset as I pass. I give him a curt nod of acknowledgment.

Club Allure is my empire, my lifes work. Alongside my business partners and best friends—Jackson Pierce, Ethan Callahan, Landon Sinclair, and Andres Winchester. Weve built this exclusive playground for Manhattans elite from the ground up.

From booking the talent to marketing to security, every aspect is carefully curated to create an unparalleled nightlife experience.

Tonights concert is just the latest event in our ongoing evolution. With our recent decision to transition Club Allure into a private members-only establishment.

We need high-profile events like this to drive interest and cement our status as the citys premiere destination for the fabulously wealthy.

Leaving the organized chaos of the entrance behind, I head up the sleek staircase to the VIP lounge where my partners are waiting. This is our inner sanctum, our home base from which we oversee every decadent detail of the clubs operations.

I push through the heavy doors into the plush VIP area. Jackson and Haley are cuddled up on one of the oversized sofas, whispering intimately.

Ethan sits across from them with his wife, Kristine, sitting on his lap. Even Landon has brought a date tonight, some willowy blonde model draped over him possessively.

Andres slouches in the corner, swirling his scotch. He scans the room, a faint sneer on his lips. He knocks back the liquor, silently waiting for the event to start.

As I join them, grabbing a tumbler of scotch from the bar, I cant help but feel a sense of pride and accomplishment. Not just for the success of Club Allure, but for the family weve forged together through all our shared struggles and triumphs.

These people are more than just business partners. Theyre the only real family Ive ever known.

There he is, Jackson calls out with a teasing grin, raising his glass in mock salute. Everything ready for tonight, Damien?

I settle into one of the plush armchairs with a wry chuckle. You know me, I like to make an entrance. But yeah, were all set for Miss Drea Joy to take the stage and wow our guests with her... talents.

A hint of sarcasm laces my words, betraying my indifference towards the nights musical acts. But this event isnt about catering to my personal tastes.

Tonights about giving our exclusive clientele an unforgettable experience theyll be talking about for months. An experience that will have them clamoring to join our newly minted members-only club when the doors finally open.

Ethan arches an eyebrow at me, his lips quirked in an amused smirk. What, youre not a fan of Americas next pop queen? I figured cheesy pop ballads were right up your alley.

I flip him off good-naturedly, and we all share a laugh.

Oh, no. This cant be good. Kristinas voice cuts through the din, forcing my gaze up from my phones screen.

Ethan absentmindedly strokes her thigh as he speaks in a barely audible voice to the clubs security staff. Evidently, the two make an adorably gross and happy couple, as do Jackson and Haley.

What is it? I inquire with a frown, focusing my attention on my best friends wife.

Kristina holds up the cell phone and turns it so that the screen is right at my eye level.

My eyes dart around the screen, and I spot one of our promotional posters plastered on a digital billboard, the same one thats been popping up everywhere in the city and all over social media.

The picture shows Drea Joy, undoubtedly beautiful. She has large aquamarine blue eyes and blonde hair that falls over her face in straight waves. The crisscrossing lights dance across her features, casting a captivating expression.

Below the image of the beautiful woman, the name Drea Joy stands out in large gold letters, immediately catching my eye.

I stare into her eyes, transfixed. Theres a flicker of something haunting in their depths—a sadness, a longing. It tugs at me, stirs a familiar ache I cant quite name. Her gaze holds mine, unguarded for a fleeting moment. I sense a connection, a strange kinship born of shared ghosts.

My pulse quickens as I fight the urge to reach out and soothe the melancholy I see mirrored in her eyes.

What is it about this woman that calls to the shadows within me?

Damien? Kristine leans forward.

Yeah. My bad. What am I looking at? I inquire.

From what I understood, Ethan and Jacksons wives have been incredibly excited about the fact that one of the biggest and most recognizable stars of today was performing at Club Allure tonight.

That’s precisely the reason why we’re all in the VIP room of the club right now, waiting for the show.

Kristina zooms in on the poster, pointing out the names of other acts opening tonight.

This is what Im talking about. She points at Logans name

Hes a regular. What am I missing?

Haleys eyes widen like saucers. She looks as shocked as Kristina herself.

What, dont you know? Haley joins the conversation.

I exhale, trying not to roll my eyes. Just spill it, Haley. Explain what Im missing.

Kristina shakes her head as Haley settles into the armchair she shares with Jackson. Haley leaned in, lowering her voice as if sharing a juicy secret. Andrea and Logan were a thing, you know? They were together for about a year, but with all the media attention they got, it felt like forever.

Kristina nodded, her eyes glued to the screen. And their breakup? It was a total train wreck. It was everywhere, all over the news.

That could certainly affect the show. Those two are like oil and water.

Kristina folded her arms across her chest. More like alcohol and fire. You dont mix those two, ever, she said, her tone leaving no room for debate.

Jackson raised an eyebrow, his expression a silent question. You didnt know that?

Jacksons words, though not harsh, carried a subtle hint of disapproval. It was as if he expected me, of all people, to be privy to such information. I book the talent, not follow celebrity gossip.

I shot to my feet. You two didnt know either, I blurted out, but I knew Id messed up. As the clubs marketing and entertainment director, I shouldve been in the loop on this kind of thing.

Dont sweat it. I got this. I assure them with a confident smile. I quickly made my way out of the VIP room and headed straight for the dressing rooms.

Part of me is annoyed that I didnt foresee this situation, but I find that I’m also annoyed with Brandon Stanton, Andreas agent. He signed the contract for this event without warning me that his client would have a problem with one of my opening acts.

Greed, its always about the damn money, isnt it?

I storm down the dimly lit hallway. This business is cutthroat, but this is low even for the sharks I dealt with. I push open the door to the dressing room, my mind whirling with damage control strategies.

Wheres Drea Joy? I ask the guard on duty. The door to her dressing room is ajar, and the room is empty.

Her band members stand talking nearby, turn to look at me, and immediately notice the angry expression that clouds my countenance.

They know I own the club and that I have a reputation thats best kept in check, so the rest of them shut up, starring.

The guard stands from his stool. She left the dressing room as soon as she arrived.

She always looks for a quiet place to run her warm-up vocals privately, one of her band members steps forward.

Cool. I guess Ive got a little mouse to find, I mutter, annoyed.

Without another word, I set off, wondering where this elusive woman is hiding. Luckily, it doesnt take me long to find her.

Almost instinctively, I head down a secondary corridor that leads away from the central area of the club, wondering which place I would choose if I wanted to get away from everything so I could be alone. And there is one place, in fact, that I tend to frequent when I find myself in this situation.

I climb the metal stairs and see the rooftop door open. As I move forward, a soft, sweet, slightly broken voice floats down to me.

She doesnt see me. Her back is turned away from the door. She gazes out over the towering city full of lights. Her hair is loose and flowing, dancing in the air as she hugs her knees. Except her waves arent blonde but reddish-brown.

Her voice floats across the air to me like a sirens song. It instantly draws me in and makes me forget any other trace of worry.

Ive heard her sing before. Her melodies, full of broken promises and painful emotions, are as well-known as her attractive face. In a very short amount of time, she has managed to establish herself as one of the best-selling artists of the moment.

Found you, little mouse!

Andrea jumps at the sound of my voice and turns to face me. Her huge aquamarine blue eyes watch me with a nervous expression, and her mouth opens in surprise.

Looking at her up close, I can tell that her attractiveness isn’t only due to her makeup, as it is with many other stars. In fact, her beauty is simple, but she radiates charm. Large, expressive eyes sit on a heart-shaped face, and a trail of freckles covers her cheeks and runs across the bridge of her nose.

The innocence in her image is almost enough to make an unconscious part of me want to protect her no matter what, but then I see it.

A deep, blue fire that radiates from her eyes. I understand then that she is not a little mouse.

She’s more like a cat who seeks solitude and silence, someone whose senses are always on alert, even when it looks like she has her guard down.

Who are you? she inquires in a delicate, slightly husky voice.

That tone, with its somewhat sexy demand, immediately gives me goosebumps.

Ignoring how upset she seems, I advance towards her. That doesnt matter now. I came to get you for the show.

She looks at me for a moment, her brow furrowed. I can tell that she’s trying to read me.

Finally, she decides to climb down from the overhead. I hold my hand to help her, but she refuses it and nimbly hops down beside me.

Youre not allowed up here, I say to Andrea as she shakes out her clothes.

Then what are you doing here?

Andrea looks at me with a challenge in her eyes. She’s much shorter than me, and her body has lines of defined curves that run down her like the shape of a guitar.

I own it, I declare impassively.

She clicks her tongue. And Im your artist, so it‘s up to you to indulge me a little.

I could please you in more ways than you think...

The shows about to start.

Then wed better hurry.

Ignoring me, Andrea begins to walk ahead of me. Her marked gait carries the rhythm of her hips, which move in sensual sync as the wind plays with her hair.

For some reason, I cant stop watching her.

What the hell is wrong with me?I wonder. I ignore the thought because I know I have to make sure the show tonight is a success.

The clubs reputation depends on it, and as always, I cant let myself be seduced by the mysterious woman in front of me.

But theres something about her, a force of nature, a whirlwind that threatens to uproot the very foundations of my sanity.