Chapter 22
TWENTY-TWO
THERE WERE PHOTOGRAPHERS outside the club. Whether they were big media or local, she didn’t know, and didn’t ask. What difference would knowing make? Even if they were local, the more famous media names would pick it up from there, if so desired.
Roxie was the star. More so than she’d been at Cam’s. The pout, the poses, waving to those at the back, proved Roxie didn’t take herself too seriously. The woman was friendly with everyone, ready to banter, all the while wearing a glorious smile.
Security stayed closer outside, though even on the VIP floor, they lingered.
Drinks were brought. Roxie hugged and chatted with those who basically lined up to talk to her.
Honey and Tripp took her to a seating area with an empty, neglected couch at the head of it.
Weird. The place was busy and yet no one sat there?
Drinks begot drinks, and they danced in varying combinations, close to the wall of glass they’d talked about at Cam’s. People would see her, had seen her, and that security wasn’t only protecting Roxie.
Ready for another drink, she went back to their seats, by the still empty couch, and was immediately handed a fresh drink. The attentiveness was incredible.
Tripp danced with someone she didn’t know. Honey was on a perpendicular couch debating something, if the animated expressions and spirited gestures were any measure.
Roxie wasn’t hard to pinpoint. Security was ever-present, and the concentration of partiers was highest near the Empress, as so many called her. It must be nice to—suddenly everyone’s heads swung around. Honestly, everyone, simultaneously, noticed Zairn Lomond step inside with Knox and Cam.
No one went near the group. Literally no one. That was a contrast to Roxie’s reception. The latter was personable and drew people to her. Zairn was personable too, though maybe not as much bare-knuckle fun.
The trio split apart with Zairn striding on through the middle of the room. Knox headed for stationary Tripp and the harem of women huddled near him.
Cam? Ah, he came straight to her and sat right there, no hesitation, no concern.
“Hey,” he said, resting a hand on her thigh. “I missed you today.”
The music in the VIP area was loud, though nowhere near as loud as it would be in a regular club. And though she’d dismissed it as imagination, she was pretty sure the music got louder when Roxie danced and quieter when the woman was talking.
“Not much work getting done,” she said. “Our routine’s shot to shit.”
The glow of his presence came with a desperately needed peace.
“Dalton’s on it,” he said, accepting a drink from a server.
“How do they do that?”
“The drinks? Zairn insists on it. And regulars have their orders on automatic repeat.”
“And how do you pay?”
He laughed. “I don’t. No one in Zairn’s inner circle does.”
“Quick way to stop being a billionaire.”
“I’d disagree with you except I know how much we can all drink. Meant to ask him what the wedding bar bill came out to in the end. Though I doubt he asked for a figure.”
“What did—”
A collective gasp interrupted. It wasn’t super loud, just unexpected.
Everyone was gawking again. Only this time, the eyes were on Zairn and Roxie, right by that same broad window.
On their traverse stage the performance was in full swing.
Their words couldn’t be heard, but facing each other, a few feet apart, it was obvious the couple were in disagreement.
Zairn touched Roxie’s shoulder, or tried to, Roxie batted the gesture aside before it could make contact.
Their mouths were moving fast, expressions scrunched and serious.
“Should someone go over there?” she asked. “People are watching.”
He snickered. “That’s the point.”
“The point? Yeah, but they’re your friends and that doesn’t look fake—”
“Again the point.” He leaned in close to whisper in her ear. “It’s pantomime.”
Panto—oh, God, yes, he was right. This was the plan, the point.
The couple were drawing attention to themselves and away from her.
She’d been seen, people wouldn’t know who she was, for the most part, not yet.
For the time being, she faded into the background.
Online there may be speculation. She wouldn’t look or type her name into Huddle Hunt. Not that she ever did.
As videos and pictures from the club were shared online, the chance someone might recognize her increased. Would her presence trump witnessing this glamorous and popular couple falling apart?
She’d seen Roxie and Zairn together, and how devoted they were to each other. Yet watching them now, concern bled through.
Leaning against Cam, she asked, “Are you sure they’re okay?”
“I’m sure.” The mist of his breath in her hair betrayed their proximity. This couldn’t be part of the plan. “Let’s get out of here.”
Surprised, her head turned. There were those lips again. So close.
“You just got here. What about the plan?”
“You’ve played your part,” he said, his gaze erasing the rest of the room. “Let’s get out of here, Candy.”
He’d been there for a matter of seconds.
“You didn’t come to party?”
His hand moved to twist his fingers around hers. “I came here for the prize attraction. I need to be alone with you. Please.”
Why was she making him beg when it was what she wanted too? Drinks discarded and hands still linked, they left without saying goodbye. The drama was good enough to distract others from what she and Cam were doing. They didn’t need to insert themselves just to announce their departure.
At the bottom of the stairs, with a tug, she stalled them. “There are photographers out there—”
“Yes, there are photographers out there,” he said, walking backward to lead her around to a door hidden beneath the stairs. “Which is why we’re not going that way.”
Through they went into a dark passage that led them outside to a narrow alley, completely deserted. All except his enormous Ram truck.
“Subtle,” she said as he boosted her up into it. When he got in, she just shook her head. “You drove this here?”
“Earlier. Figured we’d end up at Crimson eventually. It’s Roxie’s kingdom, her security blanket.”
In the dark, often loud, enclosed space of the club Roxie wasn’t wary, Roxie owned the air.
A solid metal gate slid open, letting them out onto a side street and onto the main drag unseen. The parallel wall separated them from the place they met by just a few bricks. As though he was thinking the same thing, he glanced her way at the moment they passed.
The city lights accompanied their journey. They didn’t need language. Closing her eyes, she relaxed, her head cradled by the shoulder of the chair. The air seemed fresher and filled her lungs easier.
“Thank you,” she said, existing with him.
“You’re welcome.”
“I’ve been bouncing around in a ball of electricity all day.”
“Roxie’s like that.”
“No, she’s been great, it’s just…”
“You were going along with your life and this came out of nowhere.”
“Wham,” she said, appreciating him for articulating her meaning.
“Some part of my past always lingered in the background, but…” She blew out a breath.
“For the first time, I felt like I was getting my shit together.” Opening her eyes, she got comfort from his profile. “That’s because of you, you know.”
The corner of his mouth rose. “It’s ‘cause of me everything’s hit the fan too.”
“Your people are good people. No one can help who they are.”
“You included. We make decisions when we’re young that…”
Was he thinking about Teagan or validating what she was going through?
“Are the guys mad? Ozzie? Dalton? Noble? I haven’t talked to them.”
“What? No! No one’s mad at you. They’re standing ready to help. Whatever you need, they’ll do. They just figure you’ve been gawped at enough. Nothing’s different with them, Candy. With them or with me.”
He negotiated the traffic and parked around back, on the other side of the patio fence.
“I’ve only ever seen this truck from the windows upstairs,” she said, smoothing the leather as he killed the engine. “I like it. Why have I never been in it before?”
“When have we ever gone out anywhere together?”
Huh. He came to open her door, supporting her as she jumped onto the brick driveway. Another fingerprint lock got them through the gate, the accordion doors, and when they were inside, lights flickering on, she exhaled harmony.
“Do you want a drink?” he asked, going toward the back store.
She chose the stairs instead. “If you didn’t want me here overnight, you wouldn’t have brought me here. And if I wanted to get drunk, I’d have stayed at the club.”
“Same rules as last night?” His fingers dropped from the door he hadn’t opened. “Everyone will pile back here—”
“And I’ll be relegated to your bed.” She went up a stair, clutching the banister as she looked back at him. “I have things I need to get out of me. And I don’t want to do it down here in the light.”
“You want to do it up there in the dark?
“It?” she said, welcoming his grin with her own. “Yes, I do very much want to do it with you up there in the dark, but your rules are your rules, Unicorn.”
A platonic friend? He couldn’t be counted as that.
Yet, they wouldn’t be friends with full benefits either.
What she didn’t want was to start a conversation, enjoy any intimacy with him, even of a non-sexual kind, only to have it shattered when people returned from the club.
That meant alone in the dark was their only guarantee of seclusion.
Or as guaranteed as it could ever be with Roxie in the equation.
The others could stay in Crimson for hours or be on their way back to Cam’s already. She had no way of knowing and calling might suggest an invitation.
“Mock away,” he said.
She laughed. “I’m sorry, I’m not mocking you. I’m the joke here. I’ve never had a guy make me feel so…”
He didn’t want to have sex with her, yet she didn’t feel rejected. Their attraction was mutual. He’d said as much. Not that he needed to with the potency of chemistry that zipped between them.
Any woman who tried to force a man’s hand was no better than any other sexual predator and that wasn’t her.
She wouldn’t want to wake up with a resentful, potentially angry, mate or worse, a guilt-racked, ashamed mate.
If both parties weren’t all in, ready, willing, desperate, how could either of them enjoy the carnal experience?