Chapter Four
He pulled the zipper up on his slim-fitting black pants and snagged a tailored black blazer from its hanger.
Should he even bother with a shirt? Nah.
Matt didn’t feel like wearing one, and he didn’t feel like going to the club, either.
Especially after last night. He was tapped out, but he promised.
There was no way for him to get out of it.
Somehow, Kit talked Sloan into leaving his house, which was a good thing.
The dude holed himself up in there night and day.
And then, Brendan called him. When he found out they planned to go to the club tonight, he said he could have a drink or two with them after he met with Hans—like old times.
He missed those days. Before the wives. Before they lost Kyan.
Like royal princes at court, the nine of them sat in that booth by the bar as if it were their throne, and in a way, it was.
Their subjects would come and pay homage to them there.
Once, as he sipped on his whiskey, a girl crawled under the table, took his dick out of his pants, and sucked him off right there.
He was younger then—in his twenties, still. None of them were married yet. Hell, none of them even had a girlfriend. Except for Sloan. Not that it worked out. It was a shame because the dude truly loved her. Matt was just thankful that she didn’t drag him down into the gutter with her.
But he wasn’t twenty-eight anymore. He’d be thirty-five in a matter of weeks. Half the guys were married now, or might as well be, and here he was going out on the hunt for pussy.
Fucking pathetic.
But Matt wasn’t looking for any tonight. Changing his mind, he got a soft Bella + Canvas muscle tank out of his drawer and put it on. Bo, who had a thing about textures on his skin, turned him on to the brand.
Precisely at ten, the private car rolled up in front of his house.
He and his bandmates slid into the back.
It was ridiculous, having to hire a car to take them a few short blocks to the Red Door, but thanks to the relentless tabloid paps, they couldn’t show up on foot, and taking one of their vehicles was simply out of the question.
Sloan tipped his head against the seat and closed his eyes. “Remind me why I let you talk me into this again.”
“Because you need to get out.”
“Do I?”
“You do.” Glancing at the driver, Kit softened his voice and winked. “Female companionship, brother.”
“Pussy?” Sloan said, loud and clear. Then he snickered. “Yeah, well, there’s always that.”
“Don’t sound so enthused, man.”
“How long have we been doing this shit, Matt?” He cocked his head, shaking it.
“What?”
“Parties. Clubbing. Fucking. All of it.” Sloan rubbed at his temples. “Never mind. I’m just… I’m just tired.”
But Matt got it. Hadn’t he been wrestling with the same shit?
The town car stopped in front of the red double doors on Ash Street, and as he stood on the sidewalk waiting for Kit and Sloan to get out, his gaze traveled to the pizza joint on First Avenue. Gina came to mind.
“You wanna ask her out or something?”
Yeah, I think I do.
A heavy hand landed on his shoulder. “You coming or what?”
Matt half-turned, and looking into dull blue eyes, he nodded.
They bypassed the red velvet ropes, the doormen ushering them through.
Inside the cavernous two-story lobby, with its immense crystal chandelier dangling above him, Axel tipped his chin in greeting.
Easily as tall as Brendan, he was a silent, imposing figure in his custom black suit.
Not a single tattoo was visible, but underneath those expensive clothes, the man’s skin was covered in ink.
Ex-military, the club’s head of security used to be special forces, secret service, or some such shit—Matt wasn’t sure.
He couldn’t even say if Axel was his real name.
I bet not.
“Hey, Axel.” He slapped the towering man on the back. “Brendan here yet?”
“He’s in the office with Hans,” he answered with a curt nod. “He’ll be out shortly.”
“Let him know we’re here, will ya?”
“Of course.” Black eyes gazing down at him, the corner of Axel’s mouth twitched. “Will you be upstairs?”
The lavish and private VIP spaces.
Before, they only went up for special club events, but once the girls came along, and more so since Kyan’s death, they eschewed their throne on the main floor in favor of it.
“Not tonight, my friend.”
It would be silly to go when it was only the three of them, so Matt led the way to their old spot by the bar that was always on reserve for them.
The semi-circular booth, upholstered in tufted purple velvet, could easily hold a dozen people, and even as they took their seats, it still looked pitifully empty.
“It doesn’t feel right sitting here—ain’t the same, you know?” Sloan’s gaze flitted around the mostly unoccupied booth, and pulling at the chain around his neck, his index finger slid back and forth. “We should’ve gone up to VIP.”
“Why?” Matt pulled his phone out and tossed it onto the table. “So you can hide?”
“No, asshole, so I don’t have to sit here with the memories of…”
“Kyan?”
“Yeah.” His lips trembling, Sloan pushed his thumb into his wrist. “It fucking guts me to think about him. I loved the little shit.”
Barely six months had passed since the tragic loss of the youngest of the nine princes.
“We all did.”
“I still can’t wrap my head around it… that he’s…” Dead. Gone. But Sloan couldn’t say it. “… not here. Linnea…”
His teeth raking over his bottom lip, Matt nodded.
Only twenty-four, Linnea was a widow. Her two-month-old daughter would never know her father.
Inseparable, Dillon was fucking lost without his brother, while Brendan and Jesse deeply grieved their cousin.
But having grown up together, his loss affected every man among them.
Irreplaceable, Kyan left a hole in their hearts that nothing could ever fill.
They’d just have to learn how to live with it, he supposed.
“Why do they keep this booth empty all the time?” Kit asked, changing the subject.
“Hans keeps it that way for us.” As a sign of respect.
Kit slumped against the purple velvet. “Well, it’s fucking depressing.”
“Stop with the sad shit—both of you,” Matt said and slammed his fist onto the table. “That’s the last thing Kyan would’ve wanted.”
A girl he’d never seen before, wearing the club’s signature black thong uniform, approached their table.
The fabric translucent, Matt could make out the shape of her supple breasts, their peaked, rosy nipples.
Long, light brown, highlighted hair, curled into loose waves, framed her pretty face.
She was likely a blondie when she was little.
“Gentlemen.” The girl cleared her throat and took a breath. “Can I get you anything?”
Thirsty as all fuck, Kit stared at her chest like he’d never seen a pair of pretty tits in all of his life, before his gaze met hers. He chewed on his lip, but he didn’t speak.
“Well, hello, pretty,” Matt crooned on the bassist’s behalf. “Glenlivet. Bring us the bottle.”
“Yes, sir,” she said with a nod and turned to leave.
His lip quirking up, Sloan stopped her. “And what’s your name?”
“Savannah.”
He stretched his arm out as if reaching for her. “I’m Sloan, and this is—”
“I know who y’all are.” She didn’t appear impressed.
And Sloan couldn’t give two shits if she wasn’t. He shrugged. “Have we seen you before, Savannah?”
“No, I don’t think so.” She tipped her head slightly and smiled. “I’ll be right back with your drinks.”
His eyes glued to her voluptuous ass, Sloan chuckled. “She’s not from around here.”
“No?” Kit asked with a roll of his eyes. “What gave it away?”
“I know who y’all are,” Sloan imitated her accent, raising his voice a few octaves. “Who in Chicago says y’all, huh?”
“Don’t be a dick, Sloan.”
“Isn’t he always?” Matt asked with a snicker.
“Fuck off. Just making an observation.” He lifted his chin at him from across the table. “She is a pretty little thing.”
“Leave her alone, man.” Kit nudged his shoulder.
“No worries, dude. Have at her.” His palms up, Sloan leaned away from him. “She’s not my type, anyway.”
“You have a type?” Matt chuckled.
Kit snickered under his breath. “Redheads.”
The look on Sloan’s face was murderous. Once, his former fiancée had a crown of glorious auburn hair. But that was then. Before the dope. Matt hadn’t seen her since Sloan broke it off, but he came across a photo of her in a supermarket rag a couple of years back. He almost didn’t recognize her.
Before Sloan could jump across the table to throttle their bassist, and it looked like he was ready to, Brendan slid into the seat beside him. “Should I ask?”
“Probably not.”
“Sloan starting shit again?”
“You could say that,” Matt muttered. “And Kit finished it.”
Which wasn’t like him at all. Because he, out of all of them, understood the shit Sloan needlessly tortured himself with.
Savannah returned with bottle service for them, placing glasses, a bucket of ice, a decanter of water, and club soda, along with their favorite scotch whiskey on the table. “Will you be joining these gentlemen, Mr. Byrne? Shall I fetch another glass for you?”
“Yes, thank you.” He glanced at her with a smile. “And call me Brendan.”
“Who is she?” Kit asked.
“Savannah?” His smile building, Brendan tilted his head. “She’s new. Has a class with Katelyn. Ava knows her too, I think. She just started working here about a week ago. Why?”
“No reason,” Kit said, his cheeks flushing pink.
With a sly grin, Sloan’s gaze turned from Kit to Brendan. “Where’s she from?”
“Denver. She’s here for college.”
“Told you so.” Chuckling, he plunked ice cubes into a glass.
“Where’d all this interest in my cocktail server come from?”
With a shake of his head, Matt sniggered. “She said y’all.”
“I see.” Looking from Kit to Sloan, Brendan sat back with a nod. “Don’t even think about it. We don’t allow Savannah to… um… engage with members of the Red Door. Club rules.”
Engage? Fancy Schmancy. Don’t you mean fuck?
“Are you forgetting about Gillian?”
“Why do you think I made it a rule, brother?” Chuckling, Brendan turned in his seat to see the girl standing there with his glass on a tray. “Thank you, Savannah.”
It wasn’t apparent if she’d overheard the conversation. She simply left the glass on the table and walked away.
“The meeting with Hans go okay?” Matt asked after they all poured themselves a drink.
“Yeah, we were tossing around some ideas for future events.” Then, he proudly added, “Actually, they were Katelyn’s.”
Oh?
Intrigued, Matt encouraged him to say more. “Do tell.”
“I can’t. At least, not yet.”
“Are you two planning to do more demos together?”
“Possibly.” Brendan shrugged, but a faint grin curved his lips.
Sloan nodded. “She enjoyed being out there on the platform, huh?”
“She did.”
“Sorry that I missed it,” Matt said, and he wasn’t ashamed to admit it, either.
His eyes narrowing, Kit stared down at the contents of his glass. He swirled it, then took a healthy sip.
“Where were you?” Brendan asked, his eyebrows raised.
He swallowed some scotch. “In the alcoves.”
“He took off with Drummer Boy and Miss Bo Peep as soon as that big ole dick of yours flashed on the jumbo screen. Ain’t that right, Rhythm Man?” Sloan shimmied his head. “And they were gone a helluva long time.”
Fucker.
His lip curled. “Your point?”
Kit crooked his finger to call Hans over to the plum velvet booth. “Anyone down in the playroom yet?”
“Yes,” he answered, his salacious grin wide. “And they’ll be pleased to have you, gentlemen, join them.”
“Go on.” Matt lifted his chin toward Sloan. “I’ll catch up with you. I’m gonna hang here with Brendan for a while.”
“Suit yourself, man.” He drained the whiskey from his glass and stood. “C’mon, Kit. You’re the one who dragged me out.”
After a moment of uneasy silence, Brendan finally spoke. “Something you wanna tell me?”
“No.”
He cocked his head, a single eyebrow lifting. “Bo and Ava?”
“It’s not like you’re thinking.”
His brow raised.
“Ava didn’t want to scar herself for life, watching you and her BFF doing whatever it was you were doing out there. Bo asked me for a favor.” Matt chuffed out a breath and picked up his glass. “It wasn’t a big deal, so don’t make it into one.”
“Look, I’m not judging.”
“I know.” And he drank. “But I learned something. The sex is so much better with people you care about and who care about you, too.”
“I can attest to that. Katelyn changed everything for me.” With a nod, blue eyes bored into his. “Are there feelings involved here?”
“No, not like that.” Emphatically, Matt shook his head. “And I don’t see it happening again.”
“But…”
“But nothing.” He shrugged a shoulder. “Except maybe I wouldn’t mind having a Katie or an Ava of my own, you know?”
Swallowing down the whiskey in his glass, Brendan stood, and clasping his shoulder, he winked. “I highly recommend it, brother.”
Down in the playpen, at least twenty naked bodies tangled together on the cushion-covered floor, fucking in various configurations.
More bodies lay sprawled on the chaise lounge chairs lining the perimeter of the room.
Kit and Sloan shared a nubile beauty on one of them.
A couple of weeks ago, he would’ve had a hard-on just watching the scene, but tonight, Matt felt nothing.
Nude, he leaned against the wall, holding onto the filmy drapery suspended from the ceiling that covered it. A warm, wet mouth swallowed him whole. He didn’t look down at the blonde.
Matt closed his eyes, and tipping his head back, he imagined somebody else.
I’m coming for you, bunny.
And right then, the mere thought of her was enough.