by Olivia Hayle
We were in a packed club in the Financial District, a place with a massive waiting list, all to impress Denise’s new colleagues. She’d been made a full-time writer at the online platform Yas.
Yes, exactly like that—Yas. We both thought the name was a bit silly, and the platform vapid, but Denise was a brilliant writer and this was just a stepping stone to world domination.
As the supportive friend I was, I had come along to celebrate her promotion—even if that meant going to a too-expensive club, putting on a pair of uncomfortable heels, and breaking out a red lipstick I’ve worn too few times to justify the price.
The music was a pulsing beat and bodies were writhing out on the dance floor. The club was packed. Just finding a table for the two of us had been hard enough, and I had no idea how we’d fit three more people here.
Despite my promise to Denise, I wanted to glance at my watch. Tomorrow was a big day for my brother, and I had to be sharp…
“Emily.” Denise snapped her fingers in front of my face. “They’re approaching. Look alive.”
“Sorry!”
Denise stood. “Hi guys! I’m so glad you could make it.”
“Me too,” the blonde ring-leader said to Denise. “We were ecstatic to hear that you were joining Yas permanently."
“Just ecstatic,” a brunette repeated from behind. I shook hands with all three of them and wished I could hear their names over the pounding beat. Their eyeliner was perfect, and I ran a hand through my loose hair self-consciously.
The blonde took a seat next to me. ”What do you do at Yas?" I asked.
“I cover holistic beauty and experimental health.”
“Wow. What does that mean?”
“Trying a lot of funny-smelling products,” she said with an enviably raised eyebrow. “What do you work with?”
This was where I wished I had a better answer than the truth. “I work in press and marketing.”
“No way!”
“Yeah.”
“For what company?”
I cleared my throat. “For Pet and Co.”
She frowned. “I haven’t heard about that.”
“It’s a pet and grooming business. Not really too exciting. I think it’s—“
“Guys?” Elisa, the brunette, shot us all a secretive grin. “Have you seen who’s in the VIP section tonight?”
Blondie next to me leaned back. “Do you mean the launch of Viper?”
“Yes. Did you know?”
She looked superior. “Why do you think we suggested this place?”
Denise and I shot each other confused glances. “What’s Viper?”
“Some new app.” She waved her hand dismissively. “That’s not important. Who is in attendance, however, is. Some of the hottest names in tech are here. Rafe Christensen, Danny Stephens, and of course… Julian Hunt.”
“Hunt is here?”
“I swear I just saw him.”
“It wasn’t confirmed if he would attend or not.”
The three of them craned their necks, trying to see across the club to the VIP section. Even from this distance, I could see the polished suits, the flowing bottles of champagne.
Denise sidled closer to me. “That’s where we should be.”
I snorted. “Right. Doing what? We know nothing about tech.”
“Which is why they would love us! They’d find it refreshing.”
“Aren’t you dating that blogger?”
“No, that was ages ago! You have to keep up.”
I grinned. “I can’t. “You’re impossible, Denise.”
“Come on, girls,” the blonde declared. “Let’s dance.” I grabbed my half-finished daiquiri and joined them on the dance floor.
Nearly an hour later, I was done. I was so, so, so done.
I could party with the best of them. But the business meeting for my brother’s potential contract was at ten o’clock the following day, and despite my promise to Denise, there was nothing more important.
I grabbed Denise and gave her a quick hug.
“I have to go,” I spoke into her curly red hair, hoping she could hear me over the pounding bass. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
“Thank you for coming. Good luck tomorrow! Tell Turner I’ll be thinking of him.”
“I will.” I grinned at her. “Don’t go too crazy tonight.”
She gave me an innocent little smirk. “Who, me?”
I shook my head at her in mock disapproval. If there was someone who could handle herself, it was Denise. Party until five and then up at nine for work, and do a damn good job as well. It was very unfair, but she’d always been like that. Too much energy for one person to contain.
I made my way through writhing bodies, my clutch tucked tight under my arm and the last of my daiquiri in my hand. I needed to find a place to leave the glass.
Too many people. Too loud music.
An arm wound its way around my waist and I twisted away. A man leered at me, a drink glued to his hand as his other reached for me.
“Dance with me, sugar.”
I frowned. “Definitely, not.”
This, too, reminded me why I didn't go out too often. Denise kept pushing me to go out with more men, and while I agreed that my semi-celibate status wasn't exactly enjoyable, you don’t find your soulmate in a club.
I was by the exit when it happened.
I heard a snap, and then I was airborne and tumbling. My hands reached out to try to steady myself and I fell straight into a passing stranger.
A strong arm reacted but it was too late, and I hit the club floor with a crash.
Embarrassment flooded through me and I scrambled onto smarting knees.
“Are you alright?”
I pushed my hair back and looked up to find the owner of that deep, rumbling voice.
Cheekbones. Expensive suit. A concerned expression.
No no no. I recognized this man.
“I’m fine!”
He reached down and strong arms fitted themselves under my shoulders. I’m lifted to my feet like a child, only to find that I can’t stand properly. He frowned and looked down.
I followed his gaze. “Oh. My heel broke.”
“Occupational hazard.” His voice was smooth, polished. Dark. I cleared my throat and slipped out of my pumps. Barefoot, I only just reached his chin.
Julian Hunt.
Of all the men in the world, why did I have to trip into him?
My eyes traced down the long column of his throat, his white shirt, the top button undone to expose just a hint of tan skin, a giant pink stain on his shirt…
I clasped my hand to my mouth. “Oh my God. I am so sorry, that was my drink, wasn’t it?”
Julian Hunt looked down. “I think so. Strawberry daiquiri, was it?”
“Yes. I’m so sorry.” My cheeks were on fire. “I’ll pay for the dry-cleaning.”
He smiled—actually smiled at that. “Certainly not. I’m just happy you weren’t injured in the fall.”
I blinked. “No. No, I wasn’t injured. I… where is my bag?”
We both looked at the dark club floor in silence. We were by the exit, so there was more light, but still not enough. I was also looking at it far closer than I would have liked, being barefoot on this disgusting surface.
Julian found it first, grabbing the navy clutch hidden along the dark baseboard. “This it?”
“Yes. Thank you again.”
“Anytime.” He cocked his head. “Did you have a good time tonight?”
For a long moment, all I could do was stare into the curious green eyes looking back at me. Julian Hunt—billionaire playboy, America’s tech sweetheart—was prolonging the moment. Making conversation with me.
“Yes, it was alright.”
“That’s not exactly a ringing endorsement.”
Maybe it was the fall, or maybe it was the teasing glint in his eyes, but I surprise myself with my answer. “I don’t know if you heard but there was a launch party tonight for an
app. A bunch of rowdy Silicon Valley types were making a lot of noise from the VIP section.”
His eyebrows shot up. “Is that so?”
“Yes. Sort of ruined the mood for the rest of us, to be honest.” I bent forward, and dear God, but I’m flirting with him. “Don’t let them know, if you see one.”
Julian’s smile turned crooked. “Oh, don't worry. I stay far away from that crowd.”
My heart was beating fast. This was too much, and I was too inexperienced at this. This wasn’t a college guy fumbling around. This was a man, a man who was experienced and wealthy and used to perfection and by God was he handsome. I wetted my lips.
“Thanks again for finding my bag.”
Julian looked amused. “One of my lesser talents.”
“Very impressive.”
“I’m sure.” He looked out towards the parking lot. “Were you heading out?”
“Yes, I was planning to. My car is parked here.”
“But now you can’t.”
My eyes widened. I couldn’t leave? Because now I had met him?
But then he glanced down at my bare feet. “Because you have no shoes.”
“Oh. Right. I don’t.”
He shrugged. “There’s only one thing to do then.”
Before I could register what he was doing, Julian Hunt bent and put his arms around me. I was lifted up with a very unflattering screech.
“What are you doing?”
“You can’t walk barefoot out of a nightclub,” he said, not looking winded in the least. “There might be glass on the pavement.”
"But… this is weird.“ I was being carried by a veritable stranger—a famous stranger—and I hadn't been carried like this since I was twelve.
His crooked smile was back. “I’ve never been bothered by ‘weird.’”
Julian Hunt smelled good. Too good. My arm wrapped around his neck as an employee opened the front door for us.
“Valet stand?”
“To the left.”
People were lingering outside, some in line to get in and others just out for a smoke. All of them watched us walk across to the valet stand. My cheeks had to be on fire, that’s how hot they felt.
Julian didn’t put me down when we arrived, just looked at me expectantly. So did the valet worker.
“Oh, right! Let me just find it.” I clawed through my bag in search of the ticket. Seemingly unable to stop myself, I rambled on. “My heel broke, by the way. That’s why… that’s why he’s being chivalrous.”
The valet worker accepted my ticket with a grin. “I’m sure, miss.”
He disappeared to fetch my car and I glanced up to see Julian grinning too. He was far too close like this—it was impossible to ignore just how excruciatingly attractive he was. He always had been, on the magazine covers and online interviews. But weren’t famous people supposed to be, well, just less when you saw them in person? Shorter than you expected, or less attractive? They were not supposed to be more good-looking.
“You can put me down now,” I said. “This will take a while.”
In a smooth movement, Julian let me slide down. My feet touched the cold pavement and I pulled my jacket tighter around me.
“Stand in your shoes?”
I nodded and slipped them on, mismatched heights and missing heels and all. "Thanks for carrying me."
“Just being chivalrous,” he repeated with a smile. “I have to say, I’ve had a lot of women do interesting things to get my attention, but fake-falling is new.”
My eyes snapped to his face. “What?”
“I’m complimenting you on your ingenuity. The drink was a nice touch.”
For a long moment, all I could do was stare at him. Julian Hunt might be handsome but he was surely not humble.
“You’re serious,” I said slowly. “How arrogant do you have to be to believe I willingly tripped just to get your attention?”
His lips quirked at my tone, and the fact that he was enjoying my outrage only made me angrier. “You’re unbelievable. Do you think I snapped my heel on purpose? Waited for the right moment when you passed by the exit?”
Julian’s dark eyes were alight. “You have a temper.”
“I do when I’m being accused of… of… I’m not even sure what to call it.”
“Entrapment?”
“Yes. That.”
“Are you OK driving yourself home?”
I blinked at him. “Um, yes. Of course."
“Are you sure? I could drive you home, if not. My Porsche is parked just over there." He nodded to the front.
I couldn't help myself—I laughed. This man was unreal. “Was it really necessary to mention the car brand in that sentence?"
His smile turned bashful, and then a bit teasing. "No. I'm bragging, aren't I?"
"I think you are."
"Damn." He ran a hand through his admittedly very thick hair. “You really didn’t fall on purpose, did you?”
“Absolutely not. It was humiliating.”
“How much have you had to drink tonight?”
“I fell because my heel snapped, not because I’m drunk.”
Julian glanced down at the stain on his shirt that appeared to prove otherwise, but I’m quick to correct him. “That was virgin.”
“Oh?”
“Um, yes. The drink.”
“Thanks for clarifying.”
My cheeks flushed again. This was going all wrong, he was infuriating, and I needed to get home. I pushed my long hair back and saw his eyes follow the movement.
“I don’t usually fall on strangers.”
His grin was back. “I’m honored that I was the chosen one tonight, then.”
The valet boy still hadn’t returned with my car and I tugged my jacket tighter. Julian didn’t seem remotely bothered by our odd interaction or the sudden silence. He looked just as serenely calm as in the photos of him, jawline screaming masculinity and competence and power.
Arrogant man.
I was not like him—the uncomfortable silence was unbearable. “Do you come here often?”
“As a matter of fact, no, I don’t. Only when apps are launching and there’s rowdiness to be had.”
I bit my lip to keep from smiling, despite myself. “Of course. A favorite past-time, is it?”
He shrugged, powerful shoulders stretching out a perfectly fitted suit jacket. The man had held me for near on three minutes without a change in his breathing. “It’s practically a national sport in my circles.”
“Are you heading home now too?”
He nodded. “Yes. But I’m—“
A voice called out from across the parking lot. “Julian, my man! Are you coming?”
A blonde man stood across the parking lot, his arm around a brunette in strappy heels. They were standing next to a Hummer with music blaring.
“Duty calls?”
He ran a hand through his thick hair, a faintly embarrassed look on his face. “I don’t go to a lot of launches. This isn’t my scene.”
“I’m sure it’s not. Just like you don’t have a lot of experience with women fake tripping just to catch your attention.” I rolled my eyes and his lips quirked up again.
“Because of your shoes,” he said softly and caught a flyaway strand of hair. Gently, he tucked it back in place behind my ear, and I stopped breathing.
“Can I call you?”
Definitely not breathing.
I found myself give a shallow nod. “If you don’t insult me again.”
The eyebrow quirked again. “I’ll be on my very best behavior. Promise.”
The sound of an approaching engine cut the intimacy as my car pulled up next to us. It looked small and ordinary suddenly, standing next to the magnificence that was Julian Hunt.
The valet got out and left the car in idle. "All yours, ma'am."
“Thank you.” I slipped out of my shoes and handed him a tip. “I guess this is it. I’m sorry about your shirt again.”
Julian leaned against m
y car and held the door open for me. “I’ll forgive you if you tell me your name.”
“Emily.”
“Emily?”
"Emily Giordano."
The mischievous look was back in his eyes. “Is that so?”
“Yes.”
“Huh.” Julian bent so that we were eye to eye. “Well, I’ll be in touch, Ace.”
A shiver ran down my spine. “Ace?”
“You could have barreled into anyone tonight, but you hit me.” He winked. “You have excellent aim.”
I opened my mouth to protest the sheer arrogance of his statement, but he shut my door with a grin and took a few steps back. With shaky motions, I put the car in drive and pulled out of the parking lot.
What the hell had just happened?
I had met Julian Hunt. He had strong arms and a crooked smile and he smelled amazing. I had probably never been so instantly attracted to a man before in my life.
And then he asked if he could call me.
Things like this—meeting men like this—didn’t happen to me. It never did and it never had.
He likely had no intention of calling me, and I wasn’t even sure I would pick up if he did. He was arrogant and obnoxious… and funny. Besides, he hadn’t even asked for my number!
I shook my head at my own musings. I would never see Julian Hunt again, and that was probably for the best. I couldn’t start comparing regular men to his standard or I’d be single for life.
I ignored the small part of my brain that wanted to think of maybe’s and what-if’s.
Julian Hunt was not for me, and I was certainly not for him.
About Olivia
Olivia Hayle writes contemporary romances made out of sugar, spice and all things nice—with a pinch of heat, of course!
She’s a happily-ever-after addict who loves her cups of tea large, her men tall and her chocolate dark. When she’s not knee-deep in creating new book boyfriends, you can find her interacting with fans on any of her social media platforms or with her head in a good book.
Find out more at www.oliviahayle.com.
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