To say it’s notoriously crowded is an understatement. The place is fucking swamped seven nights a week.
Cassie and I frequent this bar fairly often because we have little to no trouble at all getting inside. Every bouncer loves a hot pair of twins, and Cassie and I are of course no exception to that rule.
Cassie blows him a kiss as he unchains the velvet rope, strutting our hips and batting our eyes at him as we breezily swoop past the bouncer. He doesn’t even attempt to act subtle as he ogles at how fucking sexy we look.
“I love your job!” Cassie shrieks as we walk inside.
I toss her a funny look, and she has to correct herself, remembering I’m at a new job now.
The perks of my previous media venture job were great, don’t get me wrong. But I was just an intern there, and I feel like I have more wiggle room and potential to grow at Thebadboys.net, at least financially, because that shit’s lucrative.
Cassie tries to be supportive of me trying new things, and don’t get me wrong…she is, but I know she misses the perks of my old—though looks like they’re still holding up by the way we’re ushered right into the club.
“There’s a booth over there.” Cassie points to the back, and I make a point to scope out the packed area, on the prowl for hot guys who might be glancing my direction.
As we walk to the back, my brain seems to think this is the perfect time to question my own life choices.
I don’t really know why I moved to BadBoys other than the money. I can’t place an accurate finger on it, but I am desperate for change.
I need to constantly be adventurous, never wanting to settle or plateau in a job.
I’m impulsive, always craving the idea of a new conquest or experiencing something new.
I hate the fact that satisfaction doesn’t come cheap for me, but that’s the name of the game, and I’m sure it gets on Cassie’s nerves, although she doesn’t mention it.
Cassie pushes herself inside the booth first, and I scoot in beside her.
“What are you doing?” She tucks her long straight black hair behind her ear and stares at me through her smoky eye shadow.
“What?” I place my clutch bag on the table and pull out my lip gloss to reapply it.
“Ethan is meeting us here,” she mentions.
I sigh dramatically and roll my eyes, set for a tantrum. “Really? We can’t do one thing together as sisters without him butting in?”
“Come on,” she elbows me. “Don’t be mean.”
“You’re the one who’s dragging me out tonight, remember?” I give her a sarcastic grin.
“It won’t be that bad, he’ll blend in.”
“If third wheels can do that sort of thing,” I tease her.
Ethan Ford is the flashy, sometimes overly cocky, owner of an event production company that holds his namesake, Ford Productions.
Oh, and he’s also Cassie’s current boyfriend.
My opinion on the subject is that he’s a little too old for Cassie, but what business is it of mine to dictate who she does or doesn’t date?
He’s a nice enough guy and all, but he’s really not my type.
He has red hair, though it’s more of a dark auburn color, so if he tries to claim himself as a certified ‘ginger,’ well, that shit just isn’t going to happen. He doesn’t fall into that category.
Cassie first met him when she stepped in as a marketing consultant for his company, and the rest was history.
I’m not saying I’m going to peg them as getting married tomorrow or anything, but I can totally picture Cassie one day toting his future kids around in a Suburban to soccer practice.
Let’s just say I have the sneaking suspicion that Cassie is investing more into this relationship than Ethan.
A bar server walks past us, but Cassie swipes him in the nick of time, calling out to him with a snap of her fingers.
I give her a lecturing look. “Stop,” I murmur under my breath.
I mean, she could at least be fucking civil to the guy so he doesn’t spit in our drinks.
I order a cosmopolitan, my signature drink. Cassie orders a mojito and gives me a funny look.
“What?” I shrug.
“You and those damn cosmos. Who the fuck are you, Carrie Bradshaw?”
“I wish,” I snort, chuckling at my ability to quip back at my sister.
Cassie takes a deep breath and scrolls through her news feed on her phone.
“So, how is your work going these days?” I quiz her.
Cassie folds her arms across the table and grins at me with a twinkle gleaming in her eyes. “It’s going fantastic.”
“Yeah?” I ask.
“I’m getting ready to seal a new deal with a construction company, and I’m totally psyched about the whole process. If I land this, I may be up for a huge bonus.”
“Wow, that’s amazing,” I nod and smile politely.
“What about you?” She grins wickedly. “Now that we have some time to talk, I want to know about your chatty sex-capades with the schmoozers of the internet or whoever it is you were talking to.”
I erupt into laughter and glance towards the bar, hoping my alcohol comes soon. I’m not a lush, but I certainly enjoy a light buzz every so often.
“Everything is great.” I nod.
“I should hope so, if I have to peel your hands off the keyboard on a Friday night,” she replies in a playful tone.
“I’m excited for the prospect of where this could lead,” I add.
“Of course.” Cassie nods as if she has any fucking clue what I’m talking about.
“But yeah, all of that aside, work is going great,” I tell my twin.
“That’s great,” she responds. “I’m super stoked for you.”
“Thanks.” I beam, and we clink our water glasses together in a toast to celebrate our mutual yet polar opposite and different employment successes.
Cassie nods then leans back against the booth and whines. “Our drinks still aren’t here yet.”
“I wonder why?” I drone with sarcasm.
“Why?” Cassie gives me a confusing stare as if it’s going right over her fucking head.
“Um, hello?” I point to her thick skull. “You were being a total dick to our server.”
Cassie scoffs. “I was not!”
“Then where the hell are our drinks?” I smirk playfully at her.
“They’re busy, I guess.” Cassie shrugs, refusing to believe that she might be playing any part of the reason why we’re still sitting dry as a bone over here.
“If you want, I can go up to the bar and get them myself,” I volunteer.
“Yes, please!” Cassie perks up.
“Okay.” I roll my eyes and climb from the other side of the booth.
I could use a leg stretch anyway.
I squeeze my way through the bar area, passing by a particularly congested spot where there’s a huge crowd lounging right by the bar.
I stand at the counter and prop my elbows up on top, attempting to make eye contact with the busy bartender.
There’s a guy sitting beside me, who, upon further inspection, appears to be drinking alone.
I study him―subtly, of course―but I’m intrigued.
First of all, he’s like crazy fucking gorgeous.
Second of all, I wonder internally if he’s waiting for his wife or girlfriend. My lips pull into a frown. Because no fucking way is a dude that hot single.
I glance at his left hand.
No ring.
Oh, well, okay then. That gives me fresh hope.
Not that I’m trying to pick up a guy tonight or anything, because I’m totally not.
Maybe, though…if he’s cute and charming enough, like this guy…I mean, a girl needs to have some fun. And I did say tonight could be good for research.
But I’m getting ahead of myself. Of course he’s appealing right now. He hasn’t opened his mouth yet.
He’s sexy as fuck. There’s just no other way around
it. He’s got dark hair and earth-shattering blue eyes.
I’ve never seen an eye color so full of depth. It’s like they’re piercing my soul or something, and we haven’t even made eye contact yet.
Then, true to the natural reaction for any normal human who feels as if somebody is staring a hole right fucking through them, he turns around.
He flashes me a beautiful, million-dollar mega-watt smile with perfect white teeth. Of fucking course. I practically swoon as my heart pounds in my chest.
The chemistry between us is instantaneously raw and passionate, simply indescribable.
I try to compose myself by painting a smile across my lips, albeit awkwardly compared to him, I’m sure.
It’s not my fault. In my defense, he’s just too hot for me to fully recover from in time.
I decide to break the ice with a joke. “It sure is hard to get a guy’s attention,” I chuckle, gesturing in the direction of the bartender.
Okay, maybe that’s a little weak, but what-fucking-ever. I’m trying not to blow it, okay? No pun intended.
Hot Guy (yes, that is his official name so far) smiles even wider, apparently entertained by my antics.
“For a woman as pretty as yourself, it can’t be too hard. He just hasn’t seen you yet.”
I actually fucking blush at the compliment and lean on the bar, staring at him like the hopeless romantic that I am.
Things might just get interesting tonight after all.
4
Aaron
Yep, this beer hits the fucking spot. It’s really what I need right now, fuck that coffee bullshit to stay awake. I’m not looking to get hammered or anything, but a light buzz never fucking killed anyone, right?
District 21 is my favorite bar. Not just because my best friend Theo is a bartender there and I get complimentary top-shelf drinks.
All the hottest girls in the city flock to this bar. I don’t know what it is about this place, but the aura around here is fucking amazing.
This bar is always―hands down, would bet my fucking life on it―crawling with single, fuckable hot chicks.
Sure, there are a lot of pretty faces out there, but is that everything?
These days, people are always fucking swiping right or left, or getting their daily orgasm from a meaningless date on Tinder.
Not that I’m looking to settle down with any one woman. I mean, even the fucking idea of it makes my skin crawl.
That being said, I want a girl who can hold a fucking conversation with me without staring at me blankly, not understanding anything I say. Jesus, it shouldn’t be that hard, right?
But all the girls I know and get introduced to be hot bodies with air space for brains. I mean, if you could put a ‘vacancy’ or ‘for rent’ sign on their foreheads, that’s exactly what it would be like.
All the women I’ve met and encountered turn into something that I like to refer to as ‘just sex.’ You know, the no-strings-attached type. Girls who aren’t looking to get sucked into the black hole of a relationship, either, who just want a good hard fuck. Which of course makes them perfect candidates to sleep with.
Part of me is stuck on this idea that there should be more to a woman than a pretty face. I want intellectual stimulation, as well as cock-tingling stimulation, dammit. That probably explains why I’ve crafted Ms. Winters the way I have.
I take a hefty swig of my beer, relishing in the way it hits my belly with a warm splash, sending an amazing sensation jolting through my veins.
Yep, I’m in total relaxation mode now. Screw work, I can take the night off. I fucking deserve it every now and then.
My mind drifts back to my alter-ego.
What a hot fucking piece of ass she would be, but she’s more than that, too.
She actually has a few brain cells in her fictional head, unlike most of the mindless girls who just yawn and open their legs as if sex were boring and meaningless to them.
No, the idea of Ms. Winters enthralls me. I’m not fucking kidding. She’s the total package, and I wish she were real so I could meet her in reality.
I take another glorious gulp of my beer and pucker my lips at the refreshing taste. Damn, that is some good shit.
To my left, something tickles my arm delicately, and instinctively, my reaction is to turn around and face whomever is there.
A beautiful chestnut-haired woman stands next to me, squeezing in to fight for her space at the crowded bar.
It’s a fucking zoo in here, and each person has to fend for themselves. It’s total chaos, not gonna lie. Everyone is out for the same thing: drinks, dancing and hopefully meeting someone that leads to a hookup later.
I observe this woman with interest as she waves to the bartender, trying to flag him down. Luckily for her, the bartender just so happens to be my best friend.
She blows out a puff of air and drums her perfectly manicured nails against the bar top, making a light tapping sound that makes me smile, although I’m not really sure why.
She’s restless and on the verge of yelling at him to gain his attention.
This is where I decide to step in with my fresh wit and undying charismatic charm.
It’s perfectly evident how beautiful she is―in an obvious, apparent, and perfect kind of way. I’m sure she understands the depth of her gorgeousness, and probably uses it to her advantage on the regular.
I can’t place my finger on it, but it’s almost as if she’s effortlessly carrying herself with poise and smooth confidence, and that fucking draws me in like a fly to honey.
I don’t usually find myself smitten over a woman. I enjoy watching them, sure, but this woman…she encompasses true, uninhibited beauty that’s totally unmatched by anyone else swirling through the room.
Oh, right, remember how I just said I want to swoop in and become her knight in shining armor?
Well, she beats me to the punch and speaks first. I’m not entirely sure her words are directed at me, or just to the world in general, as she impatiently waits for bar service.
The hot girl sighs dramatically, but in a cute and adorable way. “It sure is hard to get a guy’s attention,” she chuckles, shaking her head.
I can’t help it. I can’t stop myself from replying. “For a woman as pretty as yourself, it can’t be too hard. He just hasn’t seen you yet.”
She turns to face me, blushing. Really, all I can think about is how ironic her statement is, because she’s the most breathtaking woman in this whole damn place.
She’s about to respond, but she appears to have a new distraction in lieu of yours truly.
She smiles at me and finally notices Theo coming our direction. “Bartender!” she calls out frantically albeit politely to capture his attention.
“Yeah.” He swiftly parks in front of her and places his hands on the bar top.
“Can I get a cosmopolitan and a mojito please?”
“Yeah, sure, coming right up.” Theo places his white rag over his shoulder and begins the process of pouring her drinks.
“I’ll pick up your tab,” I state as I hold my hand out for Theo to remember.
“Oh, no…that’s not necessary.” The hot girl shakes her head vigorously. “I don’t think we’re starting a tab anyway. I’ll just pay for these with cash.” She gives me a polite smile.
“Then I’ll give Theo here cash.” I grin up at my best friend who rolls his eyes at me, used to my flirting antics.
She takes a tiny step back. She would have taken a bigger one, but it’s totally fucking packed where we are.
I can tell that she’s sizing me up.
“You’re a persistent little fucker, aren’t you?” She grins as she teases me.
I fucking love it.
“I insist.” I flash her my million-dollar smile.
“Just let him pay,” Theo chimes in with his two cents. “He’s not one to quit.”
“You two know each other?” She points between us.
“I’ve been enduring more years of servitude wit
h this ole chap than I care to admit.” I wink up at Theo, who laughs in response.
“Ditto, pal,” he quips back.
“Well, in that case, I guess I’ll take his advice.” She nods her head in Theo’s direction. “You can buy my drinks…but just this once.” She holds up a prideful finger.
I sit up and grab my wallet out of my back pocket. “Thank you.”
I hand Theo a wad of cash.
“I think I should be thanking you,” she jokes with a chuckle.
“Sure,” I shrug humbly. “It’s really no trouble, though.”
The sexy lady bites her lip and stares at me as if she’s trying to figure me out, but I can tell that she’s amused and entertained by me and my light humor.
Theo hands her both drinks. She sets the mojito on the counter and clings onto the Cosmo for dear life.
After taking a refreshing sip of the cocktail, she grins mischievously at me.
“So, can I ask you a question?”
“I’m an open book.” I smile.
“I’m sure you are,” she chuckles.
“Well?” I ask, as she keeps me in suspense.
She takes another sip of her drink and then puts a finger to her chin. “Why is such a handsome guy like yourself all alone on a Friday night?”
“You think I’m handsome?” I beam, teasing her with my trademark charm.
She rolls her eyes. “Didn’t I just say that?”
“Yes,” I grin, “I just like to hear you say it because you’re gorgeous yourself.”
“Thank you.” She blushes, and it’s so fucking cute.
I reflect on her question, and honestly, I don’t have a valid answer. Theo returns to other indignant customers, so it’s not like I can count on him to cast me out a safety net.
“Beats me.” I shrug and laugh.
“Well, tonight’s your lucky night.” She grins as her eyes sparkle flirtatiously.
“Yeah?” I raise an eyebrow at her ambiguous and bold statement.
“My sister always tells me I need to live a little more, but she doesn’t understand that I’m already adventurous.”
“That’s nice to hear,” I say, wondering where she’s going with this.
“I’m going to ask you another question,” she states, and her assertiveness is such a fucking turn-on.
The Proposal Problem: A Billionaire Royal Hangover Romance Page 29