by J. C. Reed
No question, no offer—just a plain request that leaves no room for discussion.
“But…”
“It’s for your own safety,” Kade says, his tone a little sharper.
I should argue with him because no woman should ever let a man dictate what to do. And yet I just clamp my mouth shut and let him help me into his jacket, then pull the collar around my face.
Once done, he watches me, seemingly pleased with the result. “Nobody will recognize you like this.”
I want to point out that wearing a red dress underneath his black and very manly jacket might make me look a bit like a drag queen. At least his jacket is way too big on me. It’s almost as long as my dress.
“I look like a wannabe thug.” I laugh at the thought. Then again, the notion isn’t quite so ridiculous, given that I have a restraining order, which I’ve violated…and probably will violate again.
“I wouldn’t have said thug. More like a hot chick taking the walk of shame.”
I give him a little shove that sends him laughing.
“What about you?” I ask. “Someone might recognize you.”
“Don’t worry about me. I can always pretend it was my brother,” Kade says.
“Do you look alike?”
“I wouldn’t say that,” he mumbles and helps me out of the limousine. His hand is on the small of my back, but his body is slightly turned away from me. I want to pursue the topic, but I can sense his caginess and decide against it.
He guides me across the red carpet and heads straight to the bouncers, cutting the long line. I’m pretty sure a few cuss words are addressed at us, but Kade doesn’t seem to notice. Either that, or he really doesn’t care.
As we reach the bouncers—all eight of them look like they’ve been members of the steroid overuse club—I begin to doubt Kade’s sanity.
Those guys are large. I wouldn’t want to get in trouble with them. And they certainly look pissed that someone wouldn’t honor the line.
Every muscle in my body tenses as one of them takes a menacing step forward. “Your names?”
“Wright,” Kade replies. “Kade Wright. Cash Boyd is expecting us.”
“And her?” He points to me.
“She’s my plus one.” Kade’s arm moves around me and pulls me a little closer.
I’m instantly aware of his hard body and intoxicating scent. I should push him back, get the hell away from this guy who’s so different from Bruce, and yet all I do is close my eyes for a moment to inhale the scent of his aftershave.
“Give me a sec.”
I watch in astonishment as the bouncer talks into his headphone, then begins to swipe his large fingers furiously over his iPad. I lift on my toes to get a better look and catch a glimpse of photos.
Within seconds, he opens the belt and nods his head. “You’re clear.”
“About time,” Kade mutters.
Another guard hands us wristbands. I peer at the purple color with gold dots and the cursive writing that reads “VIP.”
Wow.
I’ve never been a VIP in my life.
I don’t think I’ve ever even met one.
“You were right.” Kade’s lips twitch as he motions me through the open door. “They’re extremely hostile. Now we’ll have to find a way to sneak in through the staff kitchen. I suggest we pretend that we work here.”
I roll my eyes. “Are you always a goof?”
“Only when I’m around you.” His fingers curl around mine. “Shall we?”
I nod my head, interweaving my fingers with his, and let him guide me.
The club’s like a maze. The stairs lead to a basement, which is poorly populated. The few patrons are nursing drinks at the imposing bar area. Kade leads us up another flight of stairs into an open area with a busy bar and a dancing circle that seems to have been carved out of glass. The music is so loud, I don’t even try to ask him where we’re headed as he takes us to the top floor that overlooks the entire area below.
My head swirls from the LED starlight ceiling. Even the walls seem to glow. And there are way too many mirrors. Passing one, I stop briefly to shrug out of Kade’s jacket and hand it back to him.
“If you’re not being careful, you’ll lose your jaw,” Kade whispers in my ear. “I’d hate to miss your beautiful mouth.”
His statement comes out of the blue, and I’ve no idea what to make of it. But this isn’t the time to ponder over his enigmatic comment.
“This place is so cool.” I spin to face him. “I love it here. Why didn’t you tell me it was going to be this awesome?”
He lets out a chuckle, his eyes meeting mine. “Wait until you taste the drinks and see the live band.”
Girls in skimpy shorts and tops brush past us, holding serving trays. Like the bottles they’re carrying, they look expensive—expensive hair, expensive makeup.
One of them eyes Kade up and down. Even though I really don’t care if he hooks up with her, I’m so not going to wait for her to make her move.
I turn around, pointing my finger to the top floor. “I want to see what’s up there.”
“Sure.”
We fight our way through the crowd, past the bar until we stop in front of another bouncer guarding the entrance that says “VIP AREA.” I expect him to inspect our wristbands. Instead, he shifts in front of us and asks in the kind of tone that makes me want to run as fast as I can, “The password?”
“If life is a party, don’t waste it by asking stupid questions,” Kade says, unfazed.
My heart gives a jolt.
What sort of answer is that?
Is he trying to get our asses thrown out or whacked or whatever it is this guy does to annoying clientele?
Holding my breath, I turn to the bouncer, expecting to see a red face and veins popping out. But he just nods and steps aside, making room for us.
We ascend the narrow stairs. Only when I think we’re safe do I ask the obvious. “That was the password?”
“Yeah. Cash has a penchant for the theatrical. I think you two would get along.”
“Maybe,” I say, even though I highly doubt it. From the looks of this place, Cash is a very rich man, meaning he and I probably have nothing in common.
The top floor is even better than the other levels combined with its own bar area, a lounge area, and a gaming room. On the west side is a huge veranda that overlooks the people below, their bodies writhing to the rhythm of the music. Near the bar, dancers sway their half-naked bodies around poles.
“That’s his style, too?” I laugh and shake my head.
“Those aren’t strippers, if that’s what you’re implying.” Kade’s eyes remain glued to one of the girls with her breasts almost spilling out of her corset. A double D, without a doubt. “They’re dancers. Real professionals who get jobs in music videos and tour with pop stars.”
I snort and when one of them does a split, I say, “The only thing they have in common with dancers is that they do love an audience.”
I know I sound bitter, but I can’t help myself. They’re gorgeous and sure know how to use their perfect bodies. I can’t blame Kade for gawking just as much as I can’t blame them for gawking at him.
As if on cue, a stunning blonde heads straight for us, balancing on six-inch stilettos that make her almost as tall as Kade. Her flowing hair brushes the front of her top, emphasizing the generous cleavage that can’t possibly be natural.
She is a beautiful woman with a confidence that stems from getting plenty of male attention. As she joins his side, her hand settles on Kade’s shoulder, resting there naturally as she pulls her leg up, brushing the front of his pants.
The movement looks straight out of a Robin Thicke music video.
It pisses me off for no reason.
As she struts her way to another guest, I realize Kade’s gaze is glued to her. I don’t like the look.
His expression is hooded, lips parted, and I realize he wants to fuck her.
“It didn’t take
you long to get our newest star’s attention,” a voice says.
I spin around and stare up at the guy dressed in a suit. And not just any suit. Thanks to my sister’s obsession with fashion magazines, I’m pretty sure he’s wearing this season’s Armani. Judging from the gold Rolex clasped around his wrist, the two meaty bouncers guarding his left and right, and his hot but arrogant features, I wouldn’t be surprised if he was a celebrity or someone important.
“How’s it going, Cash?” Kade draws his friend into a brief hug.
This is Cash?
The nightclub owner?
I’ve seen my fair share of beautiful men but have never fallen in love with one. Those two are out of this world with the kind of brashness that screams hot sex. Even though Cash screams luxury designer clothing and Kade looks kind of boyish rugged in his jeans and a shirt, both share that something special that seems to draw every woman’s look to them.
And they’re all staring—the dancers and the guests alike.
Even I find myself staring. Their faces as exquisite, their bodies chiseled to perfection as though they’ve been Photoshopped. But it’s their attitude that pulls you in, fills you with the wish to find out more about them, and makes you want to touch them.
I bet every woman in the club would want to take at least one of them home.
I can see that now. I can see it from the way they flick their hair back, push their breasts out, lick their lips, stop their conversations—and just stare.
Away from rehab, having just entered his natural habitat, it’s easy to forget who he really is. It’s hard not to really see him and acknowledge that he’s hot.
It has been ages since I’ve last had sex.
The thought hits me like a bucket of cold water.
It must be the alcohol, even though deep down I know it’s not the truth.
“I see you were able to break out.” Cash’s voice draws me back. The two friends are standing shoulder at shoulder, staring at the new dancer. “So, hot or not?” he asks Kade.
“I think this one might be your best yet.”
“You can have her. I’ve got a room set up for you, which…” His voice trails off as he catches Kade’s glance at me.
I’m not a tall, half-naked dancer with legs that reach up to the sky, which is probably the reason why he didn’t notice me before.
“It’s okay.” I gesture with my hand a little too enthusiastically, and it looks as though I’m swatting at an annoying fly. “Don’t mind me listening in. You were saying you’ve set up a room for him and” I encourage him to finish.
Cash raises a brow, and his mouth breaks into a smile as he takes a step forward. “And you are?”
I peer all the way up and realize his eyes are impossibly green and piercing. He looks feral, almost wild. Before I can open my mouth, Kade says, “A friend. Leave it at that.”
Kade’s hand travels down my spine and settles on the small of my back, and for a moment I fear he’s going to pull me against him. But his hand just rests there, the pressure a little too hard. “Vicky, this is Cash. Cash, this is Vicky.”
“Nice to meet you.” I grab Cash’s outstretched hand, feeling his gaze on me, and give it a strong shake.
He doesn’t release my hand as his glance travels down my dress and settles on my breasts. They’re not as generously sized as the dancers’, but my backside and hips, which always used to carry the extra fat, really make up for it. Eventually, he addresses Kade. “Is this…?”
Kade goes rigid. I peer up at him and see his set jaw. “Actually, Vicky needs to make a call. Do you mind if she uses your office?”
I regard him, unsure whether to call him out on his lie, then decide against it. Maybe he’s trying to get rid of me so he can hook up with the dancer, in which case I sure won’t be standing in his way.
“Sure.” Cash nods his head. “Follow me.” He smirks apologetically. “Don’t pay attention to the naked walls. The club renovations took longer than expected, and I didn’t get to finish the office. But the basics are there.”
“Give us a moment,” Kade says as soon as we’ve reached the office.
Cash hesitates for a moment but then leaves, closing the door behind him.
“Feel free to take all the time you need,” Kade says. “Just do me a favor and don’t run away. We need to be back before breakfast.”
“I wasn’t planning on running away.” I settle into Cash’s leather chair. “You booked this ride before you asked me to tag along. Why?”
“Why?” Kade’s expression is blank.
“Why are you doing this?” I elaborate. “You didn’t have to. Obviously, your friend had very specific plans for you tonight. And I’m—”
I struggle to find the right expression, but all that pops into my mind is ‘spare baggage.’
He smiles gently. “We’re friends. That’s what friends do. They support each other.”
“But you barely know me.” I brush my hair back, confused.
“And?”
“You’re supposed to be my partner, to help me get over my addiction.” I shake my head.
“I think I’m doing a great job so far. Don’t you?”
I laugh. “You can’t be serious. All you’ve done so far was help me break the rules. You’re taking risks for me even though you’re raising the odds of you being caught. I just want to know why.”
“It’s no big deal, Vicky. I see that you miss him and that you really need to hear from him. What am I supposed to do? Stop you from having feelings? Leave you in pain?” He circles the chair and places his hands on my shoulders. Even though my back’s turned to him and I can’t read his features, I can feel his soft expression. Strange as it may sound, he understands me.
“Look, I don’t know if this asshole deserves you,” Kade continues. “I don’t know if this whole rehab thing works. All I know is that I hear you crying at night. You’re shedding tears over a guy who’s probably not worth it, and it’s none of my business. But seeing you hiding in that smelly old library day in, day out, reading old marine books, wasting your life, that is my business. As your friend, I’ve made it my priority to look after you. So, here you are.”
I let out a laugh. “You’re right. The library’s a bit stuffy, and the book collection sucks. It’s either historical, non-fiction or books about sailing and marine life. Don’t even get me started on the addiction stuff. There’s no romance; nothing exciting to read. Given the lack of choice, the marine stuff is almost bearable.”
His fingers brush the nape of my neck, massaging gently. The last few months’ pressure begins to lift almost instantly.
“What will you do when you’ve finished them all?”
“I don’t know. Read your first draft, I guess.” I close my eyes and lean into his hands, swallowing down the moan in my throat. His fingers are pure magic, which doesn’t come as a surprise considering the rest of him is just as good. “I’m sorry, Kade. I’m doing a terrible job of looking after you.”
“I’m doing good.” He stops his massage abruptly and pulls back. I should feel relief, but instead I find myself pouting with disappointment. “Okay, I’ll leave you to it. Do whatever you need to do. You have—” he looks at his watch, “—three hours left.”
That’s a lot of time to catch up on Bruce.
I watch him heading for the door, a part of me not wanting him to leave. “Kade?” I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I don’t know how to thank you. Right now, you might be the only friend I have. Not even my family understands me.”
I expect him to make fun of me, crack a joke, anything I’ve come to expect from him. But he doesn’t.
From the door, he looks at me for a long time before he says, “I do care about you. That’s all.”
I want to say something, but I can’t say what I’m thinking—that I like him, too, even though I shouldn’t.
Instead, I keep quiet as I watch him leave.
Chapter Sixteen
Vicky
* * *
September 12th
* * *
Dear Jane,
* * *
Bruce accepted my fake friend request within hours. I should be happy, but I’m not. I’m both angry and hurt. Within a few minutes he sent two messages to the fake profile while ignoring the ones I had sent.
My heart is hurting as I think of him, and a part of me can’t help but wonder if he’s into her—the model. She’s hot, but not that hot. On a second thought, she looks like a gnarly, anorexic stick. Is that what he wants?
Obviously, I can’t reply to him and call him out on it. The only purpose of creating a fake account was to spy on him, find out what he’s been doing. Not for him to ask me—the person behind the fake profile—out.
I don’t know what to think. I don’t know if I should be angry and offended, or hurt and just put up with it. In retrospect, I should never have chosen a Victoria’s Secret model, but then he’d probably not have accepted an ugly person’s friend request, would he?
The messages were mostly harmless, except for the fact that he calls her beautiful and sexy. He wants to meet her and has invited her to a horse racing thing his family is always attending.
He’s never invited me to join them.
I don’t have to tell you how much that breaks my heart.
But surprisingly, somehow there’s also strength and a little hope that maybe he suspects that I’m behind the fake account.
Even though a part of me wants to know more, if only to see how far he’d go, I’m going to delete the fake account. Not today, but as soon as rehab’s over.
I’ve also decided to swallow my pain and not confront him.
I’m sure Lizzy Bennet’s heart was broken countless times before Mr. Darcy proposed. I might not be a Victoria’s Secret model, but surely inner values count just as much, and I have plenty of those.
* * *
Yours affectionately,