Ten Good Reasons

by Lauren Christopher

  “Some of these areas open at ten,” Kyle yelled over the music, pointing to a series of back rooms closed off by curtains. “Although I guess Lia knows that.”

  “The Den at Ten,” Lia said, offering a tentative smile and trying not to imagine what probably went on back there. The models for the design of those alcoves were pictures of old opium dens from the eighteen hundreds. He’d had fourteen circular, tufted, velvet ottomans installed in each one that guests could use as tables, or sitting areas, or beds. Seven of the dens were outfitted with hookah pipes, and Plush boasted fifty flavors that Lia had detailed on the website.

  Avery’s fingers hooked around Evan’s biceps as they made it past the last hookah den. Lia pretended not to notice.

  Kyle ushered them through the next curtain, where a bar made entirely of ice sprawled for fifty feet. “Plush” was carved into the front and sides, with ice sculptures positioned every ten feet that took on the shape of female torsos, reaching toward the lavender lit ceiling. Lia knew that Kyle had this bar carved by a team of ice sculptors every night. Rumor had it he requested his most recent lovers—whoever the current cluster was—to stand in as models for his sculptors, and the bodies were always changing. Licking was encouraged.

  “Why don’t you guys get a drink?” Kyle said. “I’ll have my table set up for four.” He called his bartender over and ordered something into the bartender’s ear, pointing to the three of them. “I need to check on something. Avery?” Kyle held out his arm, and Avery switched from holding Evan to holding Kyle. Lia wanted to roll her eyes.

  “We’ll be right back,” Kyle said, snaking Avery through the bar.

  Their disappearance left a gap between Lia and Evan at the bar, but Evan didn’t close it. Instead he seemed to be counting the exit doors.

  “You didn’t have to come,” Lia shouted over the music.

  Evan nodded once. He looked like he wanted to be anywhere but there.

  An old-fashioned cigarette girl with a pillbox hat and bright purple feather dipping down over fake eyelashes approached with a box of electronic cigarettes. She struck a pose in ridiculously high platform heels and fishnet stockings and thrust the box that hung around her neck toward Evan. She was dark and elegant, with long hair slicked into a loose ponytail down one side of her body. He shook his head and forced his gaze away. She seemed to find that amusing, and reached out to touch his chin and bring it back to her attention. “Are you sure?” she seemed to say, if Lia read her lips correctly.

  Evan nodded, and she strutted away with a flirtatious smile.

  “Why did you?” Lia shouted. She was suddenly hyperaware that her loud voice and demeanor were not at all as cute and flirty as the pillbox girl.

  A bartender slid two drinks toward them, some kind of dark red wine that almost looked like blood.

  Evan stared at the drinks but didn’t touch his. “Why did I what?”

  “Why did you come?”

  Lia brought the drink to her lips. It smelled like port, perhaps—sultry and rich. It slid down her throat, thick and silky, with a warm aftertaste. She closed her eyes to enjoy it.

  When she opened them, he was staring right at her. “That, maybe,” he said.

  “What?”

  He shook his head.

  The music pounded behind them for almost a full minute before he spoke again. “I don’t trust him.”

  “You came because you don’t trust him?”

  “I wanted to come for you and Avery, to make sure you’d be okay with him.”

  Fury flooded her veins again, but this time it was joined by a warmth through her scalp and cheeks that could have been the wine.

  She leaned forward so her harsh whisper could be heard above the music. “Evan, I don’t need you to protect me. I thought I made that clear.”

  “You did.”

  “This is my client.”

  “I understand.”

  “I do this for a living.”

  He nodded.

  “But you still came?”

  “Didn’t change my distrust.”

  She leaned back and took another sip of the racy drink. The wine filled the back of her throat and slid down into her stomach again, warming her all over.

  “Why is this any of your business?” she asked.

  He stared at his fists for a second, then shook his head. “It isn’t.”

  “Exactly.”

  She leaned back. Another sip. Fire in her belly . . . fireworks in her brain . . .

  “I’m experienced with him,” she went on. “As a client. I know what he wants, and what my boss wants him to want, and we know how to handle him.”

  “Got it.” Evan was frowning at her curiously.

  She took another deep sip. Swirled her glass. “We’ve gotta . . . My boss . . . She knows him. And anything he wants, you know?”

  The lines in Evan’s forehead deepened and he lifted his own glass. Sniffed it.

  “She wants me . . . to do anything . . . I mean, anything he wants. . . .” The thoughts were getting muddied in her head for some reason. Wasn’t that what Evan had told her? That she didn’t have to do whatever Kyle wanted? And didn’t the Vampiress say the opposite thing? So why was she telling Evan this? And were those ice sculptures moving? Maybe they were just melting. “I mean, I know you said . . .” She strained to remember if she was arguing a point or not.

  She reached for her glass again, but he slid his hand over it. “Let’s hold off on this a minute. Bartender?” He motioned for two waters.

  Before she could voice her indignation, or even snatch her glass back, he leaned forward and locked her gaze with the eyes she forgot were so blue.

  “Listen.” He dropped his voice. “He might want to invest in Drew’s boat, so you don’t need to convince him of anything tonight. Why don’t you just stick with me, and we can enjoy dinner, then I’ll get you home.”

  “How do you know?” Her mouth had a hard time getting around the n sound. Dang, what was she drinking?

  “He told me in the limo. I asked if he was—”

  “E-van!”

  He had the decency to look sheepish.

  “Stop speaking for me! Stop protecting me. Stop doing my job for me. Stop taking my wineglass away. Stop talking to my client about my business. I’m fine.”

  He studied her for a second, then shifted uncomfortably and looked away.

  “You got it?”

  His jaw muscle danced as he nodded, but he didn’t meet her eyes.

  “You need to stop this caveman behavior.”

  “Caveman behavior?”

  “Yes, caveman behavior. This overprotectiveness. It’s unbecoming.”

  He flashed her a quick, angry look.

  “Why do you feel the need to do those things?” She really wanted to know. Not just from Evan but from all men.

  He shook his head and looked away. Lines crossed his forehead.

  “No, I really want to know. Do I seem stupid to you? Too ‘Cinderella’?”

  He switched his scowl to the bar and stared at his fists.

  “I need some words here.”

  He reached for his water glass, not seeming like he was going to answer, but finally he took a deep breath. “I don’t think you’re stupid.”

  “Then what is it?”

  “I think you’re trusting.”

  Ah . . . Now they were getting somewhere. She knew a euphemism when she heard one.

  “You mean gullible, don’t you?”

  “Did I say gullible?”

  “No, but maybe you don’t say what you mean.”

  “I say what I mean.”

  “So say more. You think I’m trusting and what?”

  He looked away.

  “Trusting and what?”

  “Optimistic.”

 
She leaned back in her seat. She was getting good at this. Interrogating Captain Betancourt. It was kind of fun. And, for some reason, she was starving for these answers.

  “So is that bad? Optimism?” she asked.

  “It can be.”

  “Why is that bad?”

  “It can make you look at the world with unrealistic expectations. Make you think it’s filled with good things when really it’s filled with bad.”

  “So you came tonight to protect me and Avery from being too optimistic?”

  He shrugged.

  “Too trusting of Kyle?”

  “Probably.”

  “You’re going to save me from Kyle?”

  “It’s possible.”

  “A successful, wealthy, Armani-wearing Harvard grad? You’re going to save me from him?”

  Evan sighed and stared at his glass. “None of those things makes him necessarily trustworthy.”

  “Maybe you’re just too suspicious.”

  “Maybe I am.”

  The richness of the wine, or maybe the intense look in his eyes, or maybe the sudden loneliness she saw around the lines of his mouth made a heat simmer low in her belly, and she took a step away from the conversation. Some kind of intensity was building between them, and it made her feel like she was coming too close to a flame.

  “Listen, I don’t want to make you mad,” he said.

  She had to lean in to hear him. It sounded almost like an apology. And also like something that didn’t fall naturally from his lips.

  “Maybe I’m concerned about Drew, too,” he added.

  She talked her heart back into a normal rhythm and took a deep breath. Okay. That could be true. He could be overstepping all kinds of boundaries because he was a naturally suspicious person, and because of his brother. That made sense, right? She struggled to organize a few columns of logic in her head.

  While she waited for a hopeful return to sobriety, she checked Evan out. Although maybe checking him out with a slight buzz wasn’t the best idea. His hanging hair was looking sexier and sexier, especially the way he snapped it out of his eyes with some kind of vengeance. His dark lashes, now lowered to his water glass, were longer than she’d first noticed. Through the darkened room, through the sultry music, he looked like passion personified.

  He had changed into a dark button-down shirt, rolled up at the sleeves, and a pair of darker jeans. She liked the vague rebellion of the jeans. It felt almost like what she was doing, with the work dress. Forrest would have been ultra-respectful in Kyle’s swanky club—probably a bit over-the-top, in fact—wearing a pressed shirt with some kind of stylish, unbuttoned vest. And Lia probably would have complimented him on his good taste. But right now, for some reason, all she wanted was to run her hand up Evan’s irreverent jeans and lick his insolent five-o’clock shadow.

  “Hello.” A strange-looking host suddenly arrived at Lia’s shoulder. “Mr. Stevens and Miss James are having dinner in a private den in the dance club. He said he’d love for you both to join them. They’re in Den Thirteen.”

  Lia lifted her eyebrow at Evan, but he didn’t seem surprised.

  “Your steak is already served, sir.” The host bowed slightly. “Come with me.”

  “You already ordered steak?” she whispered as they left the bar.

  “Stevens seemed insistent on enjoying his club’s specialties, including the girls and the steak. It has been a while.”

  “Eating steak?”

  The corner of his mouth crooked upward. “Yes, Cinderella, eating steak. What did you think I meant?”

  Eating steak. Of course. Of course that’s what she meant. . . .

  She cleared her throat and concentrated on following the host. She wanted to turn and make more casual conversation with Evan—ask him more about sailing, about why he was away for so long, about his dead wife, about his relationship with Drew. But the clip with which they were walking, along with the loud music, made conversation difficult.

  Besides, he seemed more interested in a good meal right now than in her.

  And besides that, she was too buzzed to keep her wits about her with a man who was causing a tingling between her legs.

  She didn’t know whether to dread or look forward to Den Thirteen.

  CHAPTER

  Eleven

  Evan dragged his feet all the way to the den, keeping his head down and his hand in his pocket as they carved their way through the nauseating beat and the crowds that had suddenly filled the dance floor.

  Cinderella peeked behind Curtain Thirteen and then waved him in. His stomach clenched. This was not going to go well.

  For one, Cinderella was drunk. Well, not drunk, but leaning toward it. He didn’t know what the hell kind of wine Kyle had ordered, but it was knocking her on her ass. And he didn’t want her to have so many defenses down if they were going to see Stevens. Especially with her willingness to trust anyone with a Harvard degree and nice shoes.

  Two, Stevens was probably smashed. And capable of anything.

  And three, Evan was completely turned on. And he probably shouldn’t be trusted with her, either. He didn’t know if it was all these waitresses in short skirts, the women at the bar licking the ice sculptures, or his memory of Cinderella’s flashing eyes when her anger was riled, but he’d been aroused for the last half hour. And these ice sculptures weren’t helping.

  “Lia! Evan! Come in!” Kyle held out his arm and motioned to two spaces around a purple ottoman that seemed to be used as a dining table. Candles in colored-glass jars covered the room. In the center of the ottoman sat two more bottles of the same wine Kyle had sent to Evan and Lia. “Meet Sara and Holden,” he said.

  Lia and Evan nodded to each of them. Sara’s pretty face was illuminated in candlelight. She seemed to be in her early twenties, and smiled at Evan before she turned back to young Holden, who seemed about her age.

  Lia lowered herself to a bright pink pillow with gaudy fringe all around it, and Evan took one beside her after scooting it away a bit. The techno dance music drifted through the curtain. Avery had her eyes closed and bounced a bare foot. She pulled a tube from a three-foot-high bejeweled hookah pipe that sat just behind her and giggled as she sent a series of smoke rings into the air. They glowed a sort of yellow against the burning candles.

  Kyle wasn’t paying much attention to Evan or Lia anymore, having turned his attention back to Avery’s mouth. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad. Evan could pretend this was a normal dinner, then get the women out of here.

  He took in the steaks and small bowls of food and candles across the ottoman. “Strange way to eat,” he said to Holden, who was the only one looking at him.

  “It’s meant to engage all your senses,” Holden said, throwing a grin toward Sara. “You can touch one another while eating, eat with your hands, lean in together, feed one another. . . .” His explanation was lost as he found Sara’s mouth.

  Shit.

  Evan glanced at Lia, who was gaping at the couple, but then she adjusted her gaze toward the dinner.

  “Have something.” Kyle slipped his cell into his pocket and leaned toward Cinderella, letting poor Avery slide off his shoulder. Avery laughed with undue hilarity. Her toes kicked elegantly to the music. Evan ran his hand down his face. This was going to be an adventure.

  Kyle called a few more waitresses in and made sure everyone had what they needed. Holden continued to feed Sara. Evan wolfed down his steak with a singular focus. Although the steak was the best thing he’d had in months, he really just wanted to get everyone out of here. He glanced at Lia’s plate a few times. She was hardly eating. He wished she’d eat faster to offset the booze and so they could leave, but he didn’t dare say anything. She’d called him a caveman one too many times already.

  “The band that comes on at one is amazing,” Kyle announced. “Have you guys heard of Indecency?�
��

  “I love to dance!” Avery said, offering a short shimmy to prove it. “Are they a dance band?”

  “They are,” Kyle said. “You’ll love them. And the girls start dancing at one—the go-go dancers in the holograms. You have to see it. I want to find one for Evan.”

  Cinderella lifted her head.

  “I can go-go for Evan!” Avery said, giggling.

  Kyle laughed. “Can you get your babysitter to stay later?”

  “I could call and—”

  “No!” Evan interjected. “No, we need to get home.”

  Kyle looked at him as if he were the crusty old dean, then motioned for another waitress. “Send Kendra in, will you?” The waitress nodded and left.

  Kyle turned toward Lia. “So did you and Evan have a romantic drink at the bar? Or maybe a dance?”

  Shit.

  “Romantic?” Lia laughed. “No, but it was delicious. Decadent. And we didn’t dance, but we enjoyed your bar. It’s beautiful, by the way.”

  Kyle slid a glance at Evan.

  Shit again.

  “Well, our DJ is fabulous,” Kyle said. “His name is Master X. I don’t think you can leave without one dance.” He stood and held his hand out to her.

  “We really have to get going, Kyle,” Evan said, pushing his plate back.

  “No, look, I ordered dessert for everyone.” Kyle motioned to the waitresses who entered with lavish dessert trays, piled high with all kinds of cakes and chocolate-covered tall things. Avery, Lia, Holden, and Sara all leaned forward and let out small exclamations.

  Kyle’s eyes met Evan’s. “Just stay long enough for dessert.”

  Crap. Kyle leaned over and said something into Lia’s ear.

  “We’ll be right back,” he said, lifting Lia gracefully in the candlelight. She gazed up at him. Evan couldn’t even look at them. It occurred to him that he’d never made her look that happy once in two days. . . . Except maybe when she’d been looking at the dolphins . . . But he hadn’t brought her that; nature had.

  Kyle dragged Cinderella through the curtain, and Evan felt a crushing sense of defeat. He simply stared at Holden and Sara, who were going at it now across four colored pillows, grinding to the techno music. Avery had moved back to a fainting couch in the back of the den, taking another drag on the pipe. She lay against the cushions, eyes closed, a deep grin on her face.