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Their club.
No matter how much I pleaded about the unfair ban, he didn’t budge and promised me there would be consequences if I went against his word, so I had no choice but to follow the rules.
Luna fishes inside her bag and takes out a hundred-dollar bill, giving it to the cabbie. “Thank you.” She gets out of the car, and I quickly follow, sending the cabbie a brief smile on the way. “I can’t believe we’re finally here!”
A light breeze nips at my skin, skimming the skirt of my dress over my legs while I observe various people stuck in the long line, wearing different designer clothes as bouncers check invitations and either let them in or send them home. The anticipation written all over these people’s faces should tell me everything I need to know.
The rumors are true, and well…I once heard a girl fainted when they refused her and then begged on her knees to get in, which kind of made the news. Truth be told, what kind of shit do they do in there that they managed to earn such a reaction from the girl?
I wince inwardly, discomfort rushing through me at the thought of them turning me down, or worse. My face ending up on the tabloids when I’m kicked out of my brother’s club. “I wish I could share your excitement, but we’re going to get in so much trouble for this. It sort of sours my mood.”
Luna presses the golden envelope to her chest and hooks her arm with mine, dragging me toward the entrance, and drops her voice to a whisper. “Stop being so grumpy, or you’ll blow our covers.”
Another thing that fills me with nervousness and paints rather depressing images in my head?
It’s the stupid wigs my best friend made us wear so we can fly under the radar, and while she got a dark one, my fiery-red one draws attention to me.
It’s silky, long, and wavy, and transforms me into this curvy creature with my blue eyes standing out against my complexion.
I feel ridiculous in it and constantly touch it to make sure it’s still on my head. I changed into a black dress as well.
“I hope it’s worth it.”
“What the hell happened to you, Jimena? You used to love our constant antics, but these past few years, you’ve just become…”
“Boring?”
“I didn’t want to use that word, but yes. Girl, you’ve done some crazy-ass shit with me.” She laughs as we walk toward the entrance, our heels clicking on the asphalt. “Remember how we used fake IDs and got into a club where Remi has his illegal fights with assholes? We saw some wild stuff before they dragged us out.”
Yeah, it was fun for exactly fifteen minutes before Octavius busted our asses and told us calmly to get out before he said something to Santiago or Vincent.
Count on him to always give you choices, even if you hate every single one of them.
“I guess I’m growing up.”
“Yet you still can’t lie for shit.” She gives me a knowing look that promises me an interrogation in the near future because my best friend apparently has had enough of my moping around. Truth be told, I’m tired myself from acting this way and would like to get the old Jimena back. She was way more fun and less depressed over the things she could never have. “Hi.” She greets the guards as we step in front of them.
One of the bouncers, a beefy guy wearing all black, frowns at her and lifts his chin. “End of the line.” His voice leaves no room for argument, and I’m ready to listen to it, but Luna stands still. “Don’t make me repeat myself.”
My friend smiles brightly at him, making the guy blink in surprise as she extends her golden envelope to him. “I believe this VIP invitation speaks for itself. No queues for us.”
He scans it for several beats and barks, “John.” The other guy removes the rope. “Welcome to the club, ladies.”
“Thank you,” I barely say as Luna pulls me inside. “How did you get the VIP invitation?” I might act like I don’t care about all this, but I’ve heard the rumors floating around about the place. From questioning behavior to exclusive passes, to get inside here you have to know someone. And VIP?
You’d have to be a Greek god himself, no less.
“I have my ways.”
“In other words, you stole it.”
“Since you’re related to one of the owners, I choose to stay silent.”
“That’s so—”
I snap my mouth shut when we reach the end of the hallway, and the hostess greets us, her brow raised. She’s elegant and sophisticated with her blonde hair pulled in ponytail, standing behind her desk. “Good evening, ladies.” She picks up the invitation and types something on her computer. “Welcome.” She runs her gaze over us. “Where are your masks?”
“Masks?” I ask in confusion.
