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CHAPTER FOUR
BASTIENAINSWORTHLOOKED around the bar and was bored. Flow might be the new “it” place, but to him, it was the same old shit. He did have to give the owners props for their idea of having several ice slopes set up as shot stations on tables around the bar. The server stood on a step stool to pour a shot of tequila or whiskey down a solid block of ice shaped like a ski slope and into a kneeling participant’s mouth.
Maybe Bastien was just too old for this nonsense or maybe he wasn’t drunk enough, but it didn’t look appealing. Jace would love it, though. Bastien would ask his concierge to get them a VIP booth for one of the nights.
At least the bar had Wi-Fi, he thought as he thumbed down to his call history.
Mikelina.
Sexy name for such a prim and uptight voice. Bastien imagined she was this perfectly coiffed society princess who didn’t care about anything beyond handbags and shoes. Still, she was polite and professional, and he shouldn’t hold it against her that she should have been named something less enticing.
Mikelina. He liked the way her name sounded in his mouth.
Unfortunately, he got to say it into her voice mail. “Mikelina, call me.”
It occurred to him that it was past midnight and the noise from the bar might have drowned out his voice. He wouldn’t hold it against her if she didn’t call him back before their meeting tomorrow. Then again, if she did call back right away, he could get her to let him into the house tonight rather than tomorrow morning.
He’d taken an earlier flight because he wanted to get some business done before the craziness of the next two weeks, and after lunch with his mother and sister, going back to the office hadn’t appealed. So he dropped them both off at his parents’ house and drove immediately back to his place to grab his bags. It threw off his itinerary a bit, but he could adapt.
He hadn’t been looking forward to traveling with Jace and his groomsmen anyway. They got on his last nerve under normal situations. He didn’t want to compound his aggravation by adding in Homeland Security and airports into the mix. Bastien was hoping that at the end of the two weeks, however, he and Jace would be friends. But he didn’t think that was going to happen.
“Why are you marrying this douchebag?” was how he first phrased it to his sister.
“I love him. He’s so exciting,” Kitty had predictably replied, stars in her eyes.
Their father had looked at Bastien and inclined his head, telling him wordlessly to follow him into his study.
“It’s a good match,” he said when they were alone. “His father and I have an idea for merging a few of our clothing lines.”
Again, Bastien had doubts. Ainsworth was an old and respected clothing brand. They paid fair labor costs and provided quality clothes that would last. All About the Benjamins’s clothing line was more profitable and popular with the younger demographics, but rumor had it they cut a lot of corners that weren’t socially ethical.
Not that it would matter to his father.
Bastien sighed and stared out around the glowing nightclub. When did all the women in Miami Beach start to look the same? He was about to turn around and leave when he caught sight of a beautiful woman dancing in a VIP booth all alone.
Well, that seemed like a shame.
She had her eyes closed and the neck of a bottle of Perrier-Jouët in her hand. He watched as she ground against an invisible partner, his body reacting as if he was there next to her. One of her hands scrunched a handful of curly black hair away from her face. Her soft pink lips mouthed the words to the song throbbing through the club.
I want you. I need you. Take me all night long.
Bastien’s mouth went dry. He was moving toward her without realizing what he was doing.
The gorgeous dancer wore a white cotton halter dress that dipped into a deep V between her breasts. The tight fabric hugged her swaying hips and his fingers itched to touch her. Forcing himself to stop closing the distance, he made his way to the bar. He didn’t want to be a drooling creeper staring at her from outside the rope when she opened her eyes.
He’d drool from a distance.
He caught the bartender’s attention by holding up his Flow card, a shiny black badge that gave him VIP access and unlimited tab at the bar.
“Yes, sir?”
“Bottle of Perrier-Jouët Rosé,” he said, basing his decision on the pink champagne bottle the women was dancing with.
He took the bottle from the bartender just as the song ended and his dancer reluctantly opened her eyes. She tipped the bottle up to her mouth but must have come up dry. She squinted into it, then put it back on the glass table.
When she looked up into the crowd, there was a hint of melancholy in her pale green eyes. Her gaze swept the bar, then stopped at him. She gave him a once-over that revved him up to the next level. He showed her the champagne bottle and raised his eyebrow.
Wriggling her finger for him to approach, she sank down on the couch and crossed her legs. The dress was split up to midthigh and showed off her long, sexy legs.
