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“Luxtyn!”
Snapping my gaze toward the sound of my name, I see Monique, my boss, poking her head out the backdoor. “There are drink orders piling up on the bar. I need you back insidenow!” Glancing at my coworker, she adds, “You too, Kelly!” before disappearing back inside.
I can’t shake the feeling that something is off, so I glance down at my phone, noting the time, and begin counting down the hours until I can talk to my mom again. I just need confirmation she’s okay.
2
MATTEO
“Have you spoken to Mancini about the impending nuptials?” my younger brother, Enzo, asks over the pounding bass of the music at Fierce, a high-end nightclub I own in the heart of New York City.
“He rescheduled that meeting to Sunday,” I say as a group of ladies led by a familiar-looking blonde with long pin-straight hair, and even longer legs, make their way toward our VIP lounge.
“Incoming, Boss,” my guard, Rocco, says, nodding to the entrance of the room that is now occupied by the three girls. They’re each wearing the same style dress, just in different colors. Short enough that they barely cover the curve of their asses, and tight enough that their tits nearly pop up over the edge of their tops.
Gianni, who’s standing guard at the entrance of the squared-off room, glances back at me for confirmation, to which I give a slight nod, signaling him to allow the girls in.
The cushion of the black velvet couch sinks when my brother leans over, lowering his voice so only I can hear him. “You’re entertaining this?” Enzo scoffs. I’m sure he recognizes the blonde who hasn’t taken her eyes off me since she got up here, just like every other time she’s been at my club for the past month.
Angling my head toward my brother, I smirk as the blonde makes herself comfortable between Rocco and I while her friends flank him and my brother’s sides.
“Thanks for letting us join you,” the blonde next to me squeals, making me regret this decision. But there’s a purpose for her tonight, and until that purpose is fulfilled, I’m stuck with her.
Glancing over, I take in her bright-blue eyes and red lipstick. It could’ve been worse. At least the girlishot—when she doesn’t speak.
“I’m Ashley.” Her hand slides up my thigh, and I instinctively grab her wrist. She’s more eager than I anticipated, but I guess that’s to be expected coming from a girl who eye-fucks me every chance she gets.
Her eyes widen as she tenses, so I loosen my grip on her and extend my other arm around her shoulder while caressing her fingers on my leg. If I’m going to lead the girl on, the least I can do is not be a complete dick about it.
She relaxes into me, and her overly sweet perfume assaults my nostrils.Great, just what I need. To smell like a damn stripper.
“What’s your name?” she asks, pressing her fake tits into my side. I’m not an idiot; she’s been asking around about me and knows I own this club. I can’t stand when they act dumb, but it’s almost 11:00 p.m., so I’ll entertain this for a couple more minutes.
“Matteo.”
“Matteo,” she purrs as her glistening eyes dart to my lips. Why do women make it so damn easy?
“I have to admit, I’ve noticed you around.” She bats her fake lashes at me.
Look at that. Honesty. Say it ain’t so.
“Have you now?” I ask, disengaged.
Before she continues, I feel Rocco’s eyes shift toward me, likely trying to get my attention, which means someone else has finally found their way to our lounge.
Right on time.
“Yeah, I was hoping you’d?—”
“What exactly is going on here?” a nagging voice interrupts from across the room.
I side-eye the source of the noise. “Giuliana,” I acknowledge, my tone reflecting my relaxed demeanor. I feel my brother’s gaze settle on my face as he puts together why I’ve chosen to entertain these girls tonight out of all nights.
Giuliana looks cute in her tight little black dress with her pin-straight dark-brown hair hanging down just past her shoulders. I’ll even go as far as to say she’s hot, but this thing about her irritates the hell out of me, and if I’m going to be stuck with her attached to my name the rest of my life, it’s about time she understands where she stands.
“Who is thiswhorethat’s saddled up next to you with her talons glued to where they don’t belong, Matteo?” she sneers, crossing her arms and giving each of her friends who flanked her sides a smirk.
Ashley caresses my inner thigh, clueless to what she’s become a part of, and while I’d feel bad for her. . . well, I just don’t. Sympathy isn’t a trait I possess for meaningless women.
