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With a quick dick adjustment, I exit her room, chiding myself as I close the door behind me.

Halfway down the corridor, I dial the club. Miranda picks up on the third ring. “Hi, Mr. Bergeron.”

“I need you to close up tonight. You’re familiar with Brie’s routine?” I gave my manager the night off, and for as much headache and grief as her sister gives me, I have to admit, I hate the nights Brie isn’t working.

“Perfectly familiar, Mr. Bergeron.”

“Good. I’ll check all the numbers tomorrow morning. Make sure Brock gets paid.”

Brock is the club promoter we hired when things first started rolling. Probably the biggest reason the club is booming now. He brought in a whole lot of high rollers, by recruiting beautiful women and some of his social media kingpin buddies. It was a strategy I presented to Julio years back, and fortunately for me, it worked. Otherwise, I suspect I’d be nothing but a pile of bones six feet under.

“I will. He brought in some bigwig from Dubai tonight. You should’ve seen the liquor at the table. Holy shit.”

“Fantastic.”

“Have a good night, Mr. Bergeron.”

With the sexual frustration gnawing at my zipper, I take the elevator down to the lobby. The doors open, and I skid to a halt, muscles tensing like knotted ropes beneath my skin. “Aric.” The dirty fed stands alongside Marcelle, who, as usual, diverts her gaze from mine. “I see you decided to stay on the island for a night.”

“Ah, couldn’t resist the company.” He slaps her on the ass, and Marcelle lurches forward. “You don’t mind, do ya?”

I make clear eye contact with her, and catch the subtle nod, before her gaze shifts from mine again. “So long as it’s consensual and not on my turf.” Tricky girl, this one. And there isn’t much I can say, or do, seeing as she’s not on my clock at the moment.

“Not that it would matter, either way. So, what brings you to this fine establishment tonight?”

“Business, as always.”

“Well, it’s my business to know your business.”

It’s only for the sake of the many negotiations it took to get this fucker on board that I play along. “I’m here to check out the amenities for a rather important guest.”

“And who might that be?”

“Business mogul from Dubai. He’s at the club now, dropping thousands of dollars on drinks.” I don’t need to spell it out for him. The better the club does, the better his odds of getting paid.

“Good man. The world needs ass-kissers. Say, while you’re at it, how about you check my amenities, as well?”

“Go fuck yourself, Aric.”

“Careful now. You wouldn’t want to single-handedly ruin a beautiful friendship like ours. Such a thing would be tragic.”

It might also come to pass, if my blood pressure doesn’t level out in the next couple of minutes. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to get back to the club.”

“Excused. I need to get to my room before I paint the walls of the elevator with my spunk.” The obnoxious laugh that flies out of him strikes a homicidal chord.

Pigs are cleaner and far more gracious than this asshole.

We part ways, but the moment he steps onto the elevator and the doors close, I spin around and head for the stairwell. Three flights up, I push through the door, keeping a good bit of distance behind Aric and Marcelle who turn the corner. The same corner leading toward the same corridor as Carly’s room.

It’s amazing how a simple evening can become so fucking complicated.

Once they’re out of view, I kick up my stride, and a figure comes sweeping around the corner. The sight of her has my muscles both tense with fury and stunned with lust. In her hand is an ice bucket, and the unwitting little distraction smiles sheepishly, holding it up as she approaches. “Any idea where a girl can get some ice?”

“What are you doing out of your room?”

“What are you still doing here? I thought you left?”

Gripping her by the arm, I guide her back toward the room.