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Azaria was already drunk. The section was full of some of the hottest rich girls from California with bottles and drugs everywhere. Back then, her naturally honey-blonde hair was long and straight, her gym body was right, and she had that same look on her face like she didn’t care about anything going on around her. She saw me too, looked me over, and smirked.

I should’ve left her alone, but instead, I told the club owner to merge our sections without asking anybody. Now she was close enough for me to smell the Chanel on her skin. I watched her jaw lock and release while she kept touching her nose and wiping underneath it. She had a coke habit, and I already knew because I had seen her do it before. That wasn’t my thing, but I didn’t judge her for it. All I could think was that if I ever got her, I would get her off that shit.

“You getting bold now with trying to get up on me,” she said, looking at me.

“I’ve always been bold, ma chérie.”

She rolled her eyes. “Don’t start that French shit with me.”

“You like it.”

“I don’t.”

“You do. You just don’t like me.”

She watched me. “I don’t like niggas that think they can buy everything.”

“I don’t buy women.”

“There goes that rich boy ego.”

“It’s not rich ego if it’s true.”

She let out a short laugh, and something changed between us after that. The music was loud, people moved around us, and bottles kept coming and going, but me and her stayed focused on each other. We went back and forth until I eventually pulled her onto my lap, and she sat there pretending she didn’t want to. She acted like nothing about me impressed her, but she stayed.

I leaned closer to her ear. “Can I take you out of here?”

She raised a brow. “Where?”

“I’m taking you on a date.”

She laughed. “In Vegas? At this time?”

“Yeah. I can make anything happen.”

She looked at me longer this time. Her eyes were low, and her pupils were wide. She was high and drunk, but she was aware of what was going on around her.

“I’m not one of your girls, Ares. I’m your right-hand man’s little sister.”

“I know. That’s why I’m asking.”

She held my gaze before standing up. “Let’s go.”

My blacked-out Lambo was already outside. She got in when the door was opened for her, and I got in after her before pulling off. I had the music loud and the window cracked while we moved through Vegas.

“You always drive like this?” she asked after I accidentally blew through a red light.

“Only when I got somewhere to be.”

She turned toward me. “You think I’m worth going behind your best friend’s back?”

I looked at her. “Yeah.”

I kept one hand on the wheel while the other rested on her inner thigh, too close to her pussy for there to be any confusion about what I wanted. She didn’t move my hand.

I took her straight to the top of the Cosmopolitan of Las Vegas. I already had a private terrace set up with the Strip laid out beneath us and a table waiting. Azaria walked ahead of me without checking once to see if I was behind her, and I paid attention to that.

Dinner was quick. Wagyu steak, garlic mashed potatoes, and expensive champagne. She barely touched her food.