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Chapter Three
Hunter
“So, do you like it?”
“What?” I peered up, distracted from the noise of the booming bass and the flashing neon lights in the nightclub.
“My dress. I’m cute in it, right?” The slender brunette with the fake tits held her arms like a ballerina as she twirled in a sexy little spin.
“Sure, that’s a great dress.” I shot the girl a half-smile that was even less heartfelt than it probably appeared.
I had only met her this evening in a West London nightclub where I was celebrating with my team from work. Somehow, the faux-ballerina and her girlfriends had turned into our groupies for the night. One glance at the bottles of Cristal in the ice buckets on the table and they knew they’d found the evening’s mother lode.
London had been my home for the past two years, the European base for Flexecutive, the business I co-owned with my best friend, Matt Derby. I had drawn the short straw. Matt got to stay back in New York, and although we were supposed to swap continents on an annual basis, Matt was inclined to ruffle European feathers. He was mouthy and brash which didn’t go across well in our line of business. Flexecutive brokered fractional ownership of private jets, superyachts and ultra-exclusive holiday resorts. The people we dealt with wanted to be treated like royalty. In fact, some of them were.
I glanced at my watch. It was already past two in the morning and I was ready to cut out of there. I gave a nod to the team to let them know I was moving on but as I stood, the ballerina twirled back into my space.
“We’re heading to an after-party if you and your friend are interested in joining us,” she said, lifting her tits towards me like she was offering a free tasting.
She didn’t interest me. All the girls were the same. They got points for beauty, but the scales dropped when it came to personality. The packaging was great, but there was no hook. Maybe I was tired. Or bored. Or I needed to get back to the US for that break I was due.
“I’m sure these guys would love to go to your party. Enjoy your night,” I said, wondering if I was starting to sound like Matt.
“Can I get you another drink, Mr. Stratten?” A sexy British accent rang in my ears.
To my side was the hostess who’d been serving us all evening. How she kept up the sweet smile and the twinkle in her eye through a long night, I’ll never know, but I’d already added a fat tip for her to our tab.
“Thanks, but I’m leaving,” I told her.
“So soon? The sun hasn’t risen yet.”
I tapped my forefinger on the table, considering her. She’d flirted and teased all night and I know it wasn’t because she was a great actress. Her smiles were genuine. She’d come home with me if I asked her, and I’d only have to say a word to the manager, and he’d give her the rest of the night off. We could leave together immediately. It was tempting, but I knew what was driving it.
She reminded me of Saylor, and if I took her home for sex I’d be pretending she was Saylor, and that right there was six ways of fucked up.
“Let’s save it for another night,” I said.
The doorman had a cab for me in seconds and Saylor stayed on my mind for the entire trip to my Knightsbridge apartment.
I couldn’t stop thinking about Saylor now that the waitress had pulled her to the forefront of my mind. Saylor was getting married in a few weeks and any chance I’d ever had to rope her in for a date was long gone.
Who was I kidding? Matt would have killed me if I’d tried to date Saylor. She’s his precious little sister so I kept my hands off her only to leave the path clear for my asshole cousin, Rex, to make a move on her instead. He’d turned up at a birthday party I’d had a few years back and somehow managed to charm her.
Now they were getting married.
Was I bitter?
No, I was a masochist. I was going to attend the wedding and much as I’d love to be the one to stand up when the celebrant dropped the “If any man or any woman can show just cause, why they may not lawfully be joined together, let him or her speak, or else hereafter forever hold his or her peace” line, to inform the congregation that Rex was a douche, I wouldn’t do that to Saylor.
I’d just entered my apartment when my phone buzzed in my pocket. It was probably the guys at the club calling to give me a hard time for ducking out while the party was still going. I tossed the phone on to the counter, prepared to ignore it until I noticed the caller was Matt.
“Matt.”
“Hunter. What are you doing awake at two-thirty?”
“Talking to my asshole business partner on the phone.”
“No, seriously, is she hot?”
