“I need a drink.” I leave him at the edge of the dance floor and walk to the bar, trying my best to keep my feet steady.
“Vodka cranberry, please,” I ask the barman.
The guy to my left smiles down at me, and I grin wide. “Hi!”
The barman’s eyes move past me, and I spin to see Mase shaking his finger ‘no’ at him.
“Who do you think you are?” I turn back around. “Yes, to the vodka cranberry, thanks,” I say, shaking my head.
Does he think he can tell me what to do? He can’t.
“You can’t!” I mutter when he steps up beside me, and he frowns down at me.
The handsome son of a bitch.
“You and your friend put on quite a show up there,” the guy to my right tells me, drawing my attention to him.
“We did, huh!” I chuckle. “I’m Nina.”
“Nina,” Mason growls at my back.
“Ugh, what? Why are you here? Who phoned you? Was it you?” I evil eye the guy beside me, and he puts his hands up in defence.
“Cause he’s an asshole, he sold my studio, and I’m so mad at him I hate him,” I slur.
He smirks at me. He’s a pretty boy. I give him a wink, but both my eyes squint shut. “I need water,” I announce.
I turn to the bar and find a pint of water already waiting for me.
Mason leans in to speak into my ear. “We’re leaving. Where is your bag?”
“Get off me.” I swat him away. “I’m drunk, not stupid, and I remember everything you know, Mase. Like the nightyousold my studio, then came home and stuck it in my?—”
“Nina—”
“You little prick.” I gulp my water, leaning into the guy beside me who clearly finds this conversation fascinating. “Is isn’t little,” I whisper-shout, then frown as I notice my words slur. “It’s isn’t little.”
He throws his head back, laughing as the glass is taken from me, and I’m thrown over a strong shoulder.
“Oh, how original of you, Mase. You gonna fuck me in your office now?”
“Don’t tempt me.”
I don’t try to fight him as he carries me through the club, but we still manage to draw plenty of attention. Men eye Mason as if to say poor guy, and well, the women? They watch Mason too. I don’t blame them, but as if I’d allow him the ego boost right now.
“Don’t be fooled, girls; he’s completely shit in bed.” I hold up my pinkie, wiggling it at the group of ladies seated near the entrance.
Mason’s hand shifts, gripping me high on my left leg and dangerously close to my underwear.
He squeezes the smooth skin there, making me gasp and jolt in his hold.
He walks us out of the club and across the street to the Bentley. “You can put me down, you know. I won’t run away.”
I slide down his body. Every solid, hard inch of it. It has my body thrumming with want. But not need.
I don’t need this man.
Swallowing hard, I look up into his tired eyes, and I am instantly filled with worry. Has he been sleeping?
