“Oh, I’m well aware. We all know you get the princess treatment around here,” she replies with a wave of her hand,her tone dripping with sarcasm. “That VIP area was supposed to be reserved for The Songbirds, and instead, they’re over there slumming it with the regular folks because the Cunninghams dropped by unannounced.”
I don’t get a chance to tell her their music is shit anyway because Vika is rolling her eyes, eager to shut down this argument between me and this pinup model wannabe.
“You’re both crass, and hardly anyone here is considered regular folks.” Vika air quotes the word regular. “Except maybe Joy Smith here,” she adds, giving the nun girl a pointed look. “I suppose there are a few regular folks lurking around here.”
Isn’t that the truth? This club is renowned for its exclusivity, with high cover charges and an elite clientele that keeps most people out. Which is why the nun girl is so out of place.
Bored with the conversation, Vika jabs a finger toward Jeremiah and the show he’s putting on. “Are you seriously going to allow this humiliation that your betrothed is displaying to continue?”
Aww, the cockroach is defending my honor.
“He’s not my betrothed, Amelia,” I shoot back, bristling with irritation. “For fuck’s sake, we’re not in fifteen hundred England.” But she’s right. It’s time to intervene and play the role he likes. “Excuse me, regular Joy. I need to go remind my boyfriend that I exist.”
Sighing heavily, I grab a bottle of tequila from the bar on my way toward the VIP area, batting my lashes flirtatiously at Adam. He rakes his gaze down the front of my fitted dress, eyes lingering a moment longer than necessary on the swell of my breasts that nearly spill out of the material.
Not yours, Mr. Cunningham. These belong to your brother now.
He had his chance two years ago and let it slip away, yet the desire in his gaze tells me he still feels the pull. I can sensethe tension simmering whenever I’m in the same room. There’s obvious regret in his decision. Jeremiah picks up on it too and takes every opportunity to remind Adam of my loyalties. It’s the only thing he has over his brother.
Me.
I lean forward, allowing Adam a better view as I gently take his glass and fill it with the tequila. Tonight, I chose a sleek black dress that’s low-cut, its fabric hugging my curves, and dipping just low enough to reveal a subtle hint of my stomach. I notice him tense slightly, his breath catching, as our eyes lock. Jeremiah’s gaze bores into me. I dart my eyes over to him in time to see a smile tugging the corners of his lips. He likes that his brother wants me. The barmaid is still sitting on his lap with her back to me, giggling, when he whispers something in her ear.
Stepping away from Adam, I place myself firmly between Jeremiah’s feet, the club lights dancing around us with the soft pulse of the music. The barmaid remains focused on her task of seducing my man, unaware of my presence.
“Can I get you a drink?” I purr seductively, a mischievous grin spreading across my face as I reach for her ponytail. I twist the strands around my fist with a swift motion, and she lets out a startled squeal. Seizing the opportunity, I tug her head back, lifting the tequila bottle to her parted lips. The golden liquid rushes forth, overflowing and streaming down her body like a cascading waterfall. She coughs and sputters in surprise, her eyes wide with shock, but I don’t stop.
Jeremiah, ever the protector of his attire, shoves her off his lap, ensuring that none of the liquor splatters on him. At last, I release her, allowing her to gasp for breath.
“Why would you do that?” she has the audacity to ask.
I curl my lip up and snap, “You were in my seat, bitch.”
Jeremiah’s hands grip my hips and he pulls my ass into his lap, his lips going straight to my neck. “Such a feisty, jealous woman.” His cock grows thick beneath me.
“Only when it’s you.” I rub a hand down his thigh and make eye contact with Adam, a quick surge of heat pulsing through me. I thrive on the excitement of playing with fire, even when I know the risks involved. In moments like these, I can’t help but surrender to the allure. After all, there’s something irresistibly captivating about brothers that draws me in.
Management only takes five minutes to learn what happened with the barmaid before complimentary bottles are sent to our section. A new barmaid delivers the apology, and when she places a familiar bottle on the table, my heart almost leaps from my chest and flops on the table like a dying fish.
“Management sends their regards and apologizes for the upset. Please be the first to try our new signature drink. Rainbow Vodka.”
The twisting in my gut has bile creeping up my throat.
“What did you say?” I find myself asking. Knowing I must have misheard her.
“Rainbow Vodka. It comes from Russia.” She beams and my heart stills.
No, it can’t be…can it?
Not just any vodka. The twins’ vodka.
My skin burns with the memory of a short time when I was truly happy. It was fleeting but I hold onto the nights we spent together and lose myself to the memory whenever living here becomes unbearable.
That girl no longer exists. She’s a ghost. She ran.
I’m Ally now.
My throat tightens, and tears well up in my eyes. It’s an irrational reaction, but I can’t seem to calm my mind or body.
