“Dance and drink. Two things I can’t do here when I’m on the clock.” He gives someone a quick wave as we pass and I’m instantly on edge. I need to work on my jealousy, because what I did at the tailor’s was an expensive mistake, as well as a personal embarrassment.
It was nice to wake up to Dalton pulling me close in his sleep.
My father’s face, pale as the death about to claim him, flashes through my mind, and I squeeze Dalton’s hand, pulling him to the bar.
“Then let’s start already.”
I need a drink. Now. Before I even reach the others.
I place a note on the counter, and moments later, we’re sharing a collection of shots. They’re too sweet, and burn my throat, but my body feels rigid, as if every muscle is slowly turning to stone, and I need the magical properties of C2H5OH.
“I rarely got to work on the top floor,” Dalton says between one shot and another as music pulses around us. “Pretty sure it’s ‘cause I’m gay. They didn’t want me distracted.” He laughs, but my jealousy is as neon green as my last shot.
“I don’t believe there are no gay people actually working there,” I tell him and pour the final shot down my gullet.
There. Now I need for it to work, and fast.
Dalton winks at me. “Yeah, well, they don’t have faces like your fiancé.”
I should roll my eyes, but it’s true. I’ve bagged myself a very handsome man.
“I’ll try not to break any more bones,” I mutter, and when he finishes his last drink too, I nod toward the staircase. The bar is relatively quiet, as far as nightlife spots go, but despite the excellent soundproofing, I sense the rhythm of the music played in the upper floors with my feet.
“Just put a ring on my finger already!” Dalton laughs and puts his arm over my shoulders. Despite going at it like bunnies at home, I still feel tense whenever he touches me in public. The alcohol is helpingthough, and I briefly press my chest to his, escaping before he can kiss me.
I rather like teasing him and seeing that predatory glint in eyes that are usually so kind. I can’t fathom him being capable of murdering his opponents with his bare hands, and as that thought enters my head, I need to shake off the instant suspicions that come to me so naturally. I’ve been fooled once before, and I intend to leave my guard up even now, no matter how good Dalton’s presence feels.
We gravitate upstairs, no longer able to communicate when the loud electronic music descends on us in the second floor. In comparison to the easy-going atmosphere of the bar, this place feels like hell, but I’m a patient man and make my way through sweaty bodies jumping and wiggling like maggots consuming a neon-hued corpse.
It’s impossible for Dalton to hold his arm over me in this crowd, but his hand on mine is a steel grip that won’t let go, no matter the waves of people bouncing around us. Every time I glance at him, he’s scanning our surroundings as if he’s my on-duty bodyguard ready to intervene.
I’m trained in martial arts, used to danger, but the crowd is dense and we’re forced to push against people to pass, so I don’t notice when a man leans in to shout in my ear.
“Mr. Van d—”
Dalton pushes him away with a curt ‘fuck off’ before I get a chance to.
I can take care of myself, but a shiver of excitement still bubbles up inside me. He’s so fucking hot. I wish I could push him against the nearest wall and choke on his cock while all those people dance around us, unaware.
That is only ever going to happen in my head, and when we finally reach the elevator meant for VIP guests, I grin at him and lean in, so he can hear me. “I knew you’re a great bouncer, but a bodyguard? Maybe you should get a raise?”
“I won’t be complaining if you bring it up with Remo.” He laughs and gives me a little kiss, but we end up parting when the elevator opens and spits out a crowd of partygoers.
As soon as we’re inside and the door closes, he pushes me against the wall for a much more intense kiss. There’s cameras here. This footage will surely end up in Remo’s lap. But I can’t help myself. It’s just making out, and he is my fiancé after all. Let them see, for fuck’s sake.
It’s not like it’s so easy to push away this wall of muscle smelling of perfume I composed especially for him. He’s intoxicating, a new kind of drug I have zero resistance to.
I pull in his hips, and he immediately takes over, sliding his tongue deep in my mouth. I can taste the candy he had on the way, so I bring us closer, and—
The elevator pings, and just before the doors open, I push him away, panting.
Dalton grins at me, licking his bottom lip, and it’s impossible to take my eyes off him even when I start moving. But when I almost trip, he grabs my elbow, always on the lookout. Maybe hecouldbecome my bodyguard? Wouldn’t be a bad excuse to always travel with him.
On the top floor people dance and drink like everywhere else, but many more eyes are on us as we pass, and I don’t think it’s because I’m a Van der Horn. How many of the guys here has Dalton slept with? I rather not think about it. I grab his hand, now wishing hedidhave a ring. I should have thought about that. But we won’t linger here, andI pull him toward the VIP lounge and its western-themed bar, which has been reserved for us tonight.
Right off the bat, I spot a group of actors from a popular comedy series at one of the tables, and Dalton’s eyes trail there, but we’re not here to socialize with strangers who happen to have familiar faces. We head past the swing doors, into a cozy space furnished with a lot of wood. I do a double-take when I realize something’s changed since my last visit.
“You got rid of the big booth?” I ask Remo as he approaches us with twin glasses of whisky in hand.
