“I’m not…” she says in a fluster before relenting. “Okay.”
“Myles knows to meet us inside?”
She nods. “He texted to say he’s waiting for us at the bar. He told me to tell you thanks for the ‘royal treatment’”
I chuckle. “See, he’s already on our side.”
“Why does it sound like we’re going to war?”
Because we’re risking everything, I want to say. “He’s rooting for us? Does that sound better?”
“Much.”
We walk up to the bouncer and receive the usual dirty looks from a few people waiting in line. I give him our name, and he nods quickly, ushering us inside.
Although I’ve been inside La Notte, it looks completely different now. It’s like stepping into a fancy Italian villa under the night sky. Thousands of twinkling lights mimic stars, while stately marble columns and plush velvet seating create a sense of luxury without feeling like you’re in a theme park.
“Okay, this is pretty cool,” Pres admits, leaning in so I can hear her. She practically has to shout in my ear, and because of the crowd we’re fighting to get to the bar, her body is pressed right up against mine. “Is this what your nightclub is like?”
“No,” I answer, trying to keep my gaze steadily on her face and not the plunging V-neck of her dress. When she walked outof her room in this short satin number, I nearly died. I swear she’s trying to torture me, one dress at a time. “We’re very exclusive.”
“You mean snobby.”
I laugh. “Yeah. It’s incredibly hard to get through our doors and even harder to get one of our VIP rooms.”
“There are multiple?”
“We have a large VIP area that overlooks the main dance floor, but we also have about eight smaller rooms. They’re fully staffed and completely private. Hendrix didn’t tell you about it?”
She makes a face. “I know you didn’t grow up with siblings, Beck, but what the hell do you think we talk about?”
I chuckle, wrapping a protective hand around her waist as I steer us the rest of the way toward the bar. “Fair enough. We should take a trip to Nashville sometime, then. I can give you a private tour.”
I don’t mean it to sound sexual, but that’s the way it comes off. Luckily, she doesn’t have any time to react because, out of the corner of my eye, I catch Myles, or at least I think that’s him sitting by the bar, laughing it up with a tall Black guy in a fitted suit Jonas would die for. Aside from a few pics, I haven’t seen the guy since he was eleven.
He looks up, does a double take, and then his face lights up. He waves. He says something to the guy next to him before walking away.
Jesus, it is him.
He looks so damn grown-up.
Will he even remember me? He seemed to when we talked on the phone that one time, but he could have just been trying to be polite.
We push through the rest of the crowd, and before we even reach the bar, Myles is already off his stool, pulling me into a big bear hug. “Hollis!”
“Jesus, Myles.” Pres laughs. “Don’t break him.”
“God, he just might.” I laugh, pulling back to get a good look at him.
His features have always been similar enough to the rest of the Creeds that no one really questioned his parentage, but if you look closely, you can see the slight differences. His hair is lighter than the others, a pale blond, and his eyes are a striking arctic blue.
That and—“You’re huge. Are you trying out for WWE or something?” While he’s just as tall as Hendrix, he’s more filled out. God, he really does look like the guy from that Viking movie.
I really wish I could remember his damn name…
“Jealous?” He grins.
“Kind of, yeah,” I admit. “I thought I was pretty fit until just a moment ago.”
