“He’s coming with us?”
“Nah, I’m dropping you off. No drinking and driving.” He does a mock scolding.
“I don’t drink.” Not typically. I tried it once and regretted it the next morning.
Mac puts her arm over my shoulder. “You might tonight. A drink might make you relax.” She’s not wrong.
When we arrive at the club, Mac already has a table reserved for us, and she pours us both a glass of champagne. It’s sweet and not terrible, and it is helping me relax.
“What do you think?” Mac asks from beside me, sipping on her drink, swaying her hips.
“I’ve been to a club before.”
“I know.” She rolls her eyes at me. “But never a part of the crowd. When you enter a club, you’re working.” This is true. Eros and I are likely coming to collect. I have been in this very club before, but I don’t think anyone would recognize me, and Mac isn’t boots on the ground very often. She is best behind a computer. That’s where she’s the most dangerous.
My eyes move across the crowd of people. A few people catch my eye, and I don’t mean because they are attractive. I make a mental note of two; they are both carrying weapons, which has me wondering if they are security for the club meant to blend in or if they somehow made it past security without a pat-down.
“Stop sizing people up.” Mac elbows me in the side. You have to size people up. I’m not a big girl. There is only so much my body is capable of doing. It’s not easy for me to handle a largeman. Your best skill set is being a few steps ahead and never letting them get too close. Brute force will win when no weapons are in play. Not that I don’t have a few on me. “That table is sizing you up.”
“Which?”
“Your two o’clock.” I begin to bounce slightly to feel the rhythm of the music before I slowly turn my head to look. There is a group of men sitting together. They are all in suits, or they had been. The jackets are gone, and their long, buttoned sleeves have been rolled up. They came from work. Only one of them still has a suit jacket on.
He and I lock eyes across the room. “Smile,” I hear Mac say, and I do. His brows lift, and he licks his lips. Gross. I turn my attention back to the dance floor and sip the champagne. The bubbles make me feel lightheaded. I’m not used to feeling this way, and I have to admit, I don’t dislike it.
“Is that a no on him?”
“He has a pixie haircut.” Mac bursts into laughter. “The coloring isn’t natural.” He also doesn’t look like he can fight. Too pretty. I think I prefer a rough-and-clean handsome; a little pretty might not be the worst thing. Paxton flashes through my mind.
“If he heard you say that, it would ruin his month.” Mac takes the now empty glass and sets it on the table. I wanted another. I don’t get a chance to voice that. She’s already got her hand around my wrist and is pulling me toward the dance floor.
It’s been a while since I have danced. I have always enjoyed it. I favored it over gymnastics. I take note that men do turn to watch us walk by. Each time I meet their eyes, their brows always rise before a smirk forms on their mouths.
“Girl.” Mac tugs me into her so we’re close, facing each other. “Keep making eye contact, and they take that as an opening to come talk to you.”
That would have been nice to know before now, but isn’t that what I wanted? To see if I could be desirable?
“Dance with me.” The song changes, and I start to move. The beat is good, letting you really work your body. I allow myself to get lost in the rhythm.
A hand lands firmly on my hip, larger than a female’s. I grab it and turn, giving a hard yank, and quickly side-step and release my hold. The man stumbles forward and falls, bumping into a few people in the process.
Mac has her lips pressed firmly together, fighting laughter.
“He grabbed me.” People shouldn’t randomly touch people without their permission.
“The fuck,” I think I hear the man on the floor say. People keep dancing, ignoring him as he gets himself together, and I realize it’s the suit jacket from earlier. He’s a lot shorter close up. “The hell was that?” he shouts when he finally gets to his feet, taking a step toward me. “You didn’t have to be a cunt about it.” I match his step forward. Yes, there are times to keep space, but there are also times to assert yourself. The club is too crowded for him to get too out of line.
“It’s best if you go back to your table,” I tell him.
“The fuck is wrong with you?” Depends on who you ask. A hand comes down on his shoulder, making him cringe. He tries to dip out of the hold, but he can’t shake it.
All the air is strangled from my lungs when I see who it is. I thought it was going to be club security of some type, but it’s not. It’shim.
Chapter Five
PAXTON
This was very unexpected. At least not this soon. Part of my fascination and obsession with Naomi is that while I might be able to predict a direction or even nudge one along when it comes to her, once she gets there, she can be Pandora’s box.
