Mitch shoots a glance at me in the rearview mirror, his eyes lingering a second too long on the plunging neckline of my dress. “You’re sure about this place?”
I lean back, crossing my legs. The leather seat sticks to my skin, slightly uncomfortable yet thrilling. “Drive, Mitch. That’s an order.”
“Your father’s not gonna be happy about you going off to some secret club.”
I roll my eyes, a smirk playing at the corners of my mouth. “Daddy Dearest can go fuck himself. I’m a grown woman, Mitch. I can do whatever the hell I want.”
He sighs, his fingers tightening on the steering wheel. “It’s not just about your father, Clara. This club… the Viper’s Nest… it sounds like it’s crawling with a whole lot of rotten fuckers.”
“Take the next left at the junction,” I command.
Without a word, he obeys, easing the car into the turn.
“I’ve never heard of this dump before. And the name? Sounds like a fucking rat hole.”
I laugh, “Please, Mitch. I’m not looking for a knitting club or a fucking Bible study group. I want somewhere I can let loose, have a little fun. And if that fun happens to involve a few orgasms and a couple of hot, sweaty bodies? Even better.”
Mitch’s jaw clenches, his disapproval radiating off him in waves. But he knows better than to argue with me when I’m in this mood.
The city lights flash by outside the window, neon signs and streetlamps blurring together in a kaleidoscope of color. The sun has long since set, the darkness wrapping around us like a velvet cloak.
“Your dad wants you back home, Clara,” Mitch says, his voice low and gruff. “He’s worried about you running around like this.”
I scoff, tossing my hair over my shoulder. “Worried about me? That’s rich. The only thing my father’s worried about is his precious reputation. He doesn’t give a damn about me.”
Mitch opens his mouth to argue, but I cut him off with a sharp look. “Just drive, Mitch. I’m not in the mood for a lecture.”
He presses his lips together, his frustration palpable. But he does as I ask.
I stare out the window, my mind drifting to the night ahead. The clubs my father owns are all the same—boring, stuffy places filled with his lackeys and sycophants. They watch my every move, reporting back to him like the good little soldiers they are.
But the Viper’s Nest? It sounds like fucking trouble, which is exactly what I need.
A place where I can be anonymous, where I can shed the weight of my family name and just be Clara.
A place where I can lose myself in the beat of the music and the heat of a stranger’s touch. Where I can forget, even if just for a few hours, the anger and resentment that constantly simmers beneath my skin.
Mitch pulls up to the curb, the car gliding to a smooth stop. He turns to look at me, his brow furrowed with concern. “I don’t like the idea of leaving you alone here, Clara. At least let me come in with you, keep an eye on things.”
I roll my eyes, fixating on the glowing digits of the car’s clock. “And I want a night to myself. No watchdogs, no babysitters.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Mitch clench his jaw, his frustration clear even in his silence.
“I’ll find my way back home,” I declare, reaching for the door handle and stepping out into the night.
four
Clara
Ican feel Mitch’s eyes boring into the back of my skull as I stride toward the club entrance.
His disapproval is practically burning a hole through my skull. But I don’t give a flying fuck what he thinks.
Since Jake’s death, he’s been acting like he can step into my brother’s shoes, as if he could ever fill that void.
Nobody can fucking replace Jake.
I make a beeline for the club, my heels clicking on the pavement like a fucking metronome. The door looks all sleek and shiny, like it’s trying too hard to be classy. But I know better. I can feel the bass pulsing inside, vibrating up through the soles of my feet. It’s like the heartbeat of some wild animal, just waiting to be unleashed.
