He flashes those blinding veneers and grabs my hand again, leading me toward a staircase at the back of the lounge.
“Are we allowed to be up here?” I ask as we climb the winding steps.
“There are perks to being VIP,” he assures, but I think what he really means is that there are perks to being rich. Christian can buy his way out of anything, I’m sure.
At the top of the staircase, we push through an exit door. Warm air hits my face as I step out onto the roof of the club, and my eyes widen at the view. You can see everything from up here. The boulevard. The beach. The ocean. I don’t want to admit it, but it’s an incredible sight.
Christian gives me a knowing grin. “Pretty, right?”
“Yeah, it’s...gorgeous, actually.” I narrow my eyes at him. “Do you take all your women up here or something?”
He snorts. “Only the ones who play hard to get.”
“Christian, I’m not—”
“The guys and I are taking the party back to my place in a few,” he says, cutting me off. “Want to come? Totally no pressure.”
I study him. There’s something seriously off about his laid-back, nice guy act, and I’m not sure if he thinks he’s being convincing or not. “I should find my friends.”
He gives me the strangest look. Amusement mixed with something else. Something I can’t quite put my finger on. He shrugs. “How do you know they haven’t left already?”
I frown at him. “Because they wouldn’t do that.”
“You must have some decent friends then,” he says, and he doesn’t look happy about it.
“Yeah. I do.”
“So, what’s the deal with you and Blair? I’ve been meaning to ask.”
“What do you mean?” I ask slowly.
“You’re living at his house, aren’t you?”
I shrug. “We’re friends.”
“Friends,” he repeats, then snickers like the idea’s ridiculous. “I wasn’t aware Blair had any, especially ones as gorgeous as you.”
“Yeah, well,” I mutter, shifting on my tired feet. “He’s just lucky, I guess.”
He laughs at that, taking a step closer. “You’re refreshing,” he says. “You know that?”
Why did I come up here with him?
I clear my throat and level him with a serious look. “I really need my job, Christian.”
A smile plays at his mouth. “I didn’t say anything about your job, Daisy.”
I eye him warily, trying to figure out what his angle is, and when he doesn’t say anything further, I take it as my cue to leave. “Thanks for taking me up here, but I really have to go.”
He takes another step toward me. “A kiss for the road, then?”
“Christian,” I warn.
“Come on. It’s just a kiss.”
It’s just a kiss,says a voice in my head.You’ve done worse to fit in.Just kiss him and he’ll leave you alone.
It’s shameful to admit, but I’ve done it before. Did things with guys because, in all honesty, it was easier than saying no. It was easier than dealing with their shredded egos and their attempts at persuasion, and then, inevitably, their desperate appeal for revenge. Women may be calculating and manipulative when it comes to vengeance, but men are the opposite. Their lack of calculation is almostmoredamaging because they just blurt out their feelings like children throwing tantrums—she’s a slut tease whore bitch prude.And people will listen. Friends. Strangers. Acquaintances.
