Persistent millionaire, I see.“You can’t.” I smile.
Is Stetson devilishly handsome? Yes. Could I imagine him fucking my brains out and me thanking him for it after? Also, yes. But I refuse to indulge even for a second in another rich suitor just because he compliments me.
He lives in Texas—states away from Florida. Maybemy fear comes from worrying that if I have him once, I’ll only want him again and again. Or that he’ll be another disappointment added to the list.
And for the sake of the promises I’ve made to myself, denying him is for the best.
Opening the flap of my purse, I grab a twenty and place it on the bar top for Monty, sending him a wave of gratitude. I stand and finally spin to face Stetson, who’s now standing, or should I say towering over me. I like to consider myself tall. I’m five eight and wear heels on the regular, putting me close to six feet.
But heaven help me, Stetson makes me feel so small. Like I’d fit in the palm of those giant, veiny hands.
“Thank you for the drinks,” I tell him confidently, pushing my shoulders back to appear composed. Inside, I’m tripping over my own heartbeat.
I expected something off-putting or an objection of some sort from him, but all he does is nod before placing a soft kiss on my cheek.
“I’ll see you on board,” he murmurs in my ear before leaving me idle, lost in the confusion of my own actions.
I should have denied the flight.
CHAPTER THREE
cove
“Kindness is the language which the deaf can hear and the blind can see.”
Mark Twain
“Tank,be a doll and don’t let that Jonas Brothers wannabe through these doors tonight. He’s getting much too needy for my liking.”
I hold my clutch to my side and follow Betsy through the glass doors of Venus Vault, our favorite nightclub in Miami. We dressed up to do damage tonight, Betsy serving looks in her hot pink lapel blazer dress, while I settled on a pair of black leather shorts with a satin button-down and heels.
“I thought you and Elliott were just having fun?” I ask above the loud hip-hop music blasting through the speakers. Betsy leads us through a swarm of sweaty bodies, maneuvering through the back of the room toward the underground VIP entrance.
“We were,” she explains as we’re halted to a stop from a brawl breaking out in front of us. “Disgusting humans,” she mumbles at the two men, and I laugh because that’s Betsy, alright. She takes no shit and has zero tolerance for childish behavior.
That makes two of us. And that’s exactly why we’re best friends.
“Continue,” I tell her as we head toward Chase, the bouncer guarding the vault doors.
“Passcode, Ms. Darling. Ms. Davenport.” Chase nods, waiting for our response.
“Midnight,” we repeat together, and Chase unclips the rope for us to enter. He escorts us inside, and I instantly feel the stress of this past week leave my body the moment the VIP area comes into view.
Venus Vault is one of the most prestigious underground nightclubs in Miami. The upper nightclub acts as a buffer for the locals, but anybody who is anybody in the city of Miami has private access to Venus Vault. Think underground speakeasy meets drinking and mingling with the elite.
Upon entering, soundproof black velvet walls guide down a curved stairwell that leads to the bar and lounge area. The midnight-black aesthetic carries throughout the vault, with accents of silver and gold littered tastefully.
“Yes, we were having fun,” Betsy says, tossing her bright red hair over her shoulder. “Until he invited me to meet his parents for the holidays. It’s February, Cove. Thanksgiving is nine months away.”
“Ah,” I quip. “So, Elliott was making plans.”
“My point exactly. Which means we’re no longerjusthaving fun; therefore, our time together is now over. No part of me likes his brain enough to entertain that.”
“You’re a tough babe to settle with, Betsy Darling.”
“Until I find Mr. Right, yes. I just don’t have the time or energy to invest in someone without common sense. I have needs, and it doesn’t take more than a quick fuck to tell if those needs can be met. And I don’t mean just sexually. I mean, why is it so difficult to meet men who challenge us? It’s like the moment he started talking, I knew we would share nothing more than orgasms. We’re successful women. Surely there are successful men in the world, right?”
Stetson Cole should not be the first man to pop into my head.
