I’m getting that drink.
The staircase from VIP shakes under my heels, each thud of bass vibrating through the metal railing like the whole club is breathing against my skin.
By the time I hit the bottom, the music is punching through my ribs—deep bass, sticky air, red lights rolling across the packed crowd.
I weave toward the long main bar, already tasting victory.
The second I plant my elbow on the counter and catch the bartender’s eye, a group of girls appears. Five of them.
They flank me on both sides, eyes bright, drinks half-finished, vibrating with the same look.
“Were you just in VIP?” one of them grabs my arm, excited.
“Uh… yeah.” I blink.
They erupt.
“I told you she came from upstairs!”
“They’re not letting more women up,” another slurs, sucking on a straw. “All the girls who got in earlier lucked out.”
Another rolls her eyes dramatically. “I’d let Mercer eat me alive right here. I just know that man fucks mean.”
Mercer? Oh, right. The goalie. The huge, tattooed, silent one. I haven’t even seen him yet besides on the ice.
I struggle to remember his first name. Something with a Z.
All five swivel toward me like synchronized birds, eyes wide, hungry for information.
“What are they like?”
“Is Mercer single?”
“Did you see Tanner?”
“Sorry to disappoint,” I say, “but I’m not their handler.”
Then one of them gasps, hand flying to her chest. “Oh my God, do not freak out.”
The hairs on the back of my neck rise, and I already know who the girls are looking at.
“The Captain’s headed this way,” one squeals, fixing her hair.
I feel him. The air tightens. The noise dims. Goosebumps crawl along my skin. There’s a certain gravity only one man in this building carries—and it’s cutting through the crowd straight toward me.
When I finally look, Dominic isn’t heading for the bar.
He’s coming for me.
The girls around me start fixing their hair, standing taller.
Dom closes the distance in three long strides.
The girls straighten like synchronized soldiers, chests out, lips pouted, ready to be chosen.
“Captain…” one purrs, leaning forward. “Coming for a drink?”
His hand wraps around my waist, pulling me into the hard line of his body. My heart tries to beat out of my chest.
