Fucking brilliant, Stevie.
Not even thirty seconds later, those three gray dots dance along my phone screen as Zanders types his reply.
His message in response is not “hey.” It’s not “how are you?” It’s nothing fluffy or soft, testing out the situation. No, because it’s Zanders. The guy drips arrogance. He knows what he wants, and he always seems to get it.
Case in point, me only lasting two weeks before giving in to him.
The message he sends in reply? An address. Simply an address. Nothing less, nothing more. And for some reason, I find that really fucking hot. He’s not playing games. He knows why I’m reaching out.
My Uber driver pulls up to a club on 18th street in downtown DC. Following Zanders’ instructions, I head to the third floor, but when I get there, a bouncer stops me, barricading the entrance.
“Name?”
“Oh.” I look over my shoulder at the line beginning to form behind me, wanting to enter the dark club in front of me. “I must be in the wrong spot.” Reading the message from Zanders, I ask the bouncer, “Is this 18th Street Lounge?”
“Name?” he repeats.
“Uh, Stevie?”
He scans the clipboard in front of him, his eyes dragging down the names before moving out of the way and directing me inside. “EZ’s in the back corner.”
My head is on a swivel as I enter the dark club, looking around. This place is packed, even for a Saturday night, and it’s hard to see through the crowded space. The music is so loud and overbearing that I’m about two seconds away from turning around and going right back to my hotel.
“You following me?” someone yells over the music.
Chasing the sound, my eyes wander to the corner of the club to what looks like a VIP area. It’s sectioned off from the rest of the room with red velvet ropes, and the reserved space is littered with beautiful women.
Really, they’re stunning. Tall, thin, all different beautiful skin tones and hair colors.
What the hell am I doing here?
“Stevie.” Zanders stands from the couch, finally coming into view. “Hey.”
I walk towards him as he removes multiple grabby hands from his body before meeting me partway. He nods towards the security guard in charge of the velvet rope, ushering him to move it and let me inside.
“Come here,” Zanders says, loud enough for me to hear over the crowd as he grabs my hand and guides me to follow behind. His fingers lace between mine as a pulse of electricity flows up my arm.
He leads us to the very back of the dark VIP section, earning some privacy and fewer vibrations from the pounding music coming through the speakers.
“Is anyone else from the team here?” I nervously ask.
“No, just me.”
Looking around the room to be sure, I nod, thankful he had the foresight not to invite me to a place that would be packed with my clients. This thing I’m about to do is bad enough. I don’t need everyone on the airplane to know about it. Especially his teammates. I hear the way they talk about their hookups, and even though I’m about to be one, I’d rather no one else know.
“Ready to do this?” I look at him with pleading eyes, needing to get this started before I chicken out or come to my senses.
“Whoa there. Eager, are we?” Zanders laughs. “At least buy me dinner first, sweetheart. I’ve never felt so used.”
His humor breaks my nervous tension as a small laugh escapes me. That is until I look behind him at the countless model-esque women who are currently giving me the death glare for taking away their jersey for the night.
“You have quite the room full of options.”
He doesn’t turn around. Instead, he keeps his focus on me. “I always have options.”
That puts a bitter taste in my mouth as I look anywhere other than at him. Especially since less than an hour ago, I heard from the guy who always reminded me that’s all I ever was—an option.
“But I’m glad my first choice showed up.”
Zanders’ hazel eyes are soft yet full of fire as he looks down at me, causing some of the nerves to disappear. His words fill me with the bit of that confidence I need to do this tonight.
“What made you change your mind?” he asks, softly brushing my curls away from my face with the edge of his thumb.
“Honestly?”
“Always.”
“My vibrator died, and I didn’t pack my charger with me.”
Zanders studies me for a moment, questioning my authenticity before his deep laugh leaves his chest and fills my ears. “You really know how to keep a man’s ego in check, Stevie girl.”