All I can do is hope that they have it in them to love Liliana Constantine as much as they love Lily Sloane.
Rain hammers the roof of the limo roof as it pulls up outside the nightclub. The ride was short but lonely, and I can’t help but think of how the four of us could have put this spacious interior to good use. There’s always the ride home. A thrill of excitement shoots through me, and I smooth the fabric of my dress over my hips and peer out the window at the crowd gathered outside.
Everyone who’s anyone in the world of media is here tonight, many of them still awaiting entry under the shelter of their umbrellas. I spot Julian standing near the entrance with some of the writers from Genevieve, as well as Handsy Andy, the PR guy. Ugh! Ignoring him, I grin and wave frantically at Julian, but of course he doesn’t see me because of the tinted windows.
Excitement and anticipation swirl in my stomach, and I wish the guys were with me so I wouldn’t feel so self-conscious about stepping out of this limo on my own. Take a deep breath, Lily. They’ll be there when I get inside.
I’ve never been interested in being the center of attention, and in recent years I’ve shied away from any kind of limelight at all, but tonight feels different. I’m proud of what Xander, West, and Zeke are doing. I’m honored to stand by their side and beyond freaking blown away by the fact that I get to go home with all three of them at the end of the night.
The car rolls to a stop, and the door is pulled open a few seconds later. Driving rain lashes my face when I step outside. I was hoping the driver would offer me an umbrella, but I should have thought to bring one for myself like all the people in line did.
The red carpet squelches beneath my heels, and a scowling bouncer steps in front of me as I reach the doors. “It’s a private event, Miss.”
“I know. That’s what I’m here for. I’m on the list, name’s Lily Sloane.” I go to walk past him, but he bars my way.
“You don’t get in without a ticket. I’m sorry.”
“What?” I gape at him, then peer over his shoulder, hoping for a glimpse of one of the guys. Surely they’re here by now.
“You’re blocking the entrance. Please move.”
I blink away the torrent of rainwater that runs into my eyes. “I’m with the owners. West and Ezekiel. Xander? They’re expecting me.”
“I wasn’t told about you, miss.” He shrugs. “Now please move.”
“Please. Just ask inside. They’re expecting me.”
He rolls his eyes like his patience is growing thinner by the second, but guess what, buddy, so is mine. I’m soaked and my hair and makeup are ruined. He roughly grabs hold of my arm and jostles me. “You need to leave.”
“Take your goddamn hands off me,” I snap, wrenching from his grip. “You’d better go get one of your bosses out here right now.”
Another bouncer, burlier than the first, approaches, and I realize we’re creating a scene. The people in the lines, including my would-be colleagues from Genevieve, are murmuring and staring at me like I’m a circus act. “What’s the problem here?” the second bouncer asks.
“She says she’s with Mr. Archer and the owners.”
The burly one looks me over from head to toe and shakes his head. “News to me.”
“Are you freaking kidding me?” I shout. “Just go get one of them. If they find out you left me to stand out here in the goddamn rain, heads will roll.”
They exchange a wary look, and the original bouncer must think there’s some truth to my words because he goes inside the club. I turn back to the street to see if the car’s still there so I can take some shelter from the driving rain, but it’s already gone. Folding my arms over my chest, I shiver and wait. A few seconds later, my heart soars when I see Zeke step outside with the bouncer by his side.
“She says she’s with you, Boss.” The one next to Zeke points at me.
The other bouncer stops me when I bound forward, yelling Zeke’s name.
He studies me but shows no sign of recognition. His face is completely blank, like he’s faced with a stranger. Then he shakes his head. “Nope. Not with me.”
Is this some kind of joke? I frown at him. “Zeke?”
He takes a step closer. I smell his distinctive cologne, the one I find so comforting when he has his giant arms wrapped around me. Instinctively, I edge forward, seeking his reassurance and warmth. My teeth are chattering from being cold and soaked to the bone. But his face twists in an angry scowl when he says, “Go home. You don’t belong here.”