“He moved to New York a few weeks ago. He’s Sloane’s newest client.” Vivian winced when Sloane jabbed a finger at his chest, her eyes sharp enough to pierce stone. Xavier yawned, seemingly unfazed. “They’re having some growing pains.”
After another terse exchange, Sloane stalked toward the exit. “I’ll be right back,” she said grimly as she passed our table. Xavier followed her, managing to look bored and amused at the same time.
He nodded a greeting at me and winked at Vivian and Alessandra, who watched them leave with a wry smile.
“And then there were three,” she said. “So much for girls’ night.”
“Speaking of which, where’s Isabella?” I asked casually. As fascinating as Sloane’s client problems were, I didn’t care to speculate about what she was doing with—or to—Xavier, though I wouldn’t put it past her to stab him with a stiletto.
“She’s on the second floor.” Vivian took a demure sip of her drink. “This gorgeous guy asked her to dance, and we wanted to give them some alone time, so we didn’t follow her. Wasn’t he beautiful, Ale? He looked a bit like Asher Donovan.”
Alessandra’s frown deepened. “He wasn’t that beautiful…”
Vivian stared at her, hard. That strange silent communication women shared must have happened, because Alessandra’s face soon relaxed. Her eyes darted toward me. “But yes, I suppose he was quite handsome. Isabella certainly thought so.”
My teeth clenched so hard it hurt. “You let her go off with a stranger? When was the last time she checked in? He could be drugging her right now.”
Didn’t they read the news? Crime was up. New date rape drug variants hit the streets every week.
They were Isabella’s friends! They should have been looking out for her, not foisting her off on every Asher Donovan look-alike who passed by.
Donovan wasn’t even that good-looking, for fuck’s sake.
“She’s an adult. She can make her own decisions,” Vivian said calmly. “Isa is smart enough to take care of herself. Besides, the whole point of tonight was to find her a one-night stand.”
“Or more,” Alessandra added.
Vivian’s eyes twinkled. “Or more.”
Neither seemed to grasp the severity of the situation.
Irritation crawled into my chest and fed the restlessness bubbling beneath my skin. “Excuse me.” I stood so abruptly I almost knocked the glasses off a passing bottle server’s tray. “It was lovely seeing you both, but I should take a look around the club. For research.”
“Of course.” Vivian’s smile widened. “Good luck with your article.”
I left them in the lounge, Vivian looking oddly smug while Alessandra simply looked bemused.
I was too impatient to wait for the elevator, so I took the stairs to the second floor. My phone buzzed with a call from Dominic on my way down; I ignored it, though his timing was curious. He never called this late, and he was supposed to be in the office. Dominic rarely paid attention to anything except numbers when he was in work mode.
But all thoughts of why he might be calling me at midnight melted away when I reached my destination. Unlike the spacious VIP lounge, the second floor teemed with drunk twenty-and thirty somethings. Reggaeton blasted through the room, and the air dripped with sex, alcohol, and sweat.
Finding Isabella so soon defied all odds, considering how packed the club was. But I turned my head, and there she was. Even in a crowd of hundreds, she stood out like a sunflower in a field of weeds.
Face flushed, eyes sparkling, cheeks dimpled with an unfettered smile. Her hair tumbled down her back in loose waves, and the urge to wrap my fist around all that raven and violet silk burned through me. One tug and she’d be mine, her mouth ripe for the taking, her neck bared for my teeth and tongue.
I hardened, my mind alive with fantasies it had no business entertaining. I’d locked my less desirable impulses into foolproof boxes over the years, but one glance at her and the bolts disintegrated like parchment in flames.
Isabella’s laugh carried over the music to my ears. She tilted her head up to look at the man in front of her. Brown hair, ill-fitting shirt, the professionally whitened teeth of a politician or car salesman.
Beautiful, my ass. He looked like a fucking douchebag.
My desire morphed into the flinty edge of jealousy. It glinted, one spark away from a fire, when he snaked an arm around her waist and whispered something in her ear.
Isabella must’ve felt the heat of my stare because instead of replying, she turned her head toward me. Our gazes collided, hers bright with surprise, mine undoubtedly dark with emotions I’d rather not examine too closely.
Her smile faded, and I heard the catch of her breath from across the room.
It should’ve been impossible, but I was so attuned to her I could single out her tiniest movement in a club full of people.
Car Salesman said something to her again. She broke our stare, but my feet were already moving, carrying me across the floor and to her side.
“There you are, darling.” I placed a hand on Isabella’s back, right above the asshole’s arm, which was still curled around her waist. My polite smile masked the vicious dose of possessiveness pouring through my blood. “You didn’t tell me you made a new friend.”
The man’s eyes narrowed. He didn’t take his arm off Isabella. “Who the hell are you?”
“Someone who’ll rearrange your already pitiful face if you don’t leave in the next ten seconds,” I said pleasantly. “In case your knockoff Patek Philippe can’t tell the time correctly, that would be right about now.”
Ten seconds was generous. I’d wanted to slam my fist into his jaw the moment I saw him.
Blotches of red formed on his face. “Fuck you. I—”
The man lapsed into silence when my smile sharpened. I didn’t enjoy violence outside the ring, but I would gladly knock his teeth out and feed them to him.
My pulse roared with bloody anticipation.
He must’ve read the intentions scrawled over my face because he quickly dropped his arm, mumbled an excuse, and scurried off.
“What the hell was that?” Isabella demanded. She shrugged off my hand and glared at me. “You scared off my date!”
A muscle ticked in my jaw. “It’s not a date if you didn’t show up with him.”
It occurred to me someone from Valhalla might see us, but my peers didn’t frequent places like this.
Even if they did, they would be in the VIP lounge, not on the general dance floor. But honestly, I was too riled up to give a fuck. The entire managing committee could’ve been standing next to us, and I’d still be focused on Isabella.
She canted her chin up. “It is if I leave with him.”
“If that was all it took to scare him away, he doesn’t deserve you,” I said coolly. “If you’d left with him, you would’ve had to endure two minutes of assuredly unsatisfying fornication on a dirty mattress without a bed frame, so you should thank me. Given how he ran off, I doubt he could find enough rhythm to clap along to a basic nursery song, much less make your night worthwhile.”
Isabella’s jaw unhinged. She stared at me for a long moment before dissolving into laughter.