Page 63 of The Striker (Gods of the Game 1)
No one.
I stiffened, my self-consciousness ceding ground to indignation. “Scarlett DuBois.” I tried my best to project confidence. “I’m on the list.”
“I’m sorry, I don’t see your name.” She couldn’t have sounded less sorry if she’d tried.
“You didn’t check!”
“I don’t need to. This is aVIPparty.” She tapped her nails against her clipboard. “I’m afraid your hundred-quid dress and two-year-old bag don’t meet our criteria. Now, if you’ll excuse me…” She turned to greet a trio of newcomers.
The swanlike models brushed past me, all legs and thousand-dollar minis. They provided their names, the hostess checked them off with a smile, and they disappeared up the stairs in a flurry of giggles and clacking heels. None of them spared me a glance.
The hostess’s smile disappeared when she faced me again. “Miss, I’m going to have to ask you to leave. Otherwise, Roscoe will escort you out.”
The security guard next to her glared down at me.
My teeth clenched, but I had no choice other than to turn and exit with as much dignity as I could scrape together.
I’d made enough scenes for today. Besides, what was I going to do? Snatch the clipboard from her and search the list myself? Roscoe would tackle me before I got past the A’s.
Exhaustion burned behind my eyes. I turned the corner and jabbed the button for the lift.
I couldn’t wait to go home. This entire night was a?—
The doors opened with apingand a whiff of familiar aftershave.
“Scarlett?”
There was a treacherous quickening in my chest.
“You made it.” The shadows fell away, revealing the slant of Asher’s cheekbones and chiseled jawline. His gaze trailed the length of my dress and legs. “You look…” A small pause allowed the muffled beats from the lounge to creep between us.Thud. Thud. Thud. “Good.”
A brief sizzle of electricity sang through my arms and legs.
“Thank you.” I forced a smile, my encounter with the hostess too fresh to forget despite the relief of running into Asher. “But apparently not good enough.”
“What do you mean?”
I told him what happened.
Asher’s eyes darkened with each word until they resembled storm clouds on the horizon.
“Come with me.”
He didn’t wait for a response. He placed a hand on the small of my back and guided me firmly toward the lounge’s entrance, where the hostess was chatting with security.
The guard tipped his chin toward us. She turned, her face lighting up at the sight of Asher.
“Mr. Donovan!” She straightened and smoothed a hand over her hair. “How lovely…” Her voice trailed off when she noticed me walking with him.
I wasn’t a petty person (most of the time), but I would be lying if I said her shock didn’t give me immense satisfaction.
“Asher Donovan and Scarlett DuBois,” he said smoothly, his hand still on my back. “My date.”
A second ticked past.
The hostess looked like she’d just swallowed a bucket of live maggots, but she eventually forced a smile and stepped aside.
“Of course.” She unhooked the rope, her shoulders stiff. “Please enjoy the party.”