Page 19 of Prince Of Greed
Jordan’s brows raised as I passed them, my jaw slack from their exchange.
Nice,Jordan mouthed their approval and turned back to the ass that had been grinding against them.
I followed the gentle pull on my hand up to the bar, not willing to let go for more than the sake of not getting lost in the sea of people. If he let go, I would surely crumble in a puddle of sweat and the butterflies in my stomach. That was all I was made of after that dance.
When we reached the front of the line, the bartender’s eyes shot to my companion and down to me. Their lips twitched before giving us a subtle nod. They poured an entire tray of shots then slid it down. To my shock, the blond man picked up the tray and held it above his head.
We made our way back to what seemed to be the center of the dance floor, and Rhomi hooted and hooked her arm with mine. The music was still too loud, so she gave me a wink and took one of the offerings. We took our shots together and set the glasses on the tray upside down. Tiffany held up two fingers after taking one of the shots herself and handed another to the man she had been entangled with.
Two. We had two of our three drinks for the night—a reminder that we were here to have fun and not lose the natural high of being young and unhindered. I eyed the remaining shots on the tray then the man holding it. He offered it to me again and I shook my head, wanting to wait and enjoy a mixed drink after dancing until my feet wanted to fall off.
He tilted his head, an obvious look of confusion knitting his brow. I shrugged and declined again. He took one more then passed it to the man with an arm snaked around Tiffany.
Rhomi pulled at my arm to bring my ear down to her mouth just as a song ended. “Let’s go to the bathroom.”
I nodded as the music started up again. Rhomi motioned to our dance partners that we would be back in a moment. Thankfully, the ache I’d held in my gut subsided the moment she and I practically fell into the bathroom. The door swung closed behind us and my eyes had to adjust to the bright-white lights.
“Oh my God, he is so hot, Evie!” Rhomi threw over her shoulder as she closed a heavy stall door.
I stepped up to the black porcelain sink and took a paper towel from the dispenser. I wet it to pat across my neck and over my chest where my heart was still pounding wildly.
Away from the crowd and constant hammering against my senses, I was starting to feel the ache of my feet from my shoes. The black and white tile would have been cool on the soles, but I knew the moment I took my heels off, that would be it. I wouldn’t put them back on, even for the gorgeous man who was so much taller than me.
“They’re all way too sexy. What is this place? A modeling agency rec room?” I didn’t need a real answer.
An exclusive club in L.A. would, of course, be flooded with the most attractive and powerful people. Rhomi opened up the stall and came to stand next to me at the sink. She washed her hands and touched up her makeup, not one bit mussed from the heat or sweat.
“I told you this place was a whole experience. Are you having fun?” She looked at me through the mirror.
“Yeah.” I smiled, my cheeks on fire. “I’ve been to plenty of dance clubs, but there is something different about this one.”
“Something? Or someone?” she teased, knocking my arm with her elbow.
“He is something.”
I was still holding on to that melted-away feeling. The stress of my day was long gone.
“Well, remember the rule. We came together; we leave together,” she said, drying her hands with a new towel.
“Then I better make the best of the next few hours.” I laughed and opened the door to the bathroom for her.
I followed her out but was stopped in my tracks by a face that sent ice plunging into my stomach.
Stolas.
11
STOLAS
Why is she here?
How is she here?
Unlike our run-in at the coffee shop, I didn’t plan for this to happen. I’d had half a bottle of whiskey with Orobas in one of the VIP lounges upstairs while humans fawned at our feet. I’d come down to the main floor to get some space from the crowd that had been forming around my brother’s influence.
The entirety of the evening I had been picturing Evie’s face. Maybe I was hallucinating the drunken mirage of my obsession standing in Sitri’s club.
But when she looked around, also questioning the validity of my presence, I knew she was real. She walked with determination to stand in front of me, close enough that I could reach out and touch her—or pin her to the wall next to us and have her gasping.