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8
Cece
After thanking Brady, one of my bartenders, for going over how things are going on the second-floor bar, I make my way back toward my office. I watched Maddox walk back to his friends, who I know. I’ve never met Adam Coleman, but who doesn’t know him? And the King of Hearts has been at Luxe more than the rest of Maddox’s band. Getting into my office, I shut the door and lean against it, finally letting the smile hit my lips. Uncontrollably, I start giggling to myself.
“What happened?”
Rolling my eyes, I head over to my desk, shaking my head. “Just the King of Bad being his usual self.”
“And you … liked it?”
I lift my shoulders, gazing at the long window that looks down at the dance floor below. “It was … amusing. I almost believed him when he apologized.”
Stephanie stays seated on the long, leather couch, returning her attention to her phone. I made sure I kept attention to detail to the office as much as I did when I designed the aesthetics of the club. I don’t have strobe lights or anything like that in the office, but there’s a subtle glow from the spotlights implanted in the ceiling. The light accentuates the wall treatments of sandy brown chevron wood paneling. It’s an office, but I didn’t want just a window with white-painted walls. Adjacent to the far wall is a long, mahogany desk, with the latest figures from not only last week, but this weekend’s forecast.
Leaning against the desk, I grab the paperwork, but my mind is still on the encounter. Do I believe that Maddox was honestly trying to apologize? Kind of. However, that doesn’t mean he probably wasn’t working toward his own plans either, which was evident as his friends laughed when I rejected him.
Maddox Barkley is known as the King of Bad for a reason. He can get any girl he wants—and usually does. Would I be opposed to dating him if it was ever something real? No, but that’s just it, I know this isn’t him trying to ask me out for real. It’s a game to him. Still, I can’t stop smirking, knowing he’s now gone out of his way to get to me only to come up short.
“Okay, what is going on with you?” Stephanie speaks up, breaking through my thoughts.
“What?”
“You’re still smiling.”
I giggle, lifting my shoulders. “I mean, of course, it’s all a game to him. That doesn’t mean it’s not amusing that he can’t have me.”
She frowns, rolling her eyes. “At least you got an A-lister to hit on you. Stupid Bradley and his entourage never showed up.”
My phone chimes, and I pull it out to see Winston’s name on the screen. “Well, he’s not a movie star, but maybe Winston might be up your alley. He just showed up.” Her eyebrows lift in intrigue. “Come on.”
Making our way down to the first floor, I’m scanning the mass of bodies for Winston. Looking for someone who’s dressed in some expensive button-up or maybe a designer shirt, a few people fit that description, but I don’t see him anywhere. I inspect a few small crowds, thinking he possibly showed up with an entourage. I still don’t know him that well, but maybe he likes to go out with a group of friends and party the night away. After looking through the small gathering of guys at both ends of the bar, he’s nowhere to be found.
“Where is he?” Stephanie asks.
“I don’t know.” I pull out my phone again; I still only have the one text message from him that he’s here, but nothing else. I know we’re busy, but I should be able to find him somewhere.
That’s when I’m caught entirely by surprise. To say he’s dressed down would be an understatement. He’s in jeans, shoes that look like blue Converse, with a nondescript black T-shirt and light gray hoodie hanging off of his shoulders. His hair is still combed the way it was this afternoon, but he’s wearing circular glasses now. He’s … completely average looking. I know that sounds horrible, but that’s the only way I can describe him. Especially after seeing him dressed to the nines earlier today in a three-thousand-dollar Gucci suit.
Stephanie must notice my line of vision because she stops next to me. “Wait. No way. Is that him?”
“Uh … yeah.”
“That’s Winston Thornhurst the third?”
“He … he didn’t look like that earlier today.”
“He’s a geek!”
I can’t argue. He’s not wearing anything that would be a dead giveaway like some kind of comic book logo or video game characters, but … yeah, he comes off incredibly nerdy. Especially with the circular glasses.
Pushing them up the bridge of his nose, he scans the crowd, and finally he sees me. Okay, he may be geeky looking, but he does have a certain cuteness about him. “Hey,” he calls over, waving to me.
“Hey,” I answer back, but it almost comes off like a question.
He smirks, then scans himself. “Yeah, I know. Not what you were probably expecting after our last couple of lunches.”
“Not exactly.”
