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“Move,” I said, pushing through. My hand, heavy with the weight of privilege, flashed the bills like a badge.
The bouncer, a mountain of a man's eyes flicked down, then up—greed crossing his face before indifference settled back in. He took the offering and stepped aside without a word. Inside, the club was an inferno of senses. Purple lights cut across the darkness, strobing, revealing glimpses of slick bodies moving together in rhythm, then plunging them back into shadow. The bass thumped, a primal heartbeat that sent shockwaves through me with every step I took. That long bar—a glittering oasis—spanned the club, bottles shining like beacons for the thirsty.
I moved, my path a determined slash through the crowd. Cologne hit me, heavy and cloying, mixed with the tang of sweat—that sweet stink of human heat. It clogged my lungs, stuck to my insides, as if I could ever forget where I was, who I’d come here to get. Through the haze of heat and flesh, he was unmistakable. Darius—my fucking Darius—lit up the dance floor, a flame drawing moths. Sweat clung to him, his hazel eyes shut, lost in the rhythm, or the booze, or both. One hand gripped a glass loosely, the other hung by his side, inviting trouble. Trouble that came as some gruff brute pawing at what wasmine. My blood boiled, veins pulsing with possessive fury. No one else had the right. No one.
“Get your hands off him,” I growled under my breath as I stalked forward, every fiber coiled tight.
He didn’t see me coming. Couldn’t have. I reached out, fingers biting into Darius’s arm, and yanked him back. The man behind him—a blur of indignation—spat curses into the chaos, but I gave no fucks. Darius stumbled into me, blinking those heavy-lidded eyes in surprise, his mouth ajar. He tried to say something, maybe a slurred protest or a drunken joke, but it fell away. Instead, that sheepish grin spread across his face, the same one that always spelled trouble.
“Uncle?” he slurred, recognition kicking in too late.
“Shut up,” I snapped, low and harsh. My arms circled his waist, pulling him close enough to feel the erratic beat of his heart against mine. “Two can play this game. Let’s go.”
His body leaned into mine, relying on my strength to keep him upright. The heat from his skin seared through the thin fabric of my shirt, and goddamn if that didn’t stoke the fire in my gut even more.
I tightened my grip on Darius, the club’s cacophony fading as my focus narrowed on the exit. But the gruff intruder wasn’t having it. He stepped in front of us, his bulky frame blocking our path.
“Problem?” His voice was an arrogant grunt.
“Back the fuck up,” I warned, eyes drilling into his, “or you’ll have a bigger one.”
Laughter rumbled from his chest before he leaned forward and spat—a disgusting splatter on the polished leather of my three-thousand-dollar shoes. Heat flooded my face, anger coiling tight in my chest.
“Fuck!” My fist clenched at my side, but I held back, barely.
Darius, with that half-cocked smiley piercing glinting under the strobe lights, let out a wild howl. He wobbled as he pointed a shaky finger at the man. “You’re gonna regret that,” he slurred, words sloppy but laced with a venom that could chill blood.
The club’s pulse pounded through my veins, the scent of sweat and spilled liquor thick in the air. The tension wound between us, ready to snap.
Muscle and malice swung at me, a fist cutting through the throb of bass. Darius leaped, his lean frame a blur of instinct and rebellion.
“Fuck off!” he spat, as the blow meant for me crunched against his face instead. His body hit the floor.
“Shit, Darius.” The name ripped from my throat as I reached for him, fingers grazing his drenched shirt before another fist slammed into my cheek. Pain exploded, bright and sharp, my vision splintering to black.
I stumbled, blood metallic on my tongue. The gruff asshole was on me again, a barrage of blows raining down. My back met the sticky club floor, the scent of cologne and aggression thick in my nostrils. His boot connected with my ribs, a brutal percussion that melded with the pulse of the club. Everything seemed to go silent. The only feeling I had was the continuous sting as the man’s boot connected with my torso. Then like claws, a pair of hands clamped down on my arms, hauling me up from the sticky floor. The bouncer’s grip felt like iron shackles as he dragged me past the strobing lights and jeering faces. Darius was slung over another bodyguard’s shoulder like a limp rag doll, blood trickling from his nose, his breath reeking of alcohol.
“Out!”
The security command got lost in the din, but his meaning was clear as daylight.
I stumbled forward, every step sending jolts of pain through my bruised body. The man who’d started it all was shoved ahead of us, spitting curses back at me. As we were tossed outside, the night air slapped my face and the club's door slammed shut behind us. My ribs screamed protest, a chorus of agony with each gasp for air. Fuck, this hurt. But Darius… he needed me.
“Darius,” I grunted, pulling him upright. His eyes were glazed, unfocused. “Come on.”
The car was a block away, parked in a shadowy corner where I thought no one would see us descend into this madness. Darius staggered beside me, his curses slurred.
“Fuck hole,” he mumbled, wiping at the blood smearing his lip. His tattoos seemed to writhe on his arm with each unsteady movement.
“Shut up and move,” I snapped. Every step was a battle against the throbbing in my skull. My suit, once pristine, was now a canvas of violence, stained and torn. This was not how the night was supposed to go.
I unlocked the car, the soft click sounding louder than it should have. With a shove, Darius fell into the backseat, sprawling across the leather like a casualty of war. A grunt escaped me as I slid behind the wheel, the seatbelt cutting across my chest like a reminder of every bruise forming beneath my skin. I thought about heading to the emergency room, but I quickly changed my mind.
No way I was explaining this shit show—not when I could barely explain it to myself. The engine roared to life under my hands, a purr of controlled power that contrasted with the chaos we’d left behind. As I put the car into gear, I made a mental note to call my private doctor once I got back to the condo. He owed me enough favors to patch us up without questions. Questions I couldn’t answer. Not to myself, not to anyone.
Darius’s breathing was heavy in the silence, the only sound apart from the engine’s hum as I drove us away from the chaos. The stench of blood and booze filled the car as I sped through the midnight streets, Darius’s moans like a twisted serenade from the backseat. I fixated on him from the rearview mirror. “Hang in there, baby boy,” I said, the words coming out softer than I expected. “We’ll get fixed up at the condo.”
The thought of Cynthia being away was a damn relief. No need to spin a tale about drunken brawls and bloodied noses. No need for her to see the mess Darius and I had become. The night air whipped through the open window, doing jack shit to clear the tension.
