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"How did you get in here, Lyla?"
"I'm a guest at the hotel. They can't stop guests from entering the club," she snapped, giving her a haughty look.
"That was obviously a last minute arrangement. Look, Lyla, now is not the time, okay?"
"You will do it, or I'll tell Eli right now that you're pregnant."
"You have no proof," Holly argued.
"Does it matter? It's enough to create problems, and do you really need that, Holly?"
Oh, this fucking bitch. If she wasn't pregnant, she would be brawling in this club right now, job or not.
"Why John Cohan?"
"Why not? Are you blind? He's all man, and I want him."
"We've never had one bit of gossip on John. He's not exactly the social type, Lyla."
"Good, more for me, then."
Holly sighed. "They're in the VIP section. Go on, I'll follow."
Lyla marched ahead of her, her tight silver mini-dress glittering under the club lights. She'd paired the outfit with four-inch heels. And while it was definitely sexy, she didn't think John Cohan would give a fuck.
She shot a text to Ryder, praying he was sober enough to decipher it.
Holly:Bringing my pain-in-the-ass bitchy boss to VIP to meet John. Couldn't get out of it. Tell John I'm sorry.
They were almost to the VIP section when her phone buzzed.
Ryder:He said it's cool.
Once they reached the top of the stairs, Lyla marched over to John Cohan, who sat alone at a table drinking a beer. Ryder, Sam, and Fally were at the railing watching the club goers dance.
"Hey, John." Holly gave him an apologetic look. "This is my boss, Lyla. She wanted to meet you, and I couldn't say no."
"Hello," Lyla purred, offering him a bright smile. "I just had to congratulate you on your win tonight. And I wanted to meet the most intriguing player on the team. Mind if I join you?"
John Cohan leaned back in his seat. Holly couldn't tell if he was drunk or not. He was a big man, with big arms, and his hands made the beer bottle he held look tiny. It probably took a lot to get him buzzed and a lot more to get him plastered.
His blue eyes shifted from Holly to Lyla. "I appreciate the compliment."
Holly raised her eyebrows. She'd never heard a voice that deep or smooth. Women probably volunteered to drop their panties the second they heard that baritone.
Lyla swooned, and she had to stifle a laugh. Her boss glanced back at her like she was a bug on the windshield. "You can leave, Holly. I don't need you anymore."
When Lyla strutted around the table to take the seat next to him, John spoke up.
"But no, you can't join me."
Lyla paused, a stunned look on her face. "What?"
"I said, you can't join me. I don't know you, and I'm not interested in getting to know you. I'm celebrating with my team. That's all I care to do tonight."
"Another night, then," Lyla said smoothly, running a hand down over her dress. "I understand."
"You need to understand there won't be another night." He studied her, then took a swig from the bottle.
