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This club makes my bar look tired and dated. All the time I shot down my sister’s ideas to make the bar better, more current, and it turns out she was right. This place is packed and buzzing with a contagious energy. I never wanted that fucking bar in the first place. I know our dad left it to me because he thought he was giving me a future, but in reality, it just took the future I had planned for myself away. And now, the whole reason I even accepted the bar in the first place, is flying off to better things. With this prick sitting across from me with his fancy watch and expensive whisky. My baby sister wants to be famous and this asshole has all the means to make that happen.
“She’s too young.” My argument is weak and I know it. But I won’t let this fucking asshole take my sister without a fight. She’s all I have left. Some record exec in a fancy suit and gelled hair can’t swoop in, wave money in her face, and drag her away from me. I’ve given up everything for Sofina. Fucking everything.
I glower at Ronan Hayes—CEO of Harose Records—my fists tightening with the urge to pummel his smug face. It was already infuriating for him to invite me here in the first place. To have to tell the doorman out front of this club that I was his guest. I know he’s into those power trips and I’ll be damned if I show him one ounce of gratitude. I’m here because of one reason.
Sofina.
“To know she’s in love?” he probes, his eyes hard and calculating. “To know her own mind and make her own choices? How old were you when you fell in love?”
My chest aches at his words. Too young. Too stupid.
“It’s different.”
His nostrils flare. “Why? Because she’s your sister?” He rolls his eyes and checks his watch as though this very conversation bores him. “We’re not that different, you and I,” he continues, piercing me with his authoritative stare. “My mother died, and I had to be the man, take care of my younger brother, and step up. But you need to know. You did your job. She’s grown. She’s starting her career and her life.”
Sadness and loss roil around inside me. Mom left us when we were young. It was just me, Dad, and Sof. When Dad died, then it was just the two of us. I hate that she’ll be gone soon too. Then what happens to me? Why does everyone I fucking care about leave me?
“I don’t know who I am without her,” I admit, bowing my head and running my fingers through my hair. “She’s all I’ve got.” It’s the fucking truth. I gave up everything else to be here for her. To raise her.
“Then don’t lose her by giving ultimatums and expecting her to choose a mediocre life. It’s beneath her. She’s too talented, Lucca. Don’t darken her dreams by making her live them without you.”
Another ache in my chest. I can’t lose her. Not over this. Anger surges through me. We wouldn’t even be having this conversation if this asshole didn’t show up on his white horse thinking he needed to save her from the person who loves her the most in this world.
“Why do you care? Why did you call me here?” I demand. He must have an agenda.
“Because she misses you. I see her hurting, and it pains me to see her in distress.”
“You act like you love her.”
“I do love her.”
His words are a sucker punch to my gut. Love hurts. It hurts really fucking badly. I know because love sliced me open and left me bleeding years ago. I’m still bleeding, dammit.
“You want my approval and for me to let you have her.” That’s not going to fucking happen.
“She’s already mine, Lucca. I’m not asking for anything. I’m giving you the chance to stop being a dick and give your sister what she actually needs.”
The nerve of this prick. “And what’s that?”
“You. Your support and love.”
Our conversation is silenced when someone announces my sister’s name on the microphone, booming and loud. It cannot be ignored. Ronan has my sister, and now everyone else will too. I’m losing her. What will I do now that she doesn’t need me anymore?
Who the fuck am I without her without the burden I’ve always felt on my shoulders to run the bar, to take care of the house, to take care of her—of us?
I’m lost in my thoughts when someone sits beside me as Ronan’s guest. I glance up to a woman I’ve seen more times than I’d like to admit.
Nina.
My dick twitches in recognition.
Twilight Nina from Boondock’s—a strip joint I often frequent.
Often is an understatement. All my free time is spent watching the women there, but never able to bring myself to touch. It’s safer that way. When you finally latch on, they’ll pry themselves loose and leave you broken. I know from experience. So Nina, and all the other women at Boondock’s, get my undivided attention and wads of cash, but that’s all they’ll ever get.
