Page 22 of Beni

A sly smile light up Camilla’s features as she glanced at August from the side. “It pays to know people.”

August nodded. “Or it pays to be the wife of the next Outfit boss.”

“Well, that too.”

Their laughter was drowned out by the loud scratching coming from the DJ booth when the man started a new record. The place was banging. Even August had to admit that, and she wasn’t much of a club-goer since Camilla left New York after getting married. She focused more on college, and her career, than drinking and having fun.

Now, with the swaying lights overhead, the strobes pointed on the DJ in his large, glass-encased booth, the music pumping a familiar tune under her feet that made her want to dance, and the promise of liquor coming soon … well, August was happy to be back.

Camilla practically climbed over the bar, drawing in a whistle from a couple of men—who looked like frat, fuck boys, to be honest—down the way. Her friend ignored the catcalls, and August bet Tommaso was nearby, seriously considering if he could get away with murder in the packed club.

Nothing new to see here.

August took in the club, and the layout again while Camilla found the specific brand of whiskey she wanted on the built-in shelves behind the bar. Glossy, hardwood floors vibrated under her heels. Although up high, the club had an industrial look what with the exposed metal ceilings, and pipes running overhead. Large, bare bulbs provided some light, but the rest was compliments of the light setups over the twenty-five-foot-long bar, and the DJ booth.

At the back of the club, one could find hallways that led to bathrooms for the patrons, a set of offices, and storage. On the east side of the club, the VIP section sat on a raised platform, secured by the same kind of silver, metal bars that crisscrossed the ceiling. There was very little sitting area outside of the VIP, which seemed to be fine for the patrons, because they were much more interested in drinking and dancing.

August knew the feeling.

The club was designed for fun—all kinds of it.

Her stare was still scanning the people dancing on the floor when it came to a stop on a group near the entrance of the club. She recognized two faces in the group that flooded the space—Joe and Cory Rossi, the owners of the club, and cousins to Tommaso, Cam’s husband. August met them once or twice, in previous visits to her friend, not to mention they had been in the wedding party when Cam and Tom married.

But it wasn’t the Rossi brothers—who were impossible to miss with their impressive sizes, inked skin, and severe stares that said they were appreciating their hard work in front of them—but rather, the two men to their left.

Identical men.

Twins.

August blinked again.

My God.

They were handsome, the twins. Their dark brown hair had been cut in matching high fades, which only accentuated sharp cheekbones and chiseled jawlines when they turned their profiles to the side—at the same time, although in opposite directions. Their identical mouths, pulled down into a frown, showed full lips, and just a day or two worth of scuff.

Leather jackets.

Dark wash jeans.

Converse.

Oh, their clothes didn’t match exactly, sure, but they still wore a similar style. And when the one on the left raised his right hand to run his fingers across the nape of his neck while he surveyed the club, the twin on the right did the same with his opposite hand. Except … they hadn’t looked at one another. They didn’t know either of them were doing that gesture.

Wow.

August had never been more interested in watching other humans until that moment. And yet, despite their matching good looks, her gaze was drawn to the twin on the left more than the one on the right. He filled out that leather jacket and jeans fantastically. That was an understatement, really. Strong thighs, a broad chest, and wide shoulders.

Shit, yeah.

Handsome really didn’t do him justice. And she bet he would look even better if he was wearing nothing at all, and looming over her in a bed.

Yep.

Damn.

She went there fast.

She couldn’t help but notice how the two brothers’ body language spoke of discomfort. They angled their stances toward one another, and yet turned their heads away. As though they didn’t want to look at one another, or talk, and yet they still wanted to be together at the same time.