Page 64 of Have To Be Mine

“Time to go!” I shouted over the music.

They couldn’t hear me. Or they were ignoring me. Either way, they kept dancing.

I looked around for Dash and spotted him near the bar, trying to extract another model who’d apparently decided the bartender was her soulmate. She had her arms wrapped around his neck.

I turned back to the dancers and did the only thing I could think of. I stepped directly into their shot, blocking the camera.

“Hey!” one of them protested.

“Outside. Now. All of you.”

“We’re making content!”

“You’re making a lawsuit waiting to happen. Move your asses. That’s an order.”

Something in my tone must have triggered their survival instincts because they actually listened. They filed past me, grumbling, but they moved. I herded them toward the door like I was back at West Point dealing with recruits who couldn’t follow basic instructions.

The limo was waiting outside, engine running. The driver looked exhausted. I didn’t blame him.

“In,” I commanded, pointing at the open door.

They climbed in, still filming and laughing. One of them tried to convince me to do a shot with them. They were the most obnoxious humans I had the misfortune of meeting.

Dash emerged from the club with the sobbing model. He loaded them into the limo with impressive efficiency.

“One more stop,” he said to me, his voice tight.

“How many are left?”

“Three. Maybe four. The driver at the last place said they wandered off.”

“Of course they did.”

Twenty minutes later, we had them all rounded up. I watched the last limo pull away from the curb. Thank God.

My entire body was screaming. The sunburn had progressed from painful to unbearable. Every movement felt like someone was taking sandpaper to my skin. Sweat was running down my back, my face, pooling in places I didn’t want to think about. I was dehydrated, exhausted, and so done with the entire situation.

I stumbled toward a lamp post and leaned against it, pressing my forehead to the cool metal. It provided about three seconds of relief before the heat radiating from my skin made even that uncomfortable. Dash had gone back into the club to pay any open tabs.

I wiped the sweat from my brow with the back of my hand. My head was pounding. I needed water. I needed to get out of these clothes. A cool shower, a soft bed and a dark room with the air-conditioning cranked to arctic levels was the only cure I could think of.

“Krista.”

I looked toward him. “All taken care of?”

“Yep. No damage done. I gave some generous tips to buy their silence. Yes, I threw money at the problem. Please don’t yell at me again.”

He was throwing my words back at me. I deserved it. He stepped closer and scowled.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Fine.”

“You don’t look fine.”

“I said I’m fine. I’m getting a cab and going back to the hotel.”

“You’re really burned,” he said quietly.