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Xavier Castillo, the youngest son of Colombia’s richest beer magnate.
Sloane stormed over to his table. He turned, a grin forming on his face despite her obvious displeasure. I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but judging by her hand gestures and his irreverent expression, I was minutes away from witnessing a murder.
Alessandra’s brows knitted. “Is that Xavier? I thought he was in Ibiza.”
I was as surprised as she was to see him in the city. He usually whiled away his days on a yacht, surrounded by models and other hedonistic heirs. His father had built his company from the ground up, but Xavier’s ambition hovered somewhere south of zero.
“He moved to New York a few weeks ago. He’s Sloane’s newest client.” Vivian winced when Sloane jabbed a finger at his chest, her eyes sharp enough to pierce stone. Xavier yawned, seemingly unfazed. “They’re having some growing pains.”
After another terse exchange, Sloane stalked toward the exit. “I’ll be right back,” she said grimly as she passed our table. Xavier followed her, managing to look bored and amused at the same time.
He nodded a greeting at me and winked at Vivian and Alessandra, who watched them leave with a wry smile.
“And then there were three,” she said. “So much for girls’ night.”
“Speaking of which, where’s Isabella?” I asked casually. As fascinating as Sloane’s client problems were, I didn’t care to speculate about what she was doing with—or to—Xavier, though I wouldn’t put it past her to stab him with a stiletto.
“She’s on the second floor.” Vivian took a demure sip of her drink. “Thisgorgeousguy asked her to dance, and we wanted to give them some alone time, so we didn’t follow her. Wasn’t he beautiful, Ale? He looked a bit like Asher Donovan.”
Alessandra’s frown deepened. “He wasn’tthatbeautiful…”
Vivian stared at her, hard. That strange silent communication women shared must have happened, because Alessandra’s face soon relaxed. Her eyes darted toward me. “But yes, I suppose he was quite handsome. Isabella certainly thought so.”
My teeth clenched so hard it hurt. “You let her go off with a stranger? When was the last time she checked in? He could bedruggingher right now.”
Didn’t they read the news? Crime was up. New date rape drug variants hit the streets every week. They were Isabella’s friends! They should have been looking out for her, not foisting her off on every Asher Donovan look-alike who passed by.
Donovan wasn’t even that good-looking, for fuck’s sake.
“She’s an adult. She can make her own decisions,” Vivian said calmly. “Isa is smart enough to take care of herself. Besides, the whole point of tonight was to find her a one-night stand.”
“Or more,” Alessandra added.
Vivian’s eyes twinkled. “Or more.”
Neither seemed to grasp the severity of the situation.
Irritation crawled into my chest and fed the restlessness bubbling beneath my skin. “Excuse me.” I stood so abruptly I almost knocked the glasses off a passing bottle server’s tray. “It was lovely seeing you both, but I should take a look around the club. For research.”
“Of course.” Vivian’s smile widened. “Good luck with your article.”
I left them in the lounge, Vivian looking oddly smug while Alessandra simply looked bemused.
I was too impatient to wait for the elevator, so I took the stairs to the second floor. My phone buzzed with a call from Dominic on my way down; I ignored it, though his timing was curious. He never called this late, and he was supposed to be in the office. Dominic rarely paid attention to anything except numbers when he was in work mode.
But all thoughts of why he might be calling me at midnight melted away when I reached my destination. Unlike the spacious VIP lounge, the second floor teemed with drunk twenty- and thirty somethings. Reggaeton blasted through the room, and the air dripped with sex, alcohol, and sweat.
Finding Isabella so soon defied all odds, considering how packed the club was. But I turned my head, and there she was. Even in a crowd of hundreds, she stood out like a sunflower in a field of weeds.
Face flushed, eyes sparkling, cheeks dimpled with an unfettered smile. Her hair tumbled down her back in loose waves, and the urge to wrap my fist around all that raven and violet silk burned through me. One tug and she’d be mine, her mouth ripe for the taking, her neck bared for my teeth and tongue.
I hardened, my mind alive with fantasies it had no business entertaining. I’d locked my less desirable impulses into foolproof boxes over the years, but one glance at her and the bolts disintegrated like parchment in flames.
Isabella’s laugh carried over the music to my ears. She tilted her head up to look at the man in front of her. Brown hair, ill-fitting shirt, the professionally whitened teeth of a politician or car salesman.Beautiful, my ass. He looked like a fucking douchebag.
My desire morphed into the flinty edge of jealousy. It glinted, one spark away from a fire, when he snaked an arm around her waist and whispered something in her ear.
Isabella must’ve felt the heat of my stare because instead of replying, she turned her head toward me. Our gazes collided, hers bright with surprise, mine undoubtedly dark with emotions I’d rather not examine too closely.
