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Had her endeavor to help people turned her into a pushover? Or had she always been like this? Her brothers and father had taught her that it was better to give in, to let them have whatever they wanted.
Fighting only meant more pain before the inevitable.
But she wasn’t under their thumb anymore. They didn’t rule her life. And maybe she was letting people take advantage of her.
“Aston, come on!” Gretchen called back from where she was talking to the bouncer at the door.
Aston strode forward, giving everyone in the line a sympathetic smile as they groaned or glared.
She got it. She’d be annoyed too.
There was an audible grumble as the bouncer let them in.
“How did you get us in?” Aston asked, looking around the foyer. Wow, this place was gorgeous. It wasn’t done up like a sleazy nightclub but rather a nineteen-twenties club. There was a black and white checked floor and off to the right was a bar with tables and booths done in red velvet set around the room.
“This is the nightclub?”
“No, the club is upstairs,” Gretchen said with a scoff. “We need to check our coats.” They moved to the coat-checking area, where Gretchen removed hers.
Aston gaped at her.
“Like it?” the other woman asked with a sly grin.
“Oh, um, yep. Sure. It’s cute.” What there was of it. The dress was a deep red and silky, so it clung to Gretchen’s curves. It stopped just below her ass cheeks and the back had a big dip.
It was pure sex.
Wow. Aston wished she was brave enough to wear something like that. But she wasn’t.
She drew off her own coat and handed it over.
Gretchen groaned. “Aston, is that the best you had in your wardrobe?”
Well, no. She’d had to go out after work yesterday to buy this dress. She hadn’t had much time to look, so this was the best she could do. It was black, which wasn’t her best color since it washed her out even further. But the tiers hid the softness of her tummy and helped lessen the impact of her huge ass. It stopped just below her knees.
“It will do, I guess. Let’s go.” Gretchen latched onto her arm and dragged her past another bouncer, then up the stairs to the nightclub above.
Holy crap. She was dressed like a nun.
Well, not really. But compared to everyone else in the club, she was the odd one out, not Gretchen.
Great. Her first time in a club and she was going to make a complete dork of herself. Feeling awkward and unsure, she followed Gretchen toward the bar that was in the middle of the room. This one was circular, and the bartenders behind it were busy fielding orders.
The whole place was packed and the vibe was good.
But she felt out of place.
Maybe she should have pretended that she was still ill. She’d ended up going back to work on Wednesday and worked a long day catching up on her work. Then, yesterday after work, she’d gone shopping for this nun’s dress.
Which meant she hadn’t really seen Maxim much the rest of the week. But he’d been texting to check in on her. He’d told her he was busy with work stuff.
Would he be here tonight? Even if he was, she wasn’t likely to see him.
Gretchen handed her two shots, keeping two for herself. Aston watched as the other woman downed them both quickly.
So . . . it seemed they’d be catching an Uber home.
“Come on! Drink them down! They taste like jam donuts.”
Shoot. She wanted to refuse, but what could it hurt? She gulped the first one.
That actually was pretty delicious. After the second one, she set the glass down. Her head was buzzing slightly. She rarely drank alcohol so she was basically a lightweight.
“Come on, let’s dance!”
Well, all right. Aston loved dancing. And at least no one would be watching her in this crush of people.
Maxim watched her dance.
God she was . . . she was . . . so fucking bad at it.
How could anyone be that terrible? It boggled his mind. It was like she couldn’t hear the beat of the music at all. The dance floor was crammed and yet people managed to give her space. Probably worried that if they got too close, she’d take them out with a flying arm or leg.
It was how he’d spotted her. What was she doing here? Had she come to this club because she knew it was his? He hadn’t told her that he owned Glory, but it wasn’t a secret, either. She could easily have figured it out . . . if she’d been looking into him.
Satisfaction filled him.
Had she been researching him? Was she as interested in him as he was in her? All week, he’d wanted to pop into her apartment to check on her. But he’d restricted himself to several text messages. And the one time he’d stopped by and knocked, she hadn’t been home. But her neighbor had basically pounced on him the minute he’d appeared, eating him up with her gaze.
