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“I sent Janelle home the second you left, Amanda,” he says, not leaving any space for doubt.
I try to mask my surprise, shrugging as I continue, “Why? She was obviously more than willing to offer you what you usually go for—a quick pleasure without strings attached.”
He stays silent, his mouth twitching slightly before reacting. “I’m not the kind of guy who takes whatever woman throws herself at me,” he defends himself in an icy tone.
Silence stretches between us, and I realize I don’t want to further this tension. I came here for business, not to get into relationships and other private matters. Things that always end up with us getting into a quarrel, so I try to diffuse the situation.
“Olga and the girls invited me to come back and have tea with them.”
Brian’s jaw relaxes, and a soft smile appears. “Doesn’t surprise me,” he says in a calmer tone. “You’ve bewitched them with your Brown charms.”
I arch an eyebrow. “What Brown charms?”
His eyes lock with mine. “Your innate ability to make others like you in an instant.”
“Thank you, but you have the same gift, Brian. And I think it’s admirable what you’re doing for them.”
He shrugs, looking away. “They needed a place, and I figured we don’t open until one, so why not?”
I pause, catching myself smiling. “It shows once again you have more compassion and depth than you let on.”
“Maybe I do.”
I look at him and see a hint of vulnerability in the depths of his eyes, but a moment later, his natural confidence is back in place.
“Now let’s get to planning and make your night an even bigger success than I believe it will be.”
I raise a brow. “You seem pretty sure of that.”
“Yeah, because I only host the events I believe in. And I believe in yours. Now, come on Miss Brown, let’s get to work.”
I follow him but can’t help but wonder.How much more of himself is he hiding?
12
BRIAN
The lights pulse in time to the rhythm, engulfing the crowd and the dance floor in a kaleidoscope of colors. Aromas of sweat, perfume and energy hang in the air. Joyous couples move gracefully to the rhythm while others launch into wild spins and jumps. From the sidelines, I swell with pride at the sight of my club’s success. Even celebrities, politicians, and athletes come here for fun on their free nights
My eyes flicker to the bar, where Darius and his crew are ready to help all patrons get their drink fixes for the night. The mahogany bar gleams in the flickering light of the dance floor, its glossy finish reflecting its sheen. Behind it, hundreds of bottles of liquor, wine, and spirits are displayed in neat rows, illuminated by neon spotlights. Bartenders navigate through the maze of bottles like maestros of music, quickly fulfilling orders while laughter and jokes provide a backdrop of sound. In this place I have created, filled with music and drinks, I am king.
“Hey, is everything under control?” I ask Darius.
“Yeah,” he says with a grin, sliding the next tray with five whiskey margaritas my way. “Table twenty-three in the lounge has requested you specifically. This is their fifth round. They’re a young group of female influencers having their bachelorette night, and they want to meet the owner.”
I thank him for reminding me and make my way to the lounge area, which is a space apart from the main dance floor, featuring dark leather couches and armchairs, low tables, and ambient lighting. It is a safe haven for those seeking a respite from the pulsing energy of the dance floor. Five sets of eyes eat me alive when I arrive. Their smiles are wide, their gazes hungry for attention.
“Ladies,” I say with a smile as I set the tray of drinks down on the table. A woman with bright red hair reaches out and latches onto my wrist as I place a drink before her.
“Are you the owner of this club?” she asks, lips parting slightly.
I smile with pride, “Yes, I am.”
The group of women erupts into excited whispers and the bride-to-be adjusts her faux crown and says, “Please sit with us. We’ll post on social media how amazing this club is if you do.”
Knowing social media is a powerful tool and my target audience uses it a lot, I say, “Okay, five minutes, ladies.” I take a seat next to the woman who appears to be the least tipsy. “Are you girls having a good time tonight?”
The woman across from me, with the red hair, sets her lips apart and purrs. “Yes, of course.” Her foot gently tapping mine, a sly grin tugs at the corner of her lips as she continues, “But I would quite fancy getting personal attention from an attractive bar owner, maybe a nightcap?” Her shoe strokes my leg beneath the table, making my heart race in anticipation of what may come next. But then I remember Amanda’s face and regret sweeps over me for what I was planning to do.
