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“A decaying mall in the center of town doesn’t feel like the opportunity you think it is.”
“The city is eager to see new growth in the area and collect the taxes we’ll generate. There’s already a parking garage attached to it, so we wouldn’t have to worry about buying another nearby lot to accommodate parking.”
“The whole plan is a risk.” He threw money on the stage, and the dancer smiled at him. “That one likes me,” he informed me, taking another sip of his drink.
Yeah, like hell she did.
“When have I steered you wrong, Michael? Have any of the projects I’ve brought you in on turned sour for you?”
“No.” He said it grudgingly, and I knew he was thinking about a venture from two years ago that had almost lost him money. I hadn’t been involved, but the man had the memory of an elephant.
“What do you need from me to make it happen?”
“A night with that pretty wife of yours would seal the deal.” He laughed like it was funny. He always made jokes like that about Tarryn when shewasn’t around, and it made me so pissed I wish I could tell Richardson and his money to fuck off. I knew he didn’t mean it seriously, and that he thought he was being funny, but I didn’t find it amusing. “The two of you are still together?”
“Of course, we are.”
“There’s no ‘of course’ about it,” Richardson replied. “Look at me and Vivian. Together twenty-three years, and she leaves me for her personal trainer. What a cliché.”
I faked a sympathetic grimace. Vivian hadn’t left him because her personal trainer was hot. She’d left him because Michael was a dick who’d cheated on her with so many women I’d lost count—and those were only the ones I knew about. There was only so much a woman could take, even if her husband was King fucking Midas.
“Maybe I’d risk a third of what you’re asking for, but I don’t want to be on the hook for the entire venture.”
He’d been digging his heels in on this one for weeks now. Eventually, someone was going to snap up the property, and the opportunity would be gone.
I bit back a growl of frustration, feeling like I’d wasted far too much time trying to convince him. Months of work and now weeks of negotiations would all come to nothing if I couldn’t get his backing. Sure, there were other investors around, but having to cobble together money and contracts was a pain in the ass, and would take too long.
I put my beer bottle to my lips and tipped it back, letting some of the now-tepid liquid slide down my throat. I was tired of talking, tired of always needing investors. One of these days, I’d have enough capital to do everything myself. I’d never been the kind of man who was content with what was easily attainable. If I reached a goal, I set another and strove forit. Like a greyhound chasing a lure at the track, I couldn’t seem to stop myself.
Would any level of success ever be enough? Tarryn and I had been trying to make something of ourselves for so long, I wasn’t sure where the finish line was anymore.
I glanced up from peeling the label from my beer bottle, staring at the exit I wanted to be heading out of in the next twenty minutes. I needed to scroll through some names and see if I could think of someone else who might be interested in urban renewal.
A man stood in the doorway, probably letting his eyes adjust to the gloom. It was always dark in here, other than the flashing lights and spotlights. He turned his head, obviously trying to find a specific girl, or maybe his buddies. Abruptly, his purposeful strides took him in our direction.
Shit.
Shit, shit, shit.
How the hell had he even tracked me here?
Sure enough, a light illuminated part of Loïc’s face as he made his way toward us—his shadowed eyes fastened on me.
Fucking hell.
He looked sinister tonight, dressed mostly in black, his dark hair and perfect features making my breath catch. He didn’t look human. He was too beautiful and wild to be here, in this very human, very Richardson club. Not even the headline dancers were attractive enough to eclipse him.
His focus on me was unmistakable. My dick twitched despite it sleeping through the attractive, half-naked girls around us.
Why did I always react to him this way?
Initially, I hadn’t realized it, but we’d become completely entangled with this maniac because I was hopelessly attracted to him.
Tonight, he looked like sin on a stick. Then again, he always did.
Dressed in a T-shirt and jeans—no mesh, no faux fur—he looked like a god trying to fit in with mere mortals. He took a seat at our table without waiting to be greeted or invited. Michael didn’t look over, busy as he was with Cassie. At least I thought that was what she’d said her name was.
“What are you doing here?” I asked as soon as Loïc settled into the chair next to me, his eyes on the performer on stage.
