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“Oh my gosh, I’m such an idiot,” I blurt, acting flustered. “I’m supposed to be meeting this guy here, and I don’t even have his number, we met at the gym, but… His name is Saint,” I add, dropping my voice. “He’s like… a duke or something! So hot. I’m running late, so he’s probably already inside…?”
The woman gives a little eyeroll. “Mr. St Clair. Of course,” she sighs, stepping aside. “He doesn’t seem to know the meaning of the word ‘private,’” she adds. “He’s in the lounge.”
“Thank you!” I trill, breezing past her, and into the dim, sensual surroundings of the club.
It’s still early, but there are a few people here already: Glamorous couples relaxing in the plush booths, people flirting for the night ahead. I’m not surprised to see a naked woman sandwiched between two men in the corner, her head already tipped back in pleasure; lips parted as they share her body between their capable hands.
It’s not so long ago thatIwas that woman… Discovering the ultimate pleasure right here under Sebastian’s expert tutelage, pushed beyond every limit and boundary to the sheer heady bliss of release.
I feel a pang of longing—not just for that pleasure, but for Sebastian’s embrace. The way he seemed to know my every fantasy, the ones I’d never even admitted out loud.
The sexual bond between us was like nothing else. And the prospect of life without it…?
Unthinkable.
I square my shoulders, and move deeper into the club, determined to track him down again, no matter what. Then I see exactly who’s going to help me: his friend, Saint, all six-foot-two of his louche, dark-haired frame. He’s lingering near the bar, flirting with a woman in a gorgeous diamond necklace…
And nothing else.
“Saint,” I say, sliding in beside them.
I give the woman a look, and she tactfully disappears, as Saint practically chokes on his drink. “Avery?” he says, looking shocked to see me. “What are you doing here….? I mean, what a miracle,” he covers quickly. “We all thought you were dead.”
“Nice try,” I smirk. He’s already given the game away: He’s more surprised to see me in the club, alone, than the fact that I’m alive and kicking, which means he’s already connected with Sebastian.
He knows we didn’t die in that crash.
“I’m looking for Sebastian,” I tell him bluntly.
“According to the papers, he’s sadly passed from this mortal coil,” Saint replies, recovering his usual nonchalant demeanor. “Pity, the man knew how to spice things up.”
“Cut the bullshit,” I lean closer. “This is important. I need to speak to him.
“And, just supposing he was alive and well, what makes you think I would know where he is?” Saint arches an eyebrow.
“You’re his best friend. If anyone knows, it’s you.”
“I’m sorry to disappoint,” Saint says, knocking back the rest of his drink. “I’m not the man’s keeper. In fact, I’ve got a busy schedule all on my own. Places to go, people to fuck, you know how it is,” he winks. “But if you’re lonely and looking for some company tonight, I have a date waiting in a group room. You’re more than welcome to join us,” he adds, with a suggestive smirk. “We can continue where we left off…”
He trails his fingertips over my bare arm. I flinch. “Tell Sebastian, he has to contact me,” I say urgently, but he just smiles.
“Suit yourself.”
Saint saunters off, beckoning the naked woman back to him with a snap of his fingers before they stroll from the room.
I watch him go, frustrated. He knows something, and I don’t have time for these games. Richard is still out there, and who knows what else he might be planning?
I have to get to Sebastian, wherever he’s hiding.
I leave the club, and call Charlie, back in the States. It’s the middle of the night there, but she answers immediately, sounding fresh and alert.
“What do you need?”
I smile. No need for small talk here. “Anthony St Clair, he’s a guy here in London. I need to know if he has any travel listed, or unusual expenses lately.”
I’m expecting her to have to call me back later, but instead, Charlie barely pauses for breath.
“Oh, yeah, I see the guy…” she says, and I hear the tap of computer keys. “Fancy bastard. Has a thing for expensive wine and antique books,” she muses, “At least, according to his credit card bills.”
