by Kylie Kent
We find two seats at the bar, I order a vodka lime soda and look around more while I wait for my drink and contemplate how I will get out of here after this drink, alone.
There is so much beauty to take in my eyes scan up and down the room, that’s when I see him. I lock eyes with possibly the most handsome man I’ve ever seen. His eyes pinned me, I wish he were closer so I could see the colour. Leaning against the end of the bar, he lifts his glass to his lips, lips that look full and soft. I watch as he sips his drink, watch his throat as he swallows, god damn even his throat is sexy. His beauty far outshines the opulence of this club. Inky hair that looks like it has a slight curl to it on top, tanned skin, chiselled jaw with a little more than a five o’clock shadow. He’s wearing a white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up, mmm arm porn anyone? The top few buttons of his shirt are left undone, showing off just enough of a smooth chest. Paired with dark blue dress pants, he looks like he has just come from the cover shoot for GQ. As I’m contemplating this a shadow falls across his face and his features become hard, almost like he’s angry all of a sudden, like he wants to rip someone’s head off.
I don’t have time to dwell on his sudden change as a hand creeps up my leg. I turn to find Ethan with one hand on my leg and the other holding up my drink. Removing his hand from my leg, I smile as I go to take my drink from him and my head spins. I lose my balance and fall into him. What the heck? I haven’t even had the damn drink yet. I stumble as I try to find my way back onto my seat, his arms go around me like a vice and I push him back with both hands against his chest. Suddenly, he goes flying. Man, I’m stronger than I thought I was. I barely catch myself on the bar before I look up and into a pair of green eyes, emerald green eyes. Eyes that belong to the GQ model and he looks mad.
I try to focus on his eyes, but the world is spinning, reaching up I touch his face thinking, “GQ, you are so pretty.” Then I hear it, a rumble? A laugh?
A deep husky voice mumbles, “thanks,” before his arms reach out and grab my waist. Thanks? Why is he thanking me? Why is the world spinning so fast? I think I just need to close my eyes for a bit, I close my eyes and then feel my body falling.
Chapter Two
Zachary
Two hours earlier
Four hours, I’ve been sitting in this chair for four straight fucking hours. Stretching out the kink in my neck, I rub my thumbs over my temples to relieve some built-up pressure thumping through my head. I’ve been reading spreadsheet after spreadsheet, dealing with invoices, stock orders. I should hire someone to manage all of this day to day shit for me. The problem is, I don’t trust any fuckers with my accounts.
I’m reading through the latest revenue report, we’ve doubled our profit margin this month compared to what it was this time last month. It seems the events and PR manager I hired two months ago has been doing her job this last month. I was close to firing her during her first month here, her constant attempts at flirting and eye fucking me were getting on my fucking nerves.
She must have finally got it through that plastic head of hers. It would never happen for her. I make it a rule to not fuck the employees on my payroll, it never ends well for me or them.
The way the club is making legal money this month will make it a hell of a lot easier for the accountant to clean the money from the other business I run here. While owning one of the best nightclubs in Sydney is a very lucrative business, running the underground fight club, Club M, adds a lot more cash to the ever-growing pot.
Looking back through the extensive list of emails I have yet to reply to, I skim through to see which ones can wait, and which ones I will have to find the fucking time to get to before the night’s through. I’m just about to click one open from my lawyer as my office door fly’s open, and my baby brother, all 6 ft 3inches of him, barges through the door. Obviously, he hasn’t learnt the skill of fucking knocking.
“Bray, I see you still haven’t mastered the art of knocking.” Sliding the Glock, I was about to point his way back into the slot on the underside of my desk.
“Why waste precious time knocking when I can just turn the fucking handle and boom, here I am,” he replies loudly as he slumps his big form onto the couch, pouring himself a glass of Glenfiddich 50-year-old whisky. Leaning back, he pops his feet up on the table. “Help yourself why don’t you, and while you’re at it, get your dirty fucking boots off my table.”
He grumbles as he removes his feet, placing them back on the floor. I give up on staring at the computer screen and join Bray at the couch, pouring myself a glass. “We have ten fully stocked bars in this building, why are you in my office drinking my whisky?”
The bastard just smirks at me. “You’ve got the good stuff, why wouldn’t I be here.” I’m not buying that he just stormed into my office for whisky, however, I know my brother and I know when to pick my battles. This is one I don’t need to pick right now.
Deciding to change tactics, I ask, “you ready for the fight tonight? Think maybe you should save your celebratory drink for after you win, winning me the thousands I’m betting on you?”
Bray shakes his head smirking. “Please, I was born ready for this fight. Smith will wish he never challenged the Brayden fucking Johnson to an actual fight in the cage.”
He’s always been so damn cocky, that he’s undefeated does not help. I’ve placed a hundred grand on the line, so he better be fucking winning tonight. “You better be ready, I have a lot riding on this fight Bray.” I try to hit home with him just how much is at stake if he loses.
“I know bro, relax, I got this.” He sips his drink before adding, “also, I need you to be present on the floor tonight.”
Ah, I knew there was a reason he was in my office, and there it is. “And why, exactly, would you need me to be on the floor tonight?” I question.
I do my best not to be seen out on the floor, I would rather be in the basement watching over my fights, than watching over drunks and pushing off girls who have no sense of self-preservation.
They always come across like they’re good for the one-night deal I offer, but then here they’ll be hanging around the following weekend with claws out looking to stake a claim they have no right to stake. I don’t do relationships, ever. No woman has ever kept my interest longer than a weekend to even make it seem worth considering putting myself through the hell of a monogamous relationship.
“I have it on good authority that Ella will be here tonight.” And there it is, the one reason that would have my ass out on the fucking floor; our baby sister, and when I say baby I mean fucking eighteen-year-old baby.
“Why the fuck would she come here? This is no place for Ella.”
“You think I want her here? I have one fight tonight, I don’t need to be fighting every other fucking arsehole in this joint that looks at her on top of the one I have to win.”
When I say nothing else Bray sighs. “She’s eighteen Zac, we can’t exactly lock her away, and better that she comes to our club where we can keep an eye on her than she goes somewhere else where anything could fucking happen.” I have to agree with that, not the locking away idea, because that’s still a viable option to me.
“What am I supposed to do when she gets here? Just sit back and watch our baby sister get shit-faced and get hit on by fucking drunks? Not happening.”
He thinks on this for a moment before responding, “when she gets here, have one of your boys take her and her friends to the VIP floor, I’ve reserved a section for them.”
“Fine, but I’m having two of my guys stay in her section all night, and when, not if but when, I’m getting locked up for murdering the arseholes that try to hit on her, you better fucking bail me out.”
Brayden smirks before getting up and walking to the door, looking back he says, “I’ll do better than bail you out bro, I’ll bury the fucking bodies so that no one ever finds them. You can’t have a murder without a body, right?”
With that, he walks out the door. It wouldn’t be the first tim
e he’s buried a body or two either.
After replying to about a billion emails I look at the clock, I can hear the house music of the club pump, it’s ten to nine, still early in club time, however, I have no idea what time Ella is planning on arriving. Shrugging out of my jacket, I remove my tie and fold the sleeves of my shirt up as I’m walking out of my office.
Dean, my best friend since high school and head of security, falls into step next to me. “What’s on the agenda for tonight boss?” he asks.
Grunting, I relay what little info I know, “Ella and some of her friends are planning to come in tonight, I need you to find two of your best guys to escort her straight to the VIP floor, make sure they stay in her section the whole night. I’m sure I don’t need to tell you, but no one touches her.”
He looks at me for a moment with a look I can’t quite decipher, somewhat furious and confused. “What the fuck is she doing coming to a place like this? Isn’t she only seventeen?”
“She just turned eighteen two weeks ago; you were there at her fucking party you moron. Until now I’ve kept her out of here, fuck, I’m gonna have to kill some mother fucker tonight, aren’t I?”
Dean shakes his head, pulling out his phone ready to send off the orders to his men, he adds, “don’t worry, you won’t be the only one doing the killing.” With that he turns the opposite way, walking up to the VIP floor, while I make my way down to the first floor.
I find a spot at the end of the main bar that extends the length of the building. From this vantage point I can see the entrance to the club and every fucker that enters. As I look around, I see people are already filling the top floor balconies that overlook the dance floor. Groups of people sitting around the sectioned areas that line the red walls of this floor. The tables that people sit around show the vision of The Merge. Bodies entwined in a sexual embrace, when two or more souls become merged to unite as one.
Over the years I’ve built The Merge up from the bottom, it’s now the place to come for a good night out. What most don’t know, is the real action happens in the basement below this very floor. Where my underground fight events are held; where I should be now instead of sitting at this damn bar waiting for my sister to arrive.
James comes over with my drink before I even have to signal for him. “This is why you’re my number one barman, James,” I say in way of greeting, taking the drink.
“I’m your number one because my hot bod brings all the girls to the bar more like it,” he exclaims.
I have to admit he makes a killer in tips from the ladies here, even though tipping in Australia is not common. When he first started, James demanded we place a gold tip jar on the bar with his photo on it. According to him, the jar matched the décor or some shit so it shouldn’t bother me it’s there.
The only time I’ve noticed it is when I see ladies strip their panties off right in front of it and place them in the jar. I keep my face turned towards the door waiting for Ella.
“If only they knew you would never make use of those numbers or panties they slip in that jar of yours.”
James laughs, “nope, but I’d sure as shit make use of your number if you slipped it in.” I shake my head at him. He has been trying to get me to swing to his team since he started working here four years ago.
“Waiting on someone?” James asks as he wipes the bar down, nosey bastard that he is.
“Ella,” I say, not looking at him. That has him coughing and splattering all over the place. I wait for him to compose himself.
When he finally gets himself under control his eyebrows rise in question. “What is she doing coming to a place like this?”
“Apparently, she is eighteen now, and this is what eighteen-year-old’s fucking do on a Friday night.”
“Well, eighteen or not, she’s not likely to have any fun here with you and Bray around supervising.”
That thought makes me smile, looking at him I say, “you know what? You’re right, with any luck she’ll hate it and not want to go clubbing again.” I raise my glass in a cheers as he walks back down the other end of the bar to serve some early customers.
I turn back to keep watch on the door again and almost choke on the drink I was attempting to swallow. Standing in the doorway is a fucking angel. Long, blonde, wavy hair, curves in all the right places and those breasts, holy mother of gods, what I wouldn’t do to get a taste of them. Even in the dark she looks like a ray of fucking sunshine.
She stands there in a red dress looking every bit a fifty’s pinup model. Why is she just standing there? She seems to look around taking it all in. Just as I’m about to get up and offer her a privately guided tour, particularly to my office, some pencil dick douche comes up behind her and squeezes her ass.
I’m ready to rip the douches hand right off his arm. She spins so quickly with her arm raised and I wait for the slap that doesn’t come. She hesitates before lowering her arm.
The douche grabs her hand and starts tugging her towards the bar. I’m ready to put him in his place for her before she tugs her hand free and takes up a seat right next to him. Maybe he’s her boyfriend. The thought makes me irrationally mad. I don’t know this woman. I don’t have any kind of claim on her … yet. I watch as she orders a drink from James before spinning around in her chair and watching the room.
Her gaze finally makes it to my side of the bar and as soon as our eyes lock on each other I’m hypnotised, caught in a trance soaking in all that she is. She isn’t looking away either. I don’t know what it is, but this woman has cast a spell. I know I need to look away, but I can’t seem to make my eyes move.
Just behind her I see James place their drinks on the bar top before turning away to serve another customer, that’s when I see the pencil dick douche empty some kind of white powder into her drink.
This has me seeing red. Just as I’m getting up to go over, the douche slides his hand up her leg and she turns around, about to accept the drink but she stumbles. When he grabs her, I know I’m about to cash in on Bray’s offer to bury bodies.
The angel attempts to push him off, but it’s useless, he’s twice her size. Walking up behind him, I throw him across the room before turning back to my sunshine. Huh, my sunshine? I give a hand signal to the security that has grabbed him so they know to take him down to the basement and wait for my orders on what to do with him.
I turn just in time to catch the angel as she falls again, steading her with my hands on her waist. I know she can’t be drunk. I watched her walk into the club less than five minutes ago, she was stable, not a wobble to her. Now she can barely stand.
She reaches up and touches my face. “GQ, you are so pretty.” I laugh, but before I know it, she’s falling into me.
“Shit.” Scooping her up into my arms, I instruct James to have her drink, the one I know was roofied, sent downstairs and to tell the boys to wait for me.
I pick up her purse off the bar and carry her up to my office and lay her on the couch. Just as I’m doing this, Dean comes through the door. He looks at me, then at the couch, then at me again.
Yeah, mate I know, it’s strange to see a woman on my couch in her clothes. Although now that I think about it, that dress doesn’t do a damn thing to cover her body from roaming eyes. Before I think about what I’m doing, I walk over to my chair and grab my jacket, placing it over the top half of her body.
As I look back up Dean is staring at me, mouth gaping like a damn fish. “What?” I demand, getting more and more frustrated at the situation, I need to get my hands on the fucker who did this to her.
He shakes his head and smirks, “umm, nothing boss. What do you want me to do with the prick the boys brought downstairs?”
“Ella here yet?” I ask.
“Just got here, she’s in VIP with her friends, got Steve and Jonno with them.”
I nod. “Tell them to bring her up here, make sure Steve and Jonno come too.”
He pulls out his phone firing off text messages as I empty the woman’s purse
contents onto my desk. Picking up her ID I discover she is 23yrs old. Alyssa Summers. Nice name, it feels like it just rolls off the tongue.
Ella comes stumbling into my office giggling with one of her friends who suddenly stops and stares at me, Ella is oblivious until I call her out. “Ella, how much have you had to drink?”
She looks up and smiles at me, knowing she can usually get away with murder with that damn smile. This time I’m not smiling back. She takes a minute, but she sobers and looks around, noticing the woman passed out on the couch, she looks back to me.
“I’ve only had one drink Zac, why?”
“I need you to stay here and watch over her for a bit.” I say pointing at the passed out and oblivious woman.
“Who is she? And why am I babysitting one of your floozies?”
“She,” I say pointing at the woman, “is Alyssa, and was roofied by some asshole that I need to teach a lesson to. She is not one of my floozies as you call them.”
Ella takes a moment to digest what I’ve said before taking a seat on the opposite couch, her silent friend following suit. “Wow, I can’t believe someone was stupid enough to drug a girl in your club, Zac.”
I don’t reply to the comment, the motherfucker won’t be doing it again once I’m finished with him.
“I need you to stay outside the door, no one gets in, no one touches her,” I demand pointing at Steve and Jonno, both who nod their heads before turning to stand out the front of the door.
Turning to Ella, I instruct, “do not let anyone touch her.”
She stares at me mouth open before composing herself and replying, “sure thing big brother, no one touches her.”
I kiss Ella on the head as I walk out of the office. “Don’t leave until I get back.” I don’t bother waiting for her reply, I know she won’t leave Alyssa alone.
