Nightclub Sins: A Billionaire Romance Series

by Michelle Love

  Tom chuckled. “A side effect from the MDMA. Excessive thirst.”

  With a nod, my jaw clenched. I didn’t like that at all. But I’d promised to give this whole thing a try. “I’ve never taken MDMA before. What can I expect?”

  Natasha answered first, “I call it truth serum. The drug lulls you, leaving you feeling good about everything. Safe, you know? Like you can say anything you’ve done or seen to your therapist and not worry that they’ll think you’re sick, crazy, or a monster. I can’t quite bring myself to admit the things I’ve done unless I’m on the pill.”

  Tom added, “And then there’s the arousal.” He looked me up and down, as if trying to get a measure of my personality. “If you’re anything like me, you’re probably worried about that part of the drug.”

  I nodded. “A bit, yes. Especially since my fiancé isn’t available to scratch that itch.”

  Everyone laughed then, and Tillie answered, “The therapeutic sessions go on for at least eight hours. I don’t begin to get antsy until the end, and when my therapist notices me squirming, she ends the session, and I have to go masturbate for at least an hour.”

  Natasha added, “It’s like a little inside joke around here. Don’t let it bother you if you see someone walking real fast to get to their room, and they ignore you. It’s just that they have to deal with some more personal matters in private.”

  “I’ve got to ask,” I said as one question ate at me. “Is there a lot of hooking up in here?”

  They all looked back and forth at each other, then each one of them looked at a table in the far corner where six people sat. One female and five males. “If you’re into hooking up, she’s really the only one into that here.”

  “No,” I said quickly as I shook my head. “I’m not into that at all. I was just wondering.”

  Tom laughed then downed the last of his water, and I saw Tasha coming into the cafeteria. She waved me over, and I excused myself to go get my schedule.

  Things were about to begin, and I felt ready for that.

  Chapter 25

  Tawny

  A week had passed, and I hadn’t heard a thing from August. Leila had come over to our place to do some planning. She’d called me up, explaining that the family wanted to have the holiday at August’s place that year, which would work great, as August was set be released from the facility just a couple of days before Thanksgiving.

  I was happy to oblige as I’d already requested that my start date at the hospital be moved to January fifth; I was free as a bird and knew the planning would help take my mind off missing August.

  Leila’s kids had come over, too. It was the weekend, and they helped keep Calum entertained while Leila and I chatted over a few glasses of the wine she’d brought with her. She’d handed the car keys to her oldest, Jeanna, just after coming inside. “Here, Jeanna, I’m drinking, so you’re driving us home.”

  Her daughter took the keys and followed the others to the game room. “Got it, Mom.”

  Leila showed me the bag with the three bottles inside. “I’ve brought us some refreshments, Tawny. But I drink responsibly, never drinking and driving. My hubby’s Uncle Alonzo died in a car wreck ten years ago after drinking and driving, and I vowed then and there never to do it—even after just one drink.”

  With a nod, I led her to the bar so that we could find some glasses and a corkscrew. Texting Tara along the way, I asked the chef if she could bring us a cheeseboard and fresh fruit tray.

  Leila and I settled in, sitting on tall barstools at the gorgeous dark wood bar. Leila had found the stereo system and put on some soft rock music. “I just love visiting this place. It’s like a hotel, don’t you think?” she asked me.

  “That’s what I said when I first saw it.” I chuckled, taking of sip and loving the salty undertones of the red wine. “Yummy.”

  “I know, right?” Leila asked. “I just love Napa Valley wine.”

  “A true Californian,” I added, smiling.

  Tara brought in the trays I requested, and Leila was quick to invite her to join us. “Tara, we’re going to be discussing the Thanksgiving holiday. Would you care to grab a glass and join us? Your input would be appreciated.”

  Going behind the bar, Tara got a glass and poured herself some wine. She took a pad of paper and a pen out of her apron and placed it on the top of the bar. “Okay, so we’re having it here then?”

  With a smile, I was happy to tell her the news, “We are. Our first holiday together, and I get to be the hostess. I’m so excited.”

  “Mom and Dad are coming, too,” Leila informed her. “The total headcount is thirteen. Even my elusive hubby will be home for once and will be there.”

  “So, I’ll get to meet the man behind the remarkable woman,” I said with a laugh.

  “That you will.”

  Tara tapped her nails on the bar. “Okay. Turkey is a must.”

  “Ham, too,” I added.

  Then Leila looked at me. “Tawny, please tell me your parents are going to come, too.” She looked at Tara. “Put down two more people. I forgot to add them.”

  Tara jotted that down. “Okay, fifteen people.”

  “Make it nineteen, Tara,” I quickly pointed out. “I certainly expect you and the rest of the staff would like to enjoy the meal, too.”

  A little smile crept across her lips. “Sweet of you. So, our final count is nineteen then.”

  “Do you think August wants to invite his business partners?” Leila asked me. “He used to go out every weekend with them. They’re all pretty close.”

  “I’ll ask him if he ever calls me.” And with that my cell buzzed. Pulling it out of my back pocket, I didn’t recognize the number, but saw that it was a local call. “Hello?”

  “Baby, have you missed me?” came August’s voice.

  I screamed and jumped off the barstool, too excited to stay sitting. “August! Yes! Yes, of course, I’ve missed you!” Glancing over at the two women who were laughing at me, I excused myself and headed to the next room, which happened to be a sitting area. “How are you, babe?”

  “Doing pretty good,” came his reply. “I’m feeling a little exhausted right now. A lot of memories are being dredged up. When I’m on the MDMA, I can take it all well. But afterward, when the drug wears off, then I feel drained.”

  That didn’t seem like progress to me, so I asked, “Do you feel like this is a waste of your time, August?”

  “No, they told me it would be like this at first. This is a process, and these first fourteen days are just the tip of the iceberg.” He sighed heavily. “The hardest part is being without you and Calum. I’m not sure why they think it’s so important to have us here without any kind of friends or family around, but they do think it’s important. I’ve asked quite a few times if you could at least come for a visit, only to be told that’s not allowed.”

  Biting my lower lip, I felt the same angst he did. “Well, most recovery programs want the person to know they have to handle things on their own. There can be emotional support, but the idea is to make you see that you’re okay all on your own, and that you don’t have to depend on anyone but yourself.”

  “I guess you’re right. I don’t know or care really. I’ve talked to a lot of people here this last week, about what they’ve gone through, too, and to say the overall atmosphere of depression is demoralizing is an understatement.” I could hear his breathing, and I longed to feel his warm breath on my neck.

  “Um, your sister’s here. We’re going to host Thanksgiving this year. Is that okay with you?” I asked him to get my mind off his breath and lips and everything else.

  Ugh! I needed him so badly.

  “Oh, are we?” he asked with a laugh. “So, Leila and her brood want to come trash our place, huh?”

  “They’re here now, the whole lot of them.” I chewed on my thumbnail as memories of his body on top of mine filled my head. “Oh, and do you want to invite your business partners? Leila said you’re pretty close to them.”


  “No, Gannon has big plans this year, and Nixon is flying home to Texas to be with his family. Thank you for asking though. That’s nice of you, baby.” Another long sigh came out of him. “God, I hope the next week goes by faster than this one. Once I get out, I have to come to therapy every day. The sessions last eight hours, so I’ll be gone all day.”

  “Even Thanksgiving?” I asked, despair filling my voice.

  “Yeah, even Thanksgiving. They told me it’d be from nine in the morning until five in the evening. Can we have the party during the dinner hour?” he asked.

  I wasn’t about to let him down. “Of course, I’ll make sure to tell them all that it’ll be a dinner party, with dinner being served at, say, eightish?”

  “That sounds good to me. Invite your parents, baby. I can’t wait to see them again. Your mom’s fudge was the best ever. She came over and gave us a batch every Christmas.”

  “And your mother gave us her famous peanut brittle, too,” I added.

  We did go way back. We did have a history. Maybe we hadn’t ever been a couple, but we’d spent a bit of time together as neighbors. Backyard barbeques and neighborhood block parties. Every New Year’s Eve watching the fireworks, all of us in our own backyards, but sharing things over the chain-link fence—the only thing that separated us from each other.

  “One more week,” he said quietly. “I can hold out that long. Can you, Tawny?”

  “I have to, don’t I?” I laughed to lighten things up. “So, how is it besides feeling so drained? Are there people there you can relate to?”

  “A couple of fellow former marines are here. We sit at the same table for all the meals. Natasha is thirty, and she’s married with kids. Her marriage is on the line because of her PTSD. Tom’s a kid who barely made it two years in the service. He’s seen shit that haunts him. I worry about them both. But not as much as I worry about Tillie. She’s this young girl whose father sold her into sex slavery when she was only ten. Can you believe someone would do that to their own child, baby? It’s too disgusting to even think about. And I’ll tell you, it makes me feel like a wimp that I’m having so many problems, when what I’ve been through is nothing compared to what she’s been through.”

  “You’re still human, August. You’ve still been through bad things yourself. Don’t lose sight of what you have to work on just because others have had it bad, too,” I gently chided him. “But that is a very sad thing for the poor girl.” My stomach knotted as I thought about what a horrible life she must’ve had, and how hard it would be to ever get over that.

  The world could be a terrible place. It would be wonderful if things could be perfect all the time, but that’s not the way of the world. And my poor man had been through awful things, too—things that would break the average person.

  August was beyond average. He was a hero through and through. If he could learn how to manage his bad memories, things would get better for him and for the rest of us, too.

  “When you come to pick me up, have Max drive you,” he told me.

  “Why is that?” I asked him as I pushed my hand through my hair, pretending it was his hand instead. My body tingled as I thought about him touching me.

  “Because I’m going to devour you completely on the ride home,” his voice had gone deep with lust.

  My panties were soaked with his words alone. “August!”

  “My doctors have been monitoring my sleep, too. They’re working on an idea to help me stop this nighttime shit I’ve been doing. They’re coming up with a plan that’ll let me keep you in my bed.” He groaned. “I want that so bad, baby. My arms hurt they want to hold you so damn bad. Fuck!”

  “It’s okay, August. One more week, and you’ll be home. Just work on learning how to use the pills to help you and use the therapy, too. I know you can beat this. I read a story…” I stopped myself. “Never mind. Let’s talk about something else.” When I thought about what I’d been about to say, I recalled that though the success story was great, it had taken the woman about thirty years to be completely free of PTSD.

  “Never mind?” he asked. “Why is that?”

  With a sigh, I went ahead and told him anyway. “Well, there was this success story I read. This woman had suffered an abusive upbringing. I mean—very abusive. It was a real horror story, what her father did to her until she was eighteen, and then he kicked her out of the house. Anyway, she was one of the first people to go through the program you’re going through now. It was just in its beginning stages though, so maybe that’s why it took her so long to be completely free of any PTSD symptoms. But that’s what I wanted you to hear about—she did become free of all the symptoms and didn’t have to take MDMA anymore either. The therapy you’re going through can work, and it can work to completely relieve you of all the symptoms, babe. Isn’t that great news?”

  “How long did it take her, Tawny?” he asked in a grim tone.

  “Thirty years,” I said quickly. “But that had to be because she’d been involved at the start of the whole program. They hadn’t worked out all the kinks, you know?”

  “Hmm,” came his uncertain answer. “Well, I’m not about to let it give me false hopes. Things haven’t been going that great for me. And the sexual arousal isn’t comfortable. Thank God I only have to take one of those pills a day, right before my session each day.”

  A thought grew in my head, and I blurted it out. “What if you took that pill at night? Say, just before you go to sleep? Maybe that would stop your nighttime episodes from occurring, and I’d be here to help you with that sexual arousal.” My body heated with the thought of how hot our love life would be if his doctors agreed with that.

  “That’s not how it works. I can’t even take the pills home anyway.” He stopped and then laughed. “But I get to come home after the sessions, and then you could definitely help me with that ‘little problem’.”

  “I don’t see it as a problem at all.” The idea had me excited already. “God, you have to go to therapy every day for…how long did they say?”

  He laughed. “You naughty little vixen. I have to go every day for two more weeks, then it goes down to every other day for a month, then every three days for the next month, and finally, it goes down to a day each month until I’m only going once a week.”

  “Sounds like fun to me. Why not make this into an exceptionally good thing, babe?” I asked him as I ran my hands all over my body, thinking of the evenings we were going to have.

  Things were looking up!

  Chapter 26

  August

  My body must’ve gotten used to the MDMA by the second week of therapy, because things started to change. My mind felt different; my thoughts became more evident. Besides the need to drink more water, there were no other side effects, other than a sense of peace—and that lingering arousal.

  The last day of therapy saw me sitting on the sofa in Dr. Baker’s quarters. We didn’t go into an office for the sessions—the spaces were more like living rooms in someone’s home instead.

  “So, you say five men were coming through the small village, killing only the male children?” he asked me.

  I’d been telling him about one of the missions that stood out in my memory. This was one I’d hidden from myself because it was just too hard to think about. But now, I was able to not only think about it, but talk about it without feeling that overwhelming hopelessness I usually felt when I thought about such terrible things.

  “Yeah, and me and the three other marines who’d been sent to deal with those men were pretty mad. You know—because they were killing innocent children. Taking sons away from fathers and mothers who loved them.” I leaned forward, putting my elbows on my knees then putting my face in my hands as powerful emotion suddenly flooded me.

  “It’s okay to let that sadness out. Let it escape your mind, August. Of course, you felt sorrow for the parents, the siblings of the boys, and the boys themselves. That’s completely natural,” Doctor Baker told me in a calm vo
ice.

  Tears streamed from my eyes. I felt sorrow, no doubt, but there was another emotion at the forefront. Love.

  No sobs came from me, only tears as emotion filled me. It was the oddest thing I’d ever felt. Gulping, I sat back, grabbed some tissues from the box that sat on the sofa beside me, and dabbed my eyes. “So, these men hardly resembled humans at all. In my eyes, they looked like demons. I suppose that was what my brain did to make it okay to kill them. Dehumanize them to make it okay.”

  “Well, that’s interesting, isn’t it, August?” the doc asked me. “Turning a man into a monster would make it easier for you to do your job—which was, ultimately, to save lives.”

  “It did.” I dried the rest of the tears as they stopped flowing. “I took two of them out as I hid behind a partial wall of someone’s home, blown up in another battle sometime before. This village was war-ravaged, and I couldn’t begin to fathom this happening in America.”

  “Why did it make you think of America?” he asked me.

  I paused for a moment, working through that question as best I could before answering him. “In America, we’re much more protected—by our laws, our rights. We’re even able to have weapons of our own, while that country’s people are just sitting ducks for terrorists. Their government doesn’t seem to care about protecting them, and can’t seem to comprehend what these people need to help them survive or to overcome. It’s aggravating, annoying, and makes it real difficult to feel much empathy—how can we help a country that doesn’t seem willing to help itself? But when you see a family who’s been victimized, the empathy is there. But I have none for those who govern them.”

  “So, there are feelings that conflict you,” Doctor Baker pointed out. “Confliction within one’s self is never easy to deal with. Perhaps you should talk about this conflict, and you might figure out how to end it.”

  “On one hand, you have a government that makes its citizens easy targets, and that’s a crime in my book. On the other hand, you have people who haven’t lived freely in their entire existence.” I sat there, thinking about that for a long time. The doctor sat quietly, patiently, never rushing me or giving me any words of wisdom. And as the time went by, I swear I felt a click in my head. “But maybe this isn’t for me to understand. Things happen, and we aren’t supposed to understand all of what happens. And that’s just life. I can’t solve all the world’s problems—can’t fight all the world’s battles.”