When I finally woke up a couple hours later, I ordered room service and watched an old episode of Arrested Development that was on TV while I waited for the time to pass, then quickly changed the channel as soon as the George Michael and Maebe stuff started happening. The kissing cousins was hitting way too close to home for me right now.
Instead I changed over to a Law and Order marathon and watched a few episodes of that. Repeats from a few years ago. It didn’t matter, I had never really watched the show anyway, so they were all new to me.
Finally, I couldn’t put it off any longer. It was ten o’clock, and I had to be ready to go clubbing in under an hour. I showered again, washed my hair, and agonized over what to wear. I wasn’t the typical super skinny bikini wearing model that frequented Miami nightclubs. My idea of risqué club wear was a shirt with the first three buttons undone. I had never really been into the party atmosphere, or anything like that. I was far too nerdy for that.
Still, I knew I had to fit in and I rummaged through my pile of clothes to find something appropriate. One good thing about saving so much money was that I was able to get myself basically a whole new wardrobe.
Finally, I settled on a somewhat short skirt and a flower print top with a pretty revealing neckline, showing off the cleavage that was hands down my best feature. At least there was one advantage to being on the chubby side.
I admired myself in the mirror before doing my makeup. Sure, I didn’t look like the supper sluttiest girl that had ever gone out, but I had to admit, I thought I looked pretty sexy in my own way with the clothes I’d chosen.
Obviously I wasn’t the only one. When I went down to the lobby and met Kiegan, along with an entourage of people he’d decided were coming with me, he definitely gave me the once over, and I saw his lips purse in a silent whistle.
A small blush crawled up my face at both his reaction, and at seeing him again. Operation Pretend Nothing Happened was not starting off great.
“Hey, you ready?” I asked, hoping my voice didn’t betray how nervous I was to even just be talking to him again.
“Yeah. Cars are outside.”
“Good, let’s get going then.”
Well, that could have been worse. It also could have been better.
I made sure Kiegan and I ended up in different cars as we were driven to the club in giant SUVs with enough space to comfortably hold ten people each. I leaned my head back and listened to the idle conversation of Kiegan’s new crew while they enjoyed the free champagne offered in bottles on the way over.
When we got to the club everything was bustling. A line a hundred people deep was growing on the sidewalk as guys and girls waiting to get in were stopped by a Maori bouncer so huge he probably weighed four times what I did.
As soon as I mentioned Kiegan Hunt’s name we were zipped past the velvet red rope blocking the entrance, much to the chagrin of the people waiting outside.
For a nerd like me, as soon as we got inside, I immediately thought about the fact that there was no way this club was actually obeying fire regulations. Everything was completely and totally packed. People were pressed against one another, and the music pounding through the speakers was so loud they probably still wouldn’t have been able to hear each other without yelling.
Against the far wall the bar was packed at least three people deep, I figured to get a drink it would be at least a ten minute wait. Coloured lights bounced around the room from some mysterious source, shining on the dance floor as people grinded to a remix of Uptown Funk.
I looked around like a deer in headlights. I was so far out of my element here, I wondered if I should have even come. I probably could have just let Kiegan go by himself, he was a big boy, he could handle it. Hell, he was a lot better at this stuff than I was.
Instead, I tried to make my way to the back of the room. Before I got a chance, however, someone noticed Kiegan and squealed out his name. I found myself suddenly squished in with what felt like a thousand gorgeous girls, all of whom were desperate to get at Kiegan. Before I knew it he’d been dragged over to the dance floor, and I got the slightest glimpse of him dancing away as I made my way to the edge of the room, hoping to find Karen, the manager I’d spoken to on the phone.
After asking a couple employees I was led into a hallway at the back, where I found Karen in a cramped office on the phone, looking both like she could go out there and party at any time, and frazzled enough that she would never step foot on the floor if she had her way.
Holding up one finger, I waited while she ended her phone call, then she looked at me with a gaze displaying both idle curiosity and complete indifference.
“Yes?” she asked.
“I’m Tina Hunt, Kiegan Hunt’s manager,” I told her. Suddenly her demeanour changed completely, and she was as charming and polite as could be.
“Of course, welcome Tina. I hope Kiegan is enjoying himself so far at our venue.”
“He looked like it the last time I saw him,” I replied with a wry smile. I couldn’t help the pang of jealousy that had run through me when I saw a group of skinny blonde girls grinding up next to him.
“Good. I’ll make sure that we have a VIP room at the back set up for him as well. Free champagne, of course. Is there anything else you’ll need?”
“No, that’s it, thank you.”
“Our pleasure. As you requested, I made sure to call the local papers and paparazzi, they were going to show up anyway because they wanted to get a look at Pitbull, but now they know that Kiegan will be here as well. I’ve made sure that there will be pictures of him printed online.”
“Excellent, thank you Karen.”
With that I stood up and shook her hand, and knowing there was nothing else for me to do, I made my way back to the pounding music and crowded dance floor.
Of course, I wanted to let Kiegan know we had a VIP room. That was exactly where I intended to spend all my time, I had no desire whatsoever to go out and dance with some drunk idiots. Clubbing just wasn’t my scene. If it were up to me, I’d be curled up in bed with a glass of white wine and a good book, but unfortunately, that doesn’t get your boss’ picture on the front page of TMZ.
Squishing my way through the crowds, I found myself in the middle of a group of people dancing away to the latest Katy Perry hit. I spotted Kiegan through the crowd and forced my way through.
“There’s a VIP room set up for you, whenever you want it,” I yelled into his ear as he spotted me, not even breaking a beat.
“Sweet, thanks sis. Wanna dance?”
“Absolutely not,” I yelled back.
“Good,” he replied, grabbing me by the waist and pulling me closer towards him.
“Wait, I said no!” I exclaimed, trying to pull away from him.
“I know what you said, and I know what you really want,” he said into my ear, and I knew he was right. Damn him, he was right. How did he know? Why did he have this effect on me?
“Fine, one song,” I conceded, trying to turn off the voice in my brain yelling at me to stop it, yelling at me to go to the VIP room and play 94% on my phone until it was time to go.
As we moved together, our bodies as one on the dance floor, it was like everyone else disappeared. I didn’t think about anything other than the beat, and the man standing in front of me, the man I’d had sex with less than twelve hours earlier, the most taboo kind of sex.
The beat pounded in my ears as his hands found my hips, the feeling of his fingers on my skin bringing back memories from before, and I knew that if I didn’t get away after one song, I was going to be in trouble.
Three songs later I finally pulled away.
“I’m done,” I yelled at Kiegan. “I’ll be in the VIP room.”
He just smiled at me and nodded before I turned and made my way up an old set of stairs to the loft guarded by a bouncer.
“I’m with Kiegan Hunt, I’m his PA Tina,” I told the guy, who nodded and let me in. “Second door on the left,” he told me, and I walked through a hallway tha
t quite frankly reminded me of what I imagined the private area of a strip club must have looked like. White carpets with pink and UV fluorescent light shining all over it, white walls, and solid doors that led into windowless rooms. I knew this was one of the hottest clubs in Miami, and if this was what passed for hip and modern, and not the clubbing equivalent of 80s porn, well then I was well out of the loop.
I opened the second door to the left and found myself in a room that was at least quite a bit classier than the hallway. The walls were black, black lights shone down on me, and a whole bunch of dark purple and blue bean bag chairs and couches were spread out throughout the room. Three bottles of champagne sat in bowls of slowly melting ice, with dozens of glasses set on small tables around the couches.
A floor-to-ceiling window, obviously one-way, gave me a perfect view of the whole dance floor. Pitbull was well above everyone else in the DJ booth, spinning his own music in with those of other popular bands, the crowd screaming his name from time to time. I stood at the window and watched the partiers. I could see Kiegan, dancing away with some random chick, and forced my jealousy down. At least he’s not touching her, I told myself to make myself feel better.
Why do you care? This is Operation Nothing Happened, remember? So Kiegan can do whatever he wants, just like he always has.
I sighed as my brain tried to act as the voice of reason. It was too bad my body never seemed to agree.
I turned away from the window and sat down on one of the couches. The music blasted into this room through the speakers, but it wasn’t quite as deafeningly loud as down on the floor.
Looking at the champagne, I decided I deserved a drink. I popped it open and poured myself a glass. Sipped it slowly as I lay down on the couch and closed my eyes. How the hell had my life gotten so complicated? It was my birthday, the start of my twenties, and this was definitely not what I had envisaged to start off the greatest decade of my life.
Suddenly thinking, I pulled out my phone. 2:08am. Nope, it wasn’t my birthday anymore. Whatever, it was still the night of my birthday, I was still allowed to have some champagne.
I also realized with a laugh that I wasn’t even twenty one yet. I shouldn’t have been in here at all. Oh well, no one had carded me. Luckily.
I toasted myself and decided to have a second glass of champagne. Why the hell not, after all it was free, and it looked like I was going to be hanging out in here by myself for a while.
About ten minutes later, however, the door opened and Kiegan walked in.
Great.
“Hey, sis,” he greeted me, grabbing the open bottle of champagne and sitting on the couch across from me. “Enjoying the party?”
“Does it look like I’m enjoying the party?” I asked.
“Nope, but then again, you never look like you enjoy yourself ever when you’re around me.”
“Maybe you should take that as a hint.”
“Except for this afternoon, of course.”
The flush crawled up my cheeks immediately. Damn my Irish heritage that made me flame up like a tomato instantly.
“That was a mistake. It never should have happened. It will never happen again.”
“Whatever you say, little sister.”
“Stop calling me that, I’ve told you enough.”
“You forget, I’m your boss. I can call you whatever I want.”
“Then you wonder why I hate being around you.”
Suddenly, the music stopped. My ears began to ring in the silence, and some noise began to waft up to where we were from the floor. Kiegan and I jumped up and went to the window.
“What’s going on?” I asked no one in particular, I knew Kiegan had no more of a clue than I did.
“I don’t know. But no matter what, stay here,” Kiegan ordered, and he rushed to the door.
“Wait!” I cried. “It could be dangerous.”
“Awww… I didn’t know you cared,” he replied with that same smarmy grin I hated, and then he was gone.
I watched as my brother flew down the stairs. Bouncers were flooding in, but they were so big, and the crowd so thick, that they barely made any movement. Suddenly I realized what was happening. In the middle of the dance floor was a guy, bald headed, his body covered in tattoos, wearing a wife beater and combat boots. I didn’t need to see the swastika tattooed on his neck to know he was some kind of white power dude. But I was more focused on the gun he was holding, pointing it at a blonde girl cowering on the floor, obviously begging him not to shoot her.
My heart jumped in my throat for her. His hands were shaking, he was obviously furious at her about something, and the group of people around were too obviously scared to do anything. Everyone just watched as he continued to yell.
Suddenly, I saw my brother come in from behind and knock the man’s hand down. I gasped as Kiegan’s surprise attack knocked the man over, and they struggled on the floor. My face was practically pressed against the glass as I tried to see what was happening, but the distance and the group of people who suddenly swarmed around the fight stopped me from getting a good look.
When the gun went off, though, that was when all hell broke loose. I knew Kiegan had told me to stay up here, and I knew it was safest if I did what he asked, but I was still worried. I ran out of the room and down the stairs. The bouncer guarding the VIP entrance was long gone, probably trying to make his way to the gunman as well.
Everyone in the club was careening towards the exits. It was a complete madhouse, I was pretty sure if anyone fell over they’d be trampled to death. People pushed against me, and while I wasn’t exactly sure where I was going, I figured if I went away from people running to the exits I’d be heading in the right general direction.
Eventually all the people running past had dispersed, and there were only a few people left on the floor. The neo-Nazi was on his back, with about four enormous bouncers holding him down on the floor. Karen was on her phone in the corner. About two feet away, with another bouncer helping him, was Kiegan, holding his arm and wincing as blood flowed through his fingers.
“Holy shit, Kiegan, are you ok?” I exclaimed, rushing over to him. He smiled ruefully.
“Never been better.”
I rolled my eyes and looked around to find something to stem the bleeding with. Before I got a chance, however, a couple of paramedics showed up, followed closely by some police officers.
Karen immediately got off the phone, relieved, and made her way over to the paramedics.
“He’s the one who was shot,” she told them, pointing to Kiegan. Then she turned to the cops. “I’ve got my main tech guy coming in, he’s going to get you all of the security footage straight away, but that’s the man there,” she told them, pointing to the neo-Nazi on the floor, who was still groaning and struggling to get away from the men on top of him.
I had to admire Karen’s composure as I just stood around with my mouth wide open, watching Kiegan, watching as the paramedics made their way over to him and loaded him up on a stretcher. I was so caught up in watching him that it took a second for me to realize that one of the police officers was talking to me.
“Miss, did you see what happened?”
“Um, somewhat. I was up there,” I replied, pointing to the VIP rooms. “I saw from the window.”
“Good, I’d like to take your statement please.”
“Can I… go with him?” I asked, motioning to Kiegan who was being hauled away. Why did I care? I didn’t even like the guy. Hell, I hated him. Two months ago I probably would have gone out to celebrate if I’d learned he was shot.
“I’d rather take your statement straight away if you don’t mind. Then I’ll have an officer drive you to the hospital to see him.”
Noticing my worried face, he added, “don’t worry miss, I’ve seen plenty of people shot in the arm, and none of them have died.”
I laughed a dry laugh that I could tell made me sound like a crazy person.
“I don’t even know why I care,” I whispered,
and I could feel the tears welling up in my eyes. Maybe it was too much champagne. Maybe it was the emotions of the day. But all I wanted to do was go home and cry my eyes out.
Instead I spent fifteen minutes with the man who turned out to be Detective Lane, recounting everything that had happened. It was funny, even though I was telling him what I’d seen, repeating one of the most traumatic experiences of my life in my brain, it still didn’t feel real. It felt like I was telling a story, or repeating the plot to a TV show.
Finally, Detective Lane thanked me, and escorted me to a waiting cop car with lights flashing. I got in the back and breathed a huge sigh.
“I’m sorry about your… boyfriend?” the officer in the front seat ventured, a woman in her early 30s.
“Boss. And brother. Stepbrother, really,” I clarified.
“Oh, sorry,” the officer blushed.
“No, it’s no problem. Thanks for the ride.”
“My pleasure. I’m heading over to take his statement anyway, so when Detective Lane asked me to hold on a bit I didn’t mind. I imagine the doctors will be taking a bit of time stitching him up anyway.”
“Do you know if he’s ok?”
The officer nodded. “Yeah. I heard through the radio from my partner that it’s just a through-and-through, missed the major arteries, he’s just going to have a pretty sore arm for a while.”
“Good,” I muttered to myself, but still unable to ignore the relief that washed over me. Maybe it was just a natural human reaction. Maybe if I had really wanted him seriously hurt or dead there would have been something wrong with me.
When we got to the hospital, I followed the officer into the emergency room, where a nurse directed us down the hall. We found Kiegan sitting up on a bed being stitched up by a doctor. He was shirtless, dried blood on his arm, his muscles clenching from the pain, the tattoos covering his chest moving with every little twitch of his muscles.
He looked over at me and grinned.
“Hey,” he nodded. The officer took out her notebook.
“Mr. Hunt, I’d like to get a statement from you about what happened.”
“Sure. He was threatening the chick with his gun, I went down there to stop him, we struggled, the gun went off, and luckily it only hit my arm.” He flashed her that smile that made all the panties of every girl at the Moreton Academy wet when we were kids, and I pushed the fact that his list of conquests now included me to the back of my head.
BOSS: A Stepbrother Billionaire Romance Page 9
