I hated when other people were right.
“What about you?” Xavier asked. “No Halloween plans with the girls?”
“No. They’re with their families.” A small pang hit my gut. “Vivian and Dante took Josie to this Halloween thing at the zoo. Kai and Isa have a Mode de Vie event, and Dominic and Alessandra are at Valhalla’s fall gala.” Kai and Isabella technically weren’t married yet, but they might as well be.
I was the odd one out. I didn’t mind it; I would rather be single and content than in a relationship and miserable. But there were slivers of time when I wondered how it would feel to exist in the world knowing there was someone who loved me totally, unconditionally, and whole-heartedly for who I was instead of who they wanted me to be.
“Speaking of Dante, did you figure out why he’s on the inheritance committee?” I asked, eager to think about something—anything—else.
“No, I haven’t spoken to him yet. I’ve been focusing on next week’s meetings.” Xavier’s leg brushed mine again, and there was that stupid zing again. He glanced at me, the moving images onscreen throwing his features into light, then shadow, then light again. “He did a lot of business with my father, so I assume that’s part of the reason.”
“Maybe. I can ask Vivian—”
“Luna.” He gently hooked his pinky around mine beneath the blanket, and my knowledge of how to breathe evaporated. “This is a date. No more work talk.”
“Right.” In and out. You know how to do this. “Are you ever going to tell me why you call me Luna?”
“One day.” His dimples winked into view. “If you’re really nice to me.”
I tamped down a smile. “I’m nice to you right now.” “You forgot a word.”
“Really nice. What does that entail, a blow job?”
My quip trailed off when I realized my mistake. Discussing blow jobs with Xavier? Bad idea.
Abort, abort! Alarm bells clanged in my head, but it was too late.
Something intense swallowed the humor in his eyes, and my already-scarce supply of oxygen dwindled to emergency levels.
Neither of us was paying attention to the movie at this point. Unfortunately, that meant all my attention had rerouted to 1) the delicious warmth of Xavier’s body, which had inched close enough to short-circuit my brain, and 2) a salacious mental gallery of images that revolved around me, him, and a certain activity with the initials BJ.
My blood sang with sudden heat.
“Perhaps, but not tonight.” His silky murmur ghosted down my spine. “I don’t pass first base on the first date. What kind of man do you think I am?”
“You’re telling me you’ve never done more than kiss someone on the first date.” It wasn’t a question, but the voice that delivered it was so breathless, I didn’t recognize it as mine.
“I have, but that was years ago, we weren’t dating, and I wasn’t trying to woo them.”
Another type of warmth, one that had nothing to do with arousal, pooled in my stomach. “Is that what you’re trying to do? Woo me?”
“Depends.” A smile played on his lips. “Is it working?”
Yes. “No.”
“Liar.”
“A suitor shouldn’t call the object of his wooing a liar. It’s poor etiquette.”
“I’m honest when the situation calls for it, and you’d die of boredom if someone simply agreed with everything you said and did.” His pinky, still hooked around mine, curled just a bit tighter. I wished I minded.
“You think you know me so well,” I whispered, even though he was right.
“Only parts of you.” The gentle brush of his thumb against my hand unlocked a colony of butterflies in my stomach. “But we’ll get there.”
The implication that we would last until that point sent my defenses into overdrive, but the evening was so nice, and his touch felt so good, I ignored it.
It was only when the witch movie ended and the Christmas one began that I realized I’d watched a rom-com without writing a review for the first time in five years.
CHAPTER 22
Xavier
If I had my way, I’d spend the next two months focused solely on Sloane.
We ended our movie date Saturday night with nothing more than a chaste kiss on the cheek, but it was the best damn date I’d ever had. She was warming up to me, and that was what mattered. I’ll be honest—I wasn’t used to chasing women. From the moment I hit puberty, I’d been inundated with female attention.
Dating was easy, and sex was even easier, so this whole trial thing with Sloane was uncharted territory.
Were it anyone else, I would simply let them go. But she wasn’t anyone else, and I was already making plans for our next date. We had two months, so I needed to make the most out of them.
Unfortunately, I had to deal with the pesky issue of my nightclub. Namely, securing the proper licenses, location, financing, and a million other things that came with starting a business.
That was how I found myself in Valhalla again the Wednesday after my date, face-to-face with the man who could make or break my plans before they even started.
Name number one on Kai’s list.
Vuk Markovic, also known as the Serb, sat across from me in his office, his eerie blue eyes devoid of emotion as I explained my idea. He’d eschewed the typical CEO uniform of a suit and tie in favor of a black sweater and pants. A brutal scar slashed his face into two halves, and a coil of burn scars wrapped around his neck.
I tried my hardest not to stare. Luckily, it got easier when I hit my flow. I hadn’t pitched a business plan since college, but I was a fast learner and a comfortable public speaker.
I needed a partner for legitimacy, and Vuk was perfect for the job. He was the current chairman of Valhalla’s management committee, which arguably made him the most powerful man in the city. He had over a decade of experience under his belt and a sterling reputation for being fair but ruthless when the occasion called for it.
Of course, he needed a compelling reason to go into business with me beyond a mutual acquaintance. Kai had gotten me in the door; it was up to me to close it.
“Markovic Holdings is launching its new nonalcoholic vodka next summer. The timing lines up perfectly with the Vault’s launch,” I said. I’d named the club the Vault after its (hopeful) location. “We can host an exclusive preview and have a bespoke bar highlighting the drink. Sloane Kensington is in charge of the opening; it’ll be the nightlife event of the season. Every tastemaker who matters will be there, and it’ll be the first of our Tastemaker Series.”
The idea was simple—a monthly event series where attendees would receive early and/or exclusive access to everything from food to performances to fashion previews, all while sipping Castillo beer and Markovic alcohol.
My family specialized in beer, but Vuk helmed a massive liquor empire that ranged from cheap wine any college student could buy to fine champagne so rare, only a handful of bottles were produced annually. Next year, they were diversifying into the rapidly growing zero-proof alcohol sector, and the company was putting big money into making it a success.
The signature Tastemaker Series would take place on a separate night from general nightclub revelry, but its purpose wasn’t to draw regular parties. It catered to the media and influencers, who always liked being the first to try anything new; their attendance, plus the ever-evolving nature of the events, would create fresh buzz every month and keep the club at the forefront of people’s minds.
At least, that was the plan.
Vuk waited until I finished my spiel before firing rounds of methodical questions at me.
