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I had dropped Nick off at a club more times than I could count. Seen pictures of him dancing and draped over so many women, I couldn’t possibly tell you all of their names. To be fair, neither could he. I’d picked him up even more times, after receiving a drunken phone call in the middle of the night—slurring that he’d misplaced his driver, and fired his keys.
But never, not once in two years, had I gone inside.
The lights were dim, and the air was sticky and hot. It was the kind of place that just reeked of trouble. The kind of place I was always nervous for Nick to go.
He weaved us through the gyrating crowd and walked us to the bar with the skill and ease of one who had done it many, many times before. Normally, it would feel strange to be holding his hand, but under the circumstances, I held on for dear life.
The bartender muttered something in Spanish, and Nick turned to me with a nod.
“What would you like to drink?”
I could barely hear him over the deafening music. I settled for reading his lips.
A dozen options glittered before me. All of them printed in Spanish lettering. I shrugged and pointed to the brightest bottle I could find. Nick grinned and held up his fingers for two.
Three shots and five cocktails later—the two of us were feeling pretty damn good about ourselves. And pretty damn clever that we’d left our NYC trouble behind and escaped to Spain.
“I tooootally get why you do this now,” I slurred, leaning against him as our faces flashed alternatingly red and gold in the lights. “This whole running away thing.”
“I’m not running away,” he countered, looking offended at the very idea. I raised my eyebrows and gestured to the club and he laughed. “Okay, maybe a little. But it works, right?” He stepped us away from the bar, holding onto my wrists for mutual balance. “When you woke up this morning, did you have any idea that by tonight, we would be at a nightclub in Spain?”
A sudden thought seized me, and I looked away with intoxicated concern.
“...I have so much work to do, and I ended up in Spain...”
“Abby!” he reclaimed my attention, throwing out his arms in victory as we gazed around the club. “Stop worrying, alright? We’re here already, it’s done.”
I bit my lip, reaching tentatively for my phones, but he slapped my hand away.
“No work tonight. You have to promise me, okay?” I did my standard, dismissive nod, but he saw through it with a drunken grin. “Promise. Say it.”
I hesitated, considered, then gave in.
“I promise.”
“Yes!” His face lit up with a beaming smile, the kind that stood out even in the darkness, making everything beside it pale a little in comparison. “This is going to be great! We can—”
At that moment, a group of rowdy men rushed towards the bar behind me, pushing me unintentionally into Nick’s arms.
He caught me automatically, then looked down with a bit of surprise. We were pressed right up against each other. Nothing between us but a thin layer of clothes. For a second, he looked like he was about to release me. Then he leaned suddenly forward to speak in my ear.
“Do you want to dance?”
My eyes flickered to the dance floor—where people weren’t really dancing, but were either leaping straight up into the air, or rubbing against each other so sexually that it really shouldn’t be permitted in public. A wave of nerves flared up in my stomach, and my fingers tightened without thinking on his shirt.
Could Nick and I really do something like that? Was that remotely possible?
No wait! Never hook up with your playboy boss. Never drink with your boss. Never dance with your boss. Never look at him the way I was looking at him. This would likely end in disaster. Yep. It was the perfect recipe for total disaster.
The beautiful man in front of you is YOUR CLIENT!
We were never destined to be together, just like Romeo and Juliet. We needed to stay friends. I needed to navigate this mine field carefully, tread lightly. This was way too risky. I dare not take that big leap of faith. We couldn’t cross that line. It would only end in heart break (on my end) and possibly my job. Why was he making this so hard on me? Was I setting myself up to fail? Why couldn’t I look away? I wanted to throw all the rules right out the window.
Damn those beautiful eyes of his!
I was mesmerized, completely smitten. It was like he was casting a spell on me. His lips hovered so close to mine. Just inches away. Should I kiss him? Perhaps more importantly, could I do that right now without falling down? The two of us already had an awful lot to drink...
“So, do you want to dance or not?” he smiled.
“I...I’m not...”
“I’ll take that as a yes!”
His hand seized mine, and the next thing I knew, we were weaving to the center of the crowd—a place pulsating with lights, music, and people. The crowd parted like water before us, before closing back around, sealing us in with the rest of them. My fingers twisted around Nick’s, desperate not to lose him in such a dense crowd, but I needn’t have worried.
The second we were there, he turned around and pulled me suddenly into his chest.
My breath caught in my throat as we hovered there for a second. The heat of his skin seeping through my thin clothes. His heartbeat pounding against my skin.
Then, as the lights around us flickered, the two of us began to sway.
Bright flashes of neon green lit up his hair and glowed in his eyes, as he leaned down so his forehead was touching mine. His hands wound slowly around my waist, inching me closer still, and what started out as an innocent dance soon turned into something else entirely.
It was hard to say who made the first move. Things were happening so fast, and we were being pressed together from all sides. All I know, is that before the end of that first minute, his hips were grinding against mine. We were so close together...close enough that our hair began to dampen with sweat, and the sexual tension was brewing.
Faster and faster we went. Moving with the music.
His lips curled up in a grin, and the next thing I knew, he flipped me around—pulling me into him once more so my back was against his chest. If it was possible, the dancing got even dirtier. A fog machine had started up from the stage, and in the haze and chaos of the crowd, his fingers slipped around my bare waist, teasing the top of my jeans. Before I knew what was happening, I arched my back and reached my hand up behind me, running it through his wavy hair. He picked up the pace then, trailing his fingers down my side as we ground together again.
A second later, he’d flipped me back around. We were facing now, staring wide into each other’s eyes. As the crowd around us screamed and surged, his lips brushed softly against my forehead. I stared up at him, and the next kiss was on my cheek. Then my other cheek.
We’d stopped moving now. In fact, it felt like the entire club had stopped moving, and the two of us were standing together—lost in time.
His face was only an inch or two from mine. I could smell sweet whiskey on his breath. The chemistry between us was mind-blowing. Insane. Undeniable. Electrifying.
Damn, did I want to kiss him. BAD. Very badly.
But kissing the boss was a BAD idea, a very bad idea.
We were about to officially cross boundaries.
My entire career would be on the line. If things go sour...
Should I say damn to the consequences and follow my heart?
Our eyes met only for a second—frozen, like he was asking for permission. Then he took my face in both hands and leaned down once more...
“...I’m so sorry, but I can’t do this!”
I was out of his arms the next second, weaving my way back through the crowd until I finally reached the exit and burst through the door. The freezing air hit me like a slap to the face.
Waking me up. Bringing me to my senses.
What the fuck are you doing, Abby?! He’s your fucking client!
He’s also my friend...
Did I mention he’s your ONLY client?! And Mitchell Hunter’s SON?!
“Abby?”
I whirled around to see Nick standing there by the door. The ID stamp to get into the club was still shining bright on his wrist, and tiny clouds of steam were rising off his body.
He was everything a girl could ever want. Beautiful. Funny. Sweet. Trustworthy. Oh, and did I mention the guy was fucking hot?!
But none of that mattered, right? Because he was a client, and we were drunk, and we were heading back to New York in the morning.
...right?
“I’m sorry, Nick.” I turned with drunken tears in my eyes and started walking back across the street, both shaken and overwhelmed by what had almost happened. “I have no idea what got into me. That was obviously so wildly inappropriate, I can’t even—”
“Hey,” he caught my wrist and spun me back around, catching up to me before I’d taken more than a few steps, “what happened to what happens in Spain, stays in Spain?”
I stared up into his eyes, searching, like I might find answers there.
“Nick—this is me. And you. We can’t do this. This isn’t us.”
He lips parted for a second, before he bowed his head. Unable to refute it. Unable to claim that it wasn’t true. But a second later, he muttered something under his breath, something so quiet, I almost wasn’t able to hear.
“But it could be.”
I lifted my head, still shivering with the sudden temperature change. “What?”
His face lit up, and he stared down with sudden confidence. The kind of confidence I’d learned to fear. The kind I’d learned to crave.
“When we get back to New York, you’re just going to find another girl for me, aren’t you? Someone else to keep the board happy for three more months until the merger?”
My face blanched, caught completely off guard. Of course, professionally speaking, that would be the best scenario. If Mitchell had anything to say about it, it was probably the only way I’d be able to keep my job. But after Ella, I didn’t think Nick would even consider it.
“Um...yeah,” I replied slowly. “I mean, if you’re amenable, then I—”
“I’ll do it,” he said with that same surge of adrenaline, the one that had gotten him in trouble more times than we both could count. “Under one condition.”
My eyes met his in the dark, unable to keep up with the speed of his decisions.
“Of course—anything you want.”
He didn’t miss a beat. Didn’t even pause.
“I want to pick the girl this time.”
That might actually make things difficult. With my reputation, I was able to get most anyone he’d be interested in. But knowing Nick, there was some sort of catch that would make it almost impossible to get it done. Already, my mind was racing with the heads of different casting agencies and labels. Managers and other publicists across the board. Ready to call in favors.
“Alright.” I gazed up at him. “I can get you whoever you want. And I won’t stray from your request. I’ll get her onboard no matter what. You just name her and I’ll make it happen.”
He grinned. “You promise to make it happen?”
“Yes. Without a doubt. I should’ve let you choose the girl from the beginning. Just name her, and I’ll make you hers. Just make sure she’s not married or isn’t in a serious relationship.”
“She’s not.”
“Good. Then she’s putty in my hands.”
I knew no woman would turn down my proposal. I would bribe her with millions if I had too. Nick would pay it without blinking an eye. And not one of his exes would say no to cold hard cash, wining and dining her, expensive gifts, and lots of diamonds. If he was comfortable with this woman, and didn’t dread being with her, like Ella, then we would pull this off without a hitch. Everyone would be happy and my job would be safe and secure. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, things were finally getting back on track. I would secure this girl no matter what the cost. I refused to take no for an answer.
“Okay, so who do you have in mind?” I asked.
His eyes twinkled down at me, haloed by the Barcelona moon.
“You.”
To be continued...
Part 2 is available now!
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