Page 17 of Devil Seeks Nanny

“Trying to get pregnant is hard work, okay?” Cathy sniffs, chin raised, though her mouth tugs up in a smile. “And besides, once I do get pregnant, I won’t be able to have nights out like this for a long time, alright? So let me live a little.” She turns to face me, sitting right next to me. “And you, my friend, deserve it the most out of all of us.”

My smile softens at her words, appreciating the concern in her eyes, just as a woman walks up to our table, asking us what drinks we’d like. The woman is quick with bringing back the bottles we requested—vodka, tequila, and some bottles of juices as well to mix our drinks. Once my Malibu Bay Breeze is in my hand, I quickly sip it, reveling in the fruity taste with the hint of alcohol peeking through.

“We need to do shots!” Julie exclaims once we’ve all made our drinks. The music pulses through the club, and I swear I can feel the couch vibrating beneath me. “Tequila?”

I immediately shake my head, holding my drink up. “I’m drinking vodka.” No way am I about to mix alcohols—that’s a surefire way of my head ending up in the toilet tonight.

Willa and I are both drinking vodka, while Julie and Cathy are drinking tequila, so we split up our shots accordingly. Willa pours two vodka shots for herself and me, while Cathy pours tequila shots for her and Julie, who gets the salt and limes ready for them.

I scoot forward and grab my shot glass, careful not to spill the vodka over, and as we hold up our glasses, Cathy asks, “What’re we toasting to?”

Julie grins widely, shooting me a wink. “To Diana’s boss for funding this night!”

The girls laugh, and I don’t think too deeply into the flush that warms my cheeks as I clink my glass with theirs before downing the drink. I squeeze my eyes shut as the vodka burns down my throat, the harsh taste lingering, and I quickly drown it down by sipping my mixed drink. I haven’t drunk in a while, and I feel warm already from the shot and the fact that I’m already halfway done with my cocktail.

I can already tell that tonight is going to be a long night.

Chapter 12

DIANA

I’m dancing with a nameless stranger when I look up and see Bruno Cataldi watching me.

Part of me thinks it’s the alcohol rushing through my veins that’s playing tricks on me. Because there’s no way that he would be here, on the second level of the Hideaway, watching me. But then again, why wouldn’t he be here? It’s his club, after all. Except, that would mean he left his kids at home, definitely not unattended, and came to the same club he knew I was going to be at. Why?

My ass grinds into the crotch of the guy I’m dancing with—I think he said his name was Derek, but I could’ve definitely misheard over the thundering music, or it could be the name of the other guy I had been dancing with earlier—and his hands grip my hips. He’s as drunk as I am—as all of my friends are, who dance nearby; Willa and Cathy together since they’re in relationships, and Julie with another stranger. But as I lean my back into Derek, moving my hips to the rhythm of the song, my gaze slides up again, and I feel like it locks with Bruno once more.

I feel it in the way the heat, different than the kind that accompanies drinking liquor, spreads through my body. The heat from Bruno’s stare is electric, like no matter the distance between us, I’m his target and he’ll get a bullseye every damn time. Maybe he’s not actually looking at me; I’m amongst a crowd of people dancing and moving—maybe he’s just watching the crowd and I happen to be in his general eyesight.

But I can’t shake the feeling. Because even from where I am down here and where he is up there, those dark eyes seem to lock onto my blue. And the longer he stares, leaning forward on the banister casually, a glass in his hand, the more my stomach dips with the knowledge that he’s watching me. Despite the people around me and the flashing lights, I know it.

My heart jumps. What the fuck?

How long has he been here, watching me?

I don’t want to focus on him. I rip my gaze away, though I feel the weight of it, and try to lose myself in the music and in Derek. But even with his hands on me, my thoughts sway back to Bruno.

Through the alcohol that no doubt makes my mind hazy, I tell myself that I’m making something out of nothing. Bruno is my boss. Yes, there’s a nagging voice in the back of my head that tells me if it was any other previous client I had worked for that was watching me like this, I would be creeped out. I’d quit the next day.

But with Bruno. . . It feels different. Dangerously slow.

Derek’s mouth drops to my neck and I automatically tilt my head to give him more access. Our bodies still move to the song, heat spreading through me. But it’s not because of Derek’s kisses. It’s because, as he plants them along my neck, I look up, and the sight of Bruno’s cool stare makes my thighs clench. Purple, blue, and pink lights flash across Bruno’s face, but he never breaks our stare. He sips his drink and watches as I grind my ass against Derek’s dick, my one arm stretched up and back to loop around his neck, keeping him close.

It’s electric, being locked in a stare with Bruno as some other guy holds me close like this, kissing my skin. My head is light from the drinks I’ve consumed, but the thrum of danger feels evident, the longer Bruno simply watches. Why is he watching? Is he jealous?

The thought seems ridiculous, even to my drunken mind. What the fuck would Bruno have to be jealous of? Derek? I doubt that, but I can’t lie—Bruno’s attention is dizzying and wicked, and I wish it was him down here with me instead of Derek.

“You wanna get out of here?” Derek’s question snaps me out of my reverie.

Do I want to get out of here? With him? Not at all.

“I’m here with my friends,” I tell him, getting ready to pull away from him. If he wants to leave, then I don’t want to stick to dancing with him to give him any false ideas.

One of Derek’s hands leaves my hip, his arm winding around my waist to keep me close. Hell no. “So? They’ll be alright without you. What do you say?” he asks, his lips brushing against the shell of my ear.

“Sorry, not tonight,” I say, moving to push away from him.

But his grip tightens.

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