Page 65 of Electric Touch

“All of you, get out of my apartment. I have shit to do.”

Jack gets up, and he puts his arm around Dylan, and they head out with Ren.

Riley stands and looks at Alessa. She gives me a look as she passes, Riley following.

“You, go speak to that woman of yours and figure this out.” Declan unbuttons his suit jacket and takes it off, draping it over the counter. “Is it a thing?”

I shrug. He mutters under his breath and points at the door.

Jack is disappointed and Ciro is ecstatic that Pippa Berglund will not be security. She is one of the Team Leaders at Sentinel. Her job is to coordinate the guards assigned to Red Alert.

My conversation with Adrestia went better than I thought. The woman isn’t fazed by anything. She commented it was a pragmatic approach by the record label and I should be glad I’m working with professionals. But she doesn’t have time to meet with Pippa until later in the week. Pippa isn’t happy about it, so I put them in touch.

When she came off the phone, Pippa eyed me speculatively, tapping her phone against her chin. She’s going to meet Adrestia on Friday. I can’t help but smile, knowing she’s worked her rather unique charm on Pippa.

Pippa introduced me to Blake Bennett, the guard assigned to me. Because I’m the one who kick-started this, together with speculation about my love life, they gave me a personal guard. He is friendly enough, but has that same stoic way of moving you see in most security guys.

Sentinel is being put to the test tonight at the opening of this club. Blake, Ren, and another guy named James are with us.

We’re told to wait inside the car until security lets us out. Dylan and Jack are with me. Alessa and Riley are in the car behind with BreakNeck’s security. From what Jack told me when he got in the SUV, Ciro is refusing to come. Fuck knows how that will go down with the label. Or Declan. Ciro’s not my problem.

The club is in Hell’s Kitchen with a long line of people waiting to get in. Most are dressed to impress, and I know Jack is going to get into trouble. When Blake opens the door, Ren is already ahead of him. His eyes move in every direction. If they’d let us arrive like normal people, no one would pay any attention. Then I notice the red carpet with the roped walkway. Dylan grins at me as he gets out, adjusting the rolled-up sleeves of his white shirt. He’s dressed to impress, too. Jack is in his jeans and t-shirt with expensive sneakers.

The people in the queue scream and go fucking mental. For a second I panic, wondering what the fuck is happening. Ren and Blake both react too, moving closer. Then I understand the real commotion. Riley and Alessa aren’t alone in their car. Jordan and Archer Harris are getting out of it too, waving at the crowd.

“Might as well go home, fellers,” Jack says to Ren. “No one gives a shit about us.” He laughs and walks ahead.

He’s right, everyone is vying for the BreakNeck band members’ attention. Alessa has hold of Jordan’s hand. I doubt he’d let her go if she tried. Riley is ahead of Archer, who is talking to the suited guy next to him as he absently waves at people. As he moves out of the way, I notice the man with Riley. I almost stop walking. She brought him.

I’m not sure what the feeling snaking through my body is. I grit my teeth as she smiles, waving. Like these people are interested in her when she is standing next to Archer Harris.

“Ballsy move, bitch,” Dylan grunts beside me as we head for the entrance to the club.

“Leave it,” I sigh. “They’re together.”

Dylan eyes me. But I just walk on and he falls into step with me. People shout at us and I wave back. They’re queueing behind metal barriers. I guess with celebrities here, they’re taking all the precautions they can.

Blake doesn’t get in the way, but he’s watching everything around us. James has now joined us. I don’t know what he did with the car. We make it inside with no mishaps, heading past the huge doormen checking IDs. We get stamped by a girl in a burlesque outfit, wearing a tiny top hat tilted on her blonde curls.

As the door opens, there are strobe lights pulsing from inside despite the dim lighting. We follow another woman in a similar outfit. The place is already packed. It’s after eleven, so it’s jumping. It’s doubtful most of the people queueing will get in. We’re led past the very busy bar, the bartenders hurrying around behind it to keep up with all the orders. A set of stairs leads to a mezzanine level. Two more security men block the entrance to the VIP area. They move aside to let us through. Blake and Ren hang back once they’re on the same level as us. James goes to stand close to the bar.

Around the space there are several booths and tables, each with small glasses holding candles. A bartender is pouring shots into a line of about fifteen glasses without raising the bottle as he goes. A server loads them on a tray and starts moving through the room, passing them out.

Jack takes one and knocks it back with a grin as he heads over to a couple of guys from Dirty Crew. I don’t know where Patrick is, but can’t imagine this is helping his rehab. Dylan grabs two glasses and hands me one. What the hell, I down it, thanking the server and then checking out the rest of the place. Jordan waves us over and I gladly go. Alessa is talking to a woman I don’t recognise while Jordan pours champagne into glasses. Archer has his arm around a woman, whispering something in her ear that has her giggling.

We take the stools at the front of the booth and Jordan hands over the champagne. I don’t see Riley and the douchebag anywhere, but I’m not complaining.

Jordan glances around, then back at us, confusion on his face. “Where’s Ciro?”

“Not coming,” Dylan says, finishing his shot, then taking the champagne glass.

“Ah shit, I had someone I wanted him to meet.”

I arch a brow. “You want to set Ciro up? Do you have a death wish?”

He waves his hand like I’m joking. “I worked hard picking out this chick for him.”

“I told you to leave that shit alone,” Archer drawls, then greets us all with a dip of his chin. We return it. “You’re not the best person to match-make anyone.”

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