Page 27 of Petals and Fangs

I step out on the balcony, phone in hand, eager to answer the phone call. I thought I made it clear to Lily not to call again. Even though I am not happy with the way I talked to her earlier.

“Ms. Snow. It is late as you can see.”

I don’t hear back from her. I quickly realize the background noise is drowning out Lily’s voice.

“Ms. Snow, I can barely hear you. Where are you?”

“Why do you care?” her voice finally becomes clearer now.

“Lily. Where are you?”

“Out. Far away from you.”

I sigh and pinch the bridge of my nose. Lily does not sound like she is in the right state of mind.

“I am not going to repeat myself again, Lily. Where the hell are you?”

“Where am I?” Lily repeats, giggling slightly.

I can hear the thumping music in the background and the sound of people shouting and laughing.

Suddenly, I hear a familiar, deep authoritative voice attempting to escort Lily outside. Damn it. She is in my club. She is the one the security guy informed me of. What is going through your mind, Lily?

“Lily. I need you to stay there. Don’t talk to anyone. I am coming to get you. Understand?”

The call suddenly hangs up. The silence after it is deafening. What are the odds? Why is Lily in my club? More importantly, why is she calling me?

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I mutter to myself and head to the club.

This is not how I wanted the night to end. I would hate for the most important meeting with my attorney to end like this, but I must find Lily.

The music is deafening inside the club. It is not even hard to find Lily because I can smell her. She smells like vanilla and roses. In fact, everyone can smell her.

“There you are,” I grab her hand and pull her along as I head outside, but she resists me.

“Did you follow me here?” Lily asks, raising an eyebrow.

Her outfit is scandalous. She is wearing a tight, black mini dress with a plunging neckline and high heels.

“Wow,” I say, trying not to stare too much.

“Come dance with me,” Lily says, but I pull my hand away.

“What are you doing here, Lily? You should not be here.”

“Having fun. People do that, Mr. Rothschild.”

“In my club? You are clearly drunk,” I glare at her.

“I don’t care if it is your club. I don’t care if every club in New York is yours. I am allowed to have fun.”

“Not like this. You are not supposed to be this reckless, Lils,” I say angrily.

“Why do you care? And for the record, it is Ms. Snow, not Lils.”

Lils. Good old days. The name I used to call her. Good times. She is clearly so drunk and out of it, and I would hate to leave her alone in this state. I suddenly feel obliged to take care of her.

“Come dance with me,” Lily says again, swaying lightly in front of me. I try hard not to stare, but the sight is just mouth-watering. She makes my thoughts race.

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