Page 1 of Fire

Chapter 1

The interior of Fire was dark, even as far as nightclub standards went. Spotlights shot from the ceiling, their rays encroaching on the darkness giving off a starburst effect. Gwen thought it would be rather pretty if she wasn’t, at that moment, trying to navigate through a massive crowd of people in the poor lighting.

Not only was the lighting almost nonexistent, but the décor was dark, too. The black walls and section dividers, slate-gray flooring, and deep mahogany bar and tables added to the gloom. The only pop of color was the crimson upholstery that covered the stools and booths and the red flames that danced along the walls, projected from somewhere unseen.

And the noise. Between the music blasting so loudly Gwen could feel the thump of the bass vibrating against her skin to the people yelling to be heard over said music, it was a wonder her eardrums hadn’t burst the moment she’d entered the place. She’d be asking people to repeat themselves for days to come.

Maybe she was just getting too old for the club scene. But Allie, her best friend and roommate, had wanted to check the place out, and as they were both between boyfriends—Gwen for a longer dry spell than Allie—she’d agreed to go.

So, there she was, surrounded by noise and enveloped in darkness.

For Allie.

She felt a tug on her hand and her arm pulled perpendicular to her body. Allie had a hold of it and was a few steps in front of her leading the way through the mass of bodies to the even more crowded bar.

“Can I get four shots of tequila?” Allie yelled once she snagged the bartender’s attention. She’d wedged her way between a seated couple. The woman looked put-out, but the guy had his eyes locked on Allie’s chest.

Not that Gwen could blame him. In a tight-fitting, black, satin bustier it was rather impressive. She looked down at her own not-quite-as-impressive chest. Although she hadn’t really wanted to come to the club, that hadn’t stopped her from dressing up. Not as adventurous as Allie, she wore a simple yet classic bodycon LBD—modest in front with a high, rounded neckline but with a daring cutout that left her entire back bare. Made of rayon and spandex, it hugged her curves like a second skin.

It may have been simple, but it was fucking sexy.

Gwen loved clothes, always had, and had raided her mom’s closet when she was younger to play dress-up. She even chose a career in fashion. Nothing fancy like a designer or model, but she was surrounded by clothes all day as a personal shopper for one of the swankiest department stores in Beverly Hills. She knew all the best brands, current trends, and had an eye for what would look great on a person, even herself.

Turning from the bar, Allie handed her two shots before swinging back around and grabbing the last two. “We better drink them now. We’ll spill if we try to navigate through this crowd holding them,” she said, leaning in close so Gwen could hear.

Gwen held up one of the shots, giving Allie a small salute before bringing the glass to her lips and tipping her head back. Not a heavy drinker, it burned all the way down and made her eyes water.

“Sorry, I didn’t get a lime to wash the taste away.”

Waving away her apology, Gwen brought the second shot to her lips and threw it back before she lost her nerve.

Gwen laughed at the bug-eyed expression that transformed Allie’s face. A laugh that quickly turned into a cough as she choked on the harsh fumes.

Allie downed her last shot then put the glasses back on the bar. “You ready to dance?”

“This is your show. I’m just along for the ride.”

Allie found that hysterical, making Gwen think she was already a bit tipsy. And as Allie grabbed her hand and started leading her to the dance floor, Gwen realized she was a bit tipsy, too, not quite as steady on her heels as she usually was.

On the dance floor, surrounded by gyrating bodies, the music didn’t seem as loud, and soon Gwen was caught up in the beat. Grinding and swaying, she threw herself into the dance. Not the best dancer—she missed a few steps here and there, working against the tempo—what she lacked in skill, she made up for with enthusiasm. Besides, no one paid her the least bit of attention, too busy having fun of their own.

Or, so she thought.

“I need some water,” Allie shouted in her ear.

Gwen couldn’t agree more. She wasn’t sure how long they’d been dancing—with songs blurring together, it was hard to determine how much time had passed—but long enough she was hot, sweaty, and had sore feet. Gwen knew she’d danced with three different guys and with Allie through more songs than that.

“Go find us someplace to sit, and I’ll brave the bar for something to drink,” Gwen shouted back.

She got a nod instead of a verbal reply, and they parted ways, Gwen mentally crossing her fingers she’d be able to find her again.

Surprisingly, there was a spot open at the bar when she arrived, and one of the bartenders came right over.

“Two waters please.” She slid her debit card across the polished wood.

“Water’s on the house.”

Smiling, she pulled her card back.

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