Page 6 of Give Me Love

Claire cuts in, “Yes, a very shitty friend. So, the guy told Austin he would always be on the list and to bring whomever he wanted.” She grins excitedly, causing me to smirk.

The people in line stare us down as we near the bouncer.

I avoid eye contact.

“Can I help you?” he says in a deep baritone voice.

“Austin Stone. I should be on there for me and two guests,” he says, lifting his chin at the list and tossing his toothpick.

The big man flips the page and scans down. He looks back up at us and nods. “Welcome to Red.”

I look over at Claire and she shrugs, liketold ya, as the man unhooks the velvet rope and we three walk inside.

The hallway is covered with red velvet carpet, and a thin rope of purple lights between the wall and mirrored ceiling illuminate the way as we grow closer to the all-black doors.

We are silent as the doors slide open, revealing the club, and I marvel at how enormous it is.

Longer than it is wide and two stories tall. A bar stretches down the entire left side of the club with a glowing red wall of heavy liquor-filled glass shelves.

My eyes travel to the staircase, which rests to the far right side where a man stands at the bottom. A well-fitted black suit covers his body, and arms the size of tree trunks cross over his wide chest.

His head tilts a tad as his eyes tighten, and then he looks across the club.

Right.

At.

Me.

I avert my eyes, quickly turning my gaze toward a wall of blacked out glass that covers the entire second floor. My teeth work on the inside of my cheek as I angle my head.

Little hairs stand on the nape of my neck, and I shiver as though someone were watching me.

Is that a two-way mirror?

I dare take a peek back at the big man, discovering he is no longer looking but speaking to himself, and I catch a two-way radio resting near his ear.

Feeling Claire’s hand take mine, I rip my gaze from him.

“Shots,” she says and tugs me toward the bar where Austin is already headed. I follow, but my eyes wander everywhere as I try not to break my ankles.

Dancing lights canopy a crowded dance floor, while tables in front of sunken booths are supplied well with expensive bottles of liquor and champagne.

Women walk around in skimpy outfits carrying trays and showing their white teeth as the music vibrates my bones, beating unapologetically throughout the sound system.

A rush of excitement pushes through my veins.

I need this.

I need fun.

I’m handed a shot and Claire says, “To new beginnings.”

We clink our glasses, and as I bring the whiskey to my smiling lips, my gaze lands on the stairs again, but this time, in the dead center, another man stands.

He rests back against the all brick wall with his hands tucked loosely into his fitted navy slacks. My eyes connect with the fiercest blues I’ve ever seen, like the murky sea itself mirroring a violent sky.

Why is he looking at me like that?

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