Page 1 of Luxe

Prologue

“Whoareyou?”thelittle girl peeking at me from behind the fridge says. I almost can’t even see her eyes, they’re so hidden behind a thick black fringe. But I can feel her staring.

“Hi. I’m Kylian, I’m your brother’s friend. What’s your name?”

She ignores the question. “Which brother?”

“How many do you have?”

“Just one.” She shrugs, as if she thinks I’m an idiot for asking.

“So why did you ask which one?” I ask, confused by this strange little girl.

“Why not? Anyway, he’s never brought any friends home before. He must like you.”

The comment almost makes up for her teasing me. “I hope so. I like him a lot.”

She continues to stare. It shouldn’t be unnerving considering she’s so little. Or maybe that’s exactly why it’s so unnerving.

“Kylian.” She says my name like she’s trying to figure out if she should waste time trying to memorize it, if she’ll need to know it sometime in the future. “Do you want to play cards sometime?” she asks, holding out a deck of cards.

“I’d love to. What do you want to play? Go Fish, maybe?”

Her face rearranges into a disgusted expression. “Go Fish is for babies. I play poker.”

“Aren’t you too little to play poker?” I regret saying it as soon it’s out of mouth.

She splutters as she glares at me, squares her shoulders and straightens her back until she’s almost a whole inch taller. “I’m not too little. And you just don’t want to play because you’re afraid I’ll win.”

“I’m not afraid of that at all; in fact, I bet I’d really like being beat by you.”

“You’re going to be sorry you said that to me one day.”

I lean in and say with a wink, “I look forward to it.”

one

Kiara

London

"Kiara!Isitjustme or are your fucking tits out?!"

I flash a grin at my best friend, lifting my Long Island Iced Tea in a boozy toast.

"I fucking hope it’s not just you!" I shout, barely audible over the thumping music in the club. "I didn’t buy this new bra for no one to notice!"

She laughs, shaking her head as she grabs my hand and leads me back to the dance floor where the rest of our group of friends have congregated. There's something about the smell of fresh sweat, cheap alcohol, 90s RnB, and my shoes sticking to the floor with every step that brings out a primal instinct in me.

"You make me wanna..."we shout along with Usher, bodies contorting and writhing along to the lyrics about a guy wanting to cheat on his girlfriend. The irony seems lost to us that we're all actually out tonight to help a friend get over her betrayed, broken heart.

The female mind is a complicated place.

And tonight, mine is a drunken, messy, convoluted landscape, as I try to forget for just a moment why I’m back in London in the first place.

Once the song is over, and another Usher song comes on, I step off the dance floor for a moment to take a breath. Downing the rest of my drink before placing the glass on a nearby bar table, I glance around the club. It’s dark inside; I can barely see more than a few feet in front of me except where the disco lights shine.

We’d stumbled upon this club after our group had been kicked out of the previous one when I’d kicked a guy where he deserved to be kicked because he wouldn’t take my friend’s "no" for an answer. I didn’t take fifteen years of Taekwondo at my brother’s dojang to watch a drunken sleazebag put his hands somewhere they’re not wanted.

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