Club night
Ava hadn’t planned on coming, but she had no choice. Her friends had dragged her along, insisting she needed to drink and shake off her “sour mood.”
Can you imagine these girls? Her sour mood — was it really that obvious that everyone could tell she was hurting inside? She was terrible at hiding her feelings. She didn’t want her friends to worry; it wasn’t their fault. No, it was that he-goat, Daniel, who had cheated on her with some cheap, two-dollar girl.
The club was too bright, too loud, and every laugh around her felt like it was mocking her heartbreak. Everyone acted like they were the happiest people alive. As she looked around, she realized most of them were just horny adults looking for someone to warm their beds.
Gush. Her mind was dirty.
A voice whispered in her head: “At least someone will warm their bed. Who will warm yours?”
Three years with that bastard Daniel—gone. All that time wasted. She’d always known something was off because he kept dodging whenever she wanted him to take a bold step, like getting married. Anyway, she wished him well with the lousy brunette…
Scoff. She hoped they gave birth to turkeys.
Was that harsh? Not harsh enough for how she was feeling right now. Besides, that brunette’s neck already looked like an Easter turkey.
Her mind laughed at itself. Yeah, it was a mess.
“Come on, Ava! Forget him, or you’re gonna waste your life over a man!” Grace shouted over the music, shoving a cocktail into her hand. “Tonight’s about you. Drink, dance, you might get lucky and meet a sexy stranger, boom—you’re laid. I know your cheating ex never satisfied you, that’s why you look so pale all the time.
Sophie giggled, swaying to the beat. “She’s right. You’ve cried enough. … live a little. Tonight could be your lucky night. No fine guy wants someone who looks like she can punch a hole in a wall, so lighten up, okay, baby girl.”
Ava stared at the glass, hesitating. But maybe numbing herself wasn’t such a bad idea. She tipped her head back and swallowed.
Grace and Sophie cheered as Ava drained her glass.
“That’s my girl,” Sophie said. “Now enjoy this night… and don’t be a cockblocker for me!” She laughed.
Ava rolled her eyes. “Girl, you’re always hooking up with men and never getting satisfied… easy tigress.” She grabbed another drink.
One drink turned into two, and by the third, the room was starting to spin. Her body loosened, and soon she was moving with the music, laughing as Grace twirled her around. For the first time in weeks, she wasn’t thinking about anything. She was loving this feeling.
Sophia dragged Ava and Grace to the middle of the dance floor. They were all giggling as a group of randy young guys circled them like vultures eyeing their prey—literally, if you catch my drift.
Ava stumbled, laughed, and swayed her hips to the beat. One guy, sweating like he’d been working hard all day, kept trying to grind against her back. She wanted to shove him away, but as Sophia had said, tonight wasn’t about being selective. Besides… it was just dancing.
She closed her eyes and let the music take over. “Just dance,” she whispered to herself.
Upstairs in the VIP lounge, a man sat alone with a glass of whiskey.
The club was packed tonight. Downstairs, people danced, laughed, and drank like tomorrow didn’t exist.
He took another sip and rubbed his jaw.
What a week.
A waitress stopped beside his table.
“Can I get you another drink, Mr. Blackwood?”
Damian looked at the glass in his hand. “I haven’t even finished this one.”
She smiled politely. “Right. Sorry, sir.”
As she walked away, someone dropped into the seat across from him.
“You know,” Jonathan said, helping himself to the bowl of nuts on the table, “for the owner of Club Zero, you always look like you’re serving a prison sentence whenever you’re here.”
Damian let out a dry laugh.
“Maybe I am.”
Jonathan grinned. “Still thinking about your grandfather’s will?”
Damian took another sip of whiskey.
Unfortunately, that was exactly what he was thinking about.
“We need to be strategic about this. You can’t avoid it forever. The will is clear — if you’re not married by thirty, your bastard stepbrother gets everything. And Ethan’s already circling. But I gotta ask… why would Mr. Joseph Blackwood, your grandfather, make a rule like this? After everything you’ve done for the company… bro, you basically took Dangote company to a global level. This inheritance should’ve been yours outright. I mean, you know how cunning your grandpa is.”
Jonathan laughed, taking a sip. “He already knows your type — you might decide never to marry. I don’t blame the man. I’d do the same. He’s just trying to save his bloodline.”
Damian’s jaw tightened. “Jonathan, I’m not in the mood for this. Grandpapa really screwed me over, but it’s fine. I won’t let my father’s bastard son reap where he didn’t sow.”
Jonathan swirled his drink. “Then tell me you have a plan. Because if you don’t… Ethan wins.”
Damian ignored Jonathan’s question and looked down at the club. It was packed tonight. His gaze drifted until it landed on a group of women dancing near the Stanley brothers.
Scoff. This is new.
Jonathan was halfway through his drink when he noticed Damian staring a little too hard at the dance floor.
The Stanley brothers.
He frowned.
“What?” Jonathan asked.
Damian nodded toward the crowd. “Those idiots are back.”
Jonathan followed his gaze and frowned.
“I thought you banned those idiots.”
“I did.”
Jonathan looked back at him. “Then why are they here?”
Damian took a slow sip of his whiskey.
“The last time they caused trouble, their father had to pay for all the damages.”
“The senator?”
Damian nodded.
“I let them back in on one condition.”
Jonathan raised a brow. “Which is?”
A cold smile touched Damian’s lips.
“The next time they pull that rubbish in my club, I’ll gut them open.”
Jonathan let out a laugh.
“You say the sweetest things.”
Jonathan followed his gaze again and let out a low whistle.
The brothers weren’t causing trouble. Not yet.
They were dancing with three women who looked completely unaware of the kind of men they were dealing with.
One of the women threw her head back laughing. Another seemed to be teaching one of the brothers a dance move.
The third one nearly lost her balance, caught herself, then burst into laughter.
Damian’s eyes stayed on her for a second longer than necessary.
Jonathan noticed.
“Oh, this should be interesting.”
Damian glanced at him. “What?”
Jonathan grinned. “Nothing. I’m just wondering why you’re suddenly so interested in the dance floor.”
“I’m not.”
“Sure you aren’t.”
Down on the dance floor, Ava was having the time of her life.
She laughed as Grace spun her around, nearly losing her balance again.
“Easy there, drunkie!” Sophie shouted, catching her by the arm.
“I’m fine!” Ava giggled.
As she lifted her head, her eyes wandered upstairs.
That’s when she saw him.
A man in the VIP lounge.
Even from this distance, she could tell he was watching them.
No.
Watching her.
For a second, she just stared.
Then heat crept into her cheeks.
She looked away.
A moment later, curiosity got the better of her, and she looked up again.
He was still there.
Upstairs, Damian hadn’t looked away.
“Uh-oh.”
Jonathan’s voice pulled him back.
Damian glanced at him. “What?”
Jonathan smirked and took a sip of his drink.
“That girl just looked up.”
“So?”
“So, you’ve been staring long enough for her to notice.”
“I wasn’t staring.”
“Sure you weren’t.”
Damian ignored him and looked back at the dance floor.
The woman had turned back to her friends, laughing at something one of them said.
A few seconds later, she looked up again.
Jonathan caught it too and let out a low chuckle.
“Well, I’ll be damned.”
“What now?”
“I think she caught you,” Jonathan said, trying—and failing—to hide his grin.
Damian shot him a look.
“You’re acting like I’ve committed a crime.”
“No, but this is the longest I’ve seen you look at a woman without sending for her.”
“I don’t need to send for her.”
“Mm-hmm.”
Jonathan took another sip of his drink.
“So what’s the plan?”
“There is no plan.”
“You’re just going to sit here and stare?”
“I’m keeping an eye on the Stanley brothers.”
“Of course you are.”
Damian ignored him.
Down below, the woman laughed again, her friend nearly spilling a drink on her. She stumbled, caught herself, and started laughing even harder.
A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth before he could stop it.
Jonathan nearly choked on his whiskey.
“Oh, this is serious.”
Damian’s smile disappeared.
“It isn’t.”
“You smiled.”
“I did not.”
“You did.”
“I think the alcohol is affecting your eyesight.”
Jonathan barked out a laugh.
“Whatever you say, Romeo.”
“Call me that again, and I’ll throw you over this balcony.”
“Now I know it’s serious.”
