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I feel a little bad about having him fall for my scheme, but is it really a scheme if it ultimately works out how he wants?

“I get it, man,” I say smoothly, bringing the whisky to my lips. I’ve got to stay clear-headed—not just because I need to be sharp to challenge any questions or concerns Mason may bring up.

A drunk driver killed Rainn, and I refuse to contribute to any more destruction.

Rainn would be better at this than me.

I smile to distract myself from the thought of my brother.

“Anyway, enough business. How’s life going for you? You’re finally free to live it up big. What changed? You’re looking fit,” I say.

He grins. The biggest thing that’s changed since high school is his size. He has to have dropped nearly a hundred pounds, and as evidenced by the women hanging off him, he’s loving the attention.

“I went hardcore keto,” he says. “You wouldn’t believe the….”

I stop listening to Mason as he drones on about macro and micronutrients, taking the opportunity to gaze around the crowded club. It’s late, and I’ve been making my way through my hit list with precision, winning over former classmates and sons of my father’s friends as I move from VIP section to VIP section.

I’m tired, thirsty for water, and could use a greasy burger and a shower.

As it stands, I have six daytime meetings scheduled next week before fall break.

I’m in the process of returning my gaze to Mason when my brain short-circuits.

It’s her legs I notice first. Her toned calves and lush thighs flex beneath the strobe lights as she gyrates to the music. She dances close to another girl, which is something I can tolerate…mostly.

I move my eyes up, snagging my attention on the deep cut in her skirt that barely covers her pussy.

The pussy I’ve been envisioning sinking into, spearing my tongue into, every night since the elevator incident while fisting my cock until I spurt all over my stomach.

I’ve been avoiding her like I promised myself I would. I’ve been giving her space to do her own thing so she can fly. She doesn’t need me with all my neuroses and rich-boy problems filling up her attention.

But she’s here in front of me, seducing me just by being in my presence.

My mouth goes even drier.

Challenging my self-control, I stop staring at her breasts as they spill out from the deep V in the dress, but only because the look on her face radiates pure rapture.

Ecstasy.

Shae Rivers drips sex wrapped in gold.

“Fuck,I’dsotap that.” Mason’s voice breaks me out of my voyeurism, and I immediately scowl when I realize he’s staring at my Shae.

MyShae.

One of the girls next to him makes an affronted sound, grabbing his attention, and I stand to leave the section.

“Where are you going?” Mason calls after me, but I don’t stop. I make my way to Shae. Shae, who, the longer I look at her, reveals she is, in fact, drunk off her ass.

She’s going to break an ankle in those tall heels.

Fuck-me heels.

“Shit,” I mutter, grateful for the darkness that hides my quickly growing hard-on as the image of those heels up by my ears transposes over the vixen thirty feet from me.

“Storm?” I almost trip over Bambi when she slides in front of me in a tiny silver dress, her hair styled in what I’m sure is a fashionable twist. Her hands go to my chest as she sways.

Fuck,she’sdrunk.