Page 12 of Desired By you (Always & Forever #3)

Chapter Ten

Brad

Havana’s is buzzing; the music is so loud it vibrates beneath my feet.

The flashing lights cast over the sea of bodies swaying to the music.

This place wouldn’t be my usual vibe, but it’s where Chris, one of our investors at The Boardroom insisted we meet.

With Jack a week away from his wedding, and Harry getting things in order before he leaves for London for the next six months, it was left to me to have this meeting.

If you could call it that. It was a group of men talking business, smoking cigars, and drinking high end liquor.

I’ve met Chris’s business associates, Elijah and Henry, and truthfully, I thought they were entitled pricks, but I wasn’t about to tell them that.

They have money, and lots of it, and are very keen on helping us expand The Boardrooms, so, I play my part and entertain their shit talk and hang off their every word to seal the deal.

“So, Brad, Chris tells us you used to be in the military,” Elijah asks, puffing on his cigar and leaning forward, his round belly hanging over the waistband of his pants.

“That’s right.” I nod. “Twelve years of service.”

“Impressive. I bet you saw some things.”

“Sure did,” I mumble.

More than you could ever imagine

I suddenly feel the weight of the tags resting on my chest.

“So, what made you leave?” Henry, the younger one, asks.

Not wanting to divulge my life story to these men, I simply say, “It was time to leave. I served my country, and it was time to start a new venture.” They both nod, seemingly happy with my response.

We all notice a group of women on the dance floor.

My eyes instantly zone in on one. She has her back to me, her dark hair trailing down her back like silk.

Leather pants cling to her round ass, an ass that no doubt was built in the gym.

The way she moves her hips seductively to the beat of the music has me hooked.

I can’t tear my eyes off her. I am thankful when her hair falls over one shoulder, and I am teased with a glimpse of her toned back.

Something about the girl on the dance floor feels oddly familiar.

I decide I want to know who she is. I take a sip of my whiskey, savoring the bitter taste as I watch her move her body in a way that should be considered illegal.

A low whistle escapes Elijah’s mouth. “Damn, who’s the girl in the leather pants? I’d like to take her home.”

Chris lets out a low chuckle. “What do you think your wife would say about that?”

“She’ll be in bed with a headache. She’ll never know.” He grins in a way that makes me want to knock his teeth out.

What a prick.

My focus goes back to the dancefloor. The woman turns, and my eyes bug out when the familiar doll-like features of Gabriella Monroe come into view, and suddenly it feels difficult to swallow.

Fuck, I’m in trouble here.

“Fuck me, she’s even better from the front.” Elijah groans.

Yeah, you can fuck right off, dick face . No way is he going near her. I rise to my feet the minute I notice her leave the dance floor and head over to the bar.

“Fancy seeing you here,” I shout over the music. Her head whips round, her long dark locks swinging over her shoulder as she gasps.

“Oh, my god. W-What are you doing here?” she stammers. Usually she would greet me with a hug, so her reaction tells me she’s a little uncomfortable with my being here.

“Business. What are you doing here? Who are you here with?” I question, wondering what’s got her acting so strange around me.

“Erm, my friends, from, umm, my gym. It’s my friend Luna’s birthday.” She points to the group of girls.

“What can I get you?” the barman asks.

“A water for me, and she’ll have a…” I say, directing my words to Gabriella.

“A cosmo, please.”

The barman begins making our drinks, and I take a step closer to her, her sweet cherry scent invading my senses. Everything about Gabriella Monroe is so sweet, and the idea of how sweet she would taste enters my head, and I instinctively run my tongue along my lower lip.

She’s your friend, your younger friend.

“Thank you. You didn’t need to buy me a drink,” she yells over the music, folding her arms across her body, her arms now covering her exposed stomach. She looks nervous, uncomfortable, and the idea doesn’t sit well with me.

“You look different, you look—”

She interrupts me before I can finish. “Ridiculous right? I told Luna this wasn’t very me.”

“Hot. I was going to say you look hot, Gabriella.” Her eyes widen as she looks up at me. She stands at a tiny 5ft 2 next to my 6ft 4 frame, and she has to crane her neck to look up at me.

“You think I look hot?” Her tone is surprised.

Has she seen herself?

“Yes, and just about every man in this club has eyes on you, so don’t shy away. You have nothing to worry about.” I worry I’ve taken my comment too far, but when her face softens and a small smile forms I relax.

I reach out and tuck a strand behind her ear, and she flinches in surprise.

You’d have to be blind not to think Gabriella Monroe was anything but beautiful.

With big brown doe-like eyes, olive skin, full lips, and a slight roundness to her cheeks, she is a natural beauty.

She’s not usually one for make-up but tonight she looks different, and I like what I see.

I go to speak, but the barman places our drinks on the bar, and I hand Gabriella hers before taking my bottle of water.

“Water?” she asks, her brows furrowing.

“Yeah, I’m driving. I can take you home when you’re ready,” I offer.

Taking a small sip of her cosmo, she shakes her head. “No, I’m good. A few of us are going to get the subway back. There’s a stop right by my apartment.”

Like hell she is.

“No, I’ll take you home,” I say, my tone firmer this time.

“Brad, I’m fine, you don’t need—”

I close the space between us, coming so close my teeth almost graze her ear, lowering my tone I say, “I’m not asking, Gabriella.

I wouldn’t be your friend if I let you leave here alone, when every man in this place is looking at you like they want to take you home and devour you. You are leaving with me.”

Her body stiffens as she takes in my words. I straighten up and look at her.

“Okay,” she says softly.

I give her a terse nod, happy she didn’t fight me.

“I, erm, better get back to my friends.” She gestures with her thumb over her shoulder, directing it toward the large group of women huddled together on the dance floor.

“Just let me know when you’re ready to go,” I say as she turns on her heel, heads back to her friends, and leaves me standing there watching her perky ass sway as I try to figure out where that came from.

Sure, I want to make sure my friend gets home safe, but there was something else inside me that took over then, something that felt a lot like jealousy and possessiveness that crept into my soul.

She’s slowly looking like more than just a friend to me now.