Page 26 of From West, With Regret (NYC Billionaires #2)

Charleigh laughs, wrapping her arms around Asher’s neck. “A little.” Her grin widens. “Does this mean you get to carry me home?”

There’s a twinkle in Asher’s eye, as if it’s an inside joke between them.

Holt asks Stephanie for a drink before he makes his way inside the booth to sit beside Selene. “I heard you finished your book,” he says to her.

She tilts her head and gives him a small ghost of a smile. Her cheeks blush with red. “I did.”

“Well…” Holt clears his throat. “I guess I owe you a congratulations.”

“Thank you.” Selene swallows. “I need to use the bathroom.” She pops up from her seat and corrects her dress before walking in the direction of the bathroom, a slight sway in her steps.

I turn back to Holt, but he hasn’t looked away from Selene. He eyes her the entire way until she disappears around the corner. The smile he had when congratulating her fades.

“I’ll go make sure she’s okay,” he mutters, then follows her.

I look over my shoulder and find West still standing in the entrance to the club. We don’t speak a word to one another as his gaze rakes over me, taking in my outfit.

His beautiful, towering frame fills the opening to the club below. The room grows smaller with every passing second between us. Air squeezes through my lungs and the image of West in my dreams comes back to me at full force .

“I need some air,” I say to no one in particular.

Asher is already lifting Charleigh into his arms, and Julianna is dancing with herself.

I make my way around the table and head toward the entrance where West is standing. I avoid looking at him as my shoulder brushes the smooth fabric of his sport coat, which is dark blue with black lapels over his black collared shirt. Like the one on the cover of Holt’s magazine.

I immediately smell him: mint and leather. The heat I’ve ignored for the past twenty-four hours is back between my thighs. Memories of his hands on me and his breath in my ear come roaring back. Every muscle I have aches for him.

I avoid looking at West as I move past him and head for the stairwell leading to the dance floor below.

The open area of the club is as dark as the VIP section, though different as bright lights flash across the entire room.

The DJ at the front of the dance floor holds his headphones to one ear as he bobs his head to the steady beat.

“London, wait,” West says behind me.

“I need air, West,” I rasp, desperate for relief.

“Talk to me, please,” he begs, and the pain in his voice forces me to stop at the edge of the dance floor. The sea of dancers threaten to suck me in, but I turn my back on them, staring at the man I know I’m falling in love with.

The man in my dreams.

He’s breathing heavy with that same look of panic I’ve already seen on his face a million times. Like I’m suddenly going to evaporate into thin air or fade before his very eyes.

“I need to talk to you about what happened yesterday,” he says over the music. “It’s killed me not texting or calling you. I want to give you space, but—” He struggles to finish his sentence, raking a frustrated hand through his dark hair. His rings and watch glint under the white strobe lights .

“I can’t do this.”

“Why?” He asks, desperate. “Tell me why you can’t.”

“It’s too complicated.”

“Because of Heath?” He shouts. “Or is it something else?”

“All of it.” My confession steels us both. I get lost in his eyes, wishing we were having this conversation somewhere else. The alcohol swimming in my body is starting to hit me.

“So, you do feel something for me?”

A lump swells in my throat.

Bodies press into my back around me, and I allow them to swallow me up before I turn and push my way through the crowd, even though I know West is quick to follow. The crowd parts, giving West and me the space to make our way toward the center of the dance floor.

“Can you honestly tell me you feel nothing for me?” he pleads behind me.

“Let it go, West!” I yell over my shoulder, continuing to shoulder my way through.

“I can’t let you go.”

I stop, spinning on my heel. Lights flash across his face in rhythm with the pounding music vibrating through the floor. One second, I see him. The other, he’s gone.

But then he’s back, his eyes shining under the strobe lights again.

I can’t let you go.

We’re standing chest to chest. The dancers surrounding us slowly push us together, and within moments, I find myself looking up at West.

“What are you afraid of, London?” he shouts over the music. “Falling for me?”

“Yes!” I shout back, not caring if he knows my truth. I’ve kept it safely locked inside a vault, not even telling my sister. Now I’ve cracked the code, opening the safe door wide open. I stiffen my arms at my sides, balling my hands into fists. “I already am falling for you West.”

He blinks, shocked by my answer.

“But we shouldn’t, and I can’t,” I continue. He opens his mouth, but I stop him, grinding my teeth until they crack. “And I swear, if you try to argue that this is about Heath… I’m only going to tell you one last time that it isn’t. If you suggest it again, I might just lose my mind.”

“Then, what is it? Because I’ll be damned if I’ll let you walk out of here like you walked out of my bar last night without you knowing exactly how I feel about you.”

A knot twists in my stomach, and I feel nauseous.

Nauseous in a good way. If that makes any fucking sense.

West makes me feel whole and complete. Like puzzles pieces falling into place without me even trying.

He’s familiar, but how can I tell him that?

How can I tell him I have memories of him when I know it’s impossible? Right?

I remember his hands and his voice, even before he touched me the other night.

It’s as though I’m looking through a kaleidoscope.

The image of him is there, but the picture doesn’t make any sense.

He’s a Picasso painting to me, blocks of colors not quite lined up.

They make a picture, but they don’t quite make sense at first glance.

“West, I?—”

“Hey there, gorgeous.” A deep voice comes up behind me, loud and clear straight for my ear. “How about I take you out of here and you can dance all over my cock instead of on this dance floor?”

West’s attention immediately lifts to whoever is over my shoulder. His eyes have darkened, transforming to a full deep shade of black. His nostrils flare, and his neck swells. I can see the muscles in his jaw ticking with pulsating fury .

The man behind me leans closer, and his hand slinks around my hip, down to the top of my thigh.

I freeze, my skin turning as cold as ice.

My mind is screaming for my body to move but it doesn’t listen.

But the next several moments happen in a flash.

I gasp as West pushes me behind him, stumbling and catching myself before spinning around. An ear-splitting crack pierces the music as West’s fist connects with the face of the man who touched me. He drops to the floor with a thud, and West is quick to stand over him.

“Stay the fuck away from her,” he seethes, venom dripping from him as he leans down and fists the man’s shirt.

He lifts him up effortlessly before he rears his free arm back in the air and drives his fist into the man’s face again.

Then again. Then again. Blood sprays from the guy’s face as he’s jerked to his right, the crowd jumping back as crimson hits the floor around them.

The stranger’s eyes roll to the back of his head, but West doesn’t relent, delivering another blow. The music hasn’t stopped, and neither have the lights. The club descends into chaos. Some people move away from the fight while others stand and watch in shock.

I leap forward, trying to stop West from delivering another blow to the man before he kills him. “West!” I shout, grabbing at his shoulders. “Stop.”

He doesn’t listen, instead punching the man again.

He lifts him up with a single hand again, inches from the dance floor.

Snarling, he presses his nose to the man’s.

“You motherfucking pussy. Say shit like that again to my girl and I’ll snap that tiny dick of yours and shove it right down your throat until you fucking choke on it. ”

“ West ,” I cry out. “Please, stop.”

The man’s eyes slowly roll to me over West’s shoulder .

“Don’t you fucking look at her, you piece of shit,” West threatens, snarling. He shakes him as if he doesn’t already have his attention. “Do it again, and I won’t think twice about killing you.”

The man eyes roll to the back of his head, and West unravels his fist. The stranger drops to the floor like a sack of potatoes.

The feathers of darkness return as I watch him lying there, lifeless, head to the side, blood pouring from his face. Lights dance across his body, and I watch his chest, waiting to see if it rises.

“London,” West says in my ear, his voice warbled and distorted, like I’m trapped underwater.

“Dimples, look at me!” West shouts.

At least I think it’s him. It could be the cacophony of voices around us. Or the champagne still lingering in my blood and swimming in my head.

The man on the floor doesn’t move. He just lies there, lifeless.

I’m watching his chest move just an inch when West steps in front of me, blocking my view.

“London, are you okay? Look at me.” His warm hands press against my face, forcing me to look into his eyes.

Blue eyes. Kind blue eyes. Eyes that are no longer black.

I swallow and look at West with tears ready to fall.

“Look at me, London,” he begs. “We need to get out of here. Right now .”

I’ve barely given him a nod before he’s wrapping my hand up in his and leading me out of the nightclub.