Page 36 of Sweetest Sin (Tempting Love #1)

Peyton

“Why aren’t you dressed?”

I turn around and sigh. “I am.”

My stuff from my apartment was delivered—and I learned that Dominick had paid to have my lease terminated—but there’s nothing in these boxes meant for going to a club or bar.

“It’s official,” I say, my hands sweeping down my body. “I’m a mom with a mom bod and mom clothes.”

Brielle stares at me for several seconds and then bursts out laughing. “Oh my God. Stop it. If that”—she nods toward my body—“is a mom bod, then sign me up. Because you have curves for days and your rack looks like you bought it.”

“I invest in very good bras.”

She laughs again and then saunters over to my closet, where I’ve been hanging up my clothes as I unbox. “Oh, what about this? This is sexy and simple. Perfect for a night out at the club.”

She’s referring to the little black dress that I haven’t worn since my night with Dominick.

Soon after, I found out I was pregnant, and then after Damien was born, when I went on dates, I couldn’t bring myself to wear it.

It holds too many memories. When we went to bed that night, I thought it was the start of something more, only to learn the next morning that it was the end.

“Yeah, I could wear that,” I tell her, snatching it off the hanger with a bit too much force.

She eyes me curiously, but doesn’t comment.

After I’m dressed, I check on Damien and then thank Martha for keeping an eye on him.

“Should I leave a note for Dominick?” I ask as we walk out to the garage.

When my stuff was delivered, so was my phone, but I don’t know Dominick’s number, and since he’s been home a lot, I haven’t needed it.

Brielle grins. “No. The one thing you need to know about my brothers is that they always know where everyone is.”

The garage houses several sleek vehicles, ranging from sports cars to SUVs. And I make a mental note to ask Dominick about my car. It doesn’t belong in this garage, but I’ll need something to drive around when the threat is gone.

“Wait,” I say, stopping. “What about the guard?”

“I’m right here, Miss Wright,” Daniil says, stepping out of a side door. He’s dressed like he always is—in an all-black suit, complete with a matching skinny tie. “I’ll be driving you tonight.”

“Or … and just hear me out,” Brielle says, batting her lashes, “you could follow us so I could drive Betty.” She pats her hand on the red Porsche. “It’s been years since I drove her, and she misses me.”

“Sorry, Miss Antonova?—”

“Brielle,” she barks. “I hate that last name as much as I hate this city.”

Daniil nods. “You know the rules, Brielle. If you want to leave, I need to drive you.”

She huffs but gives in, walking over to the black sedan next to her sports car. “Fine, let’s go.”

She takes the back seat, and I’m not sure if I should get in the front or the back, until another guy walks out, dressed the same as Daniil.

“Hello, Miss Wright—correct?” Unlike Daniil’s blond hair, hazel eyes, and boyish looks, this guy looks downright menacing. His head is shaved, and peeking out of his collar looks to be several tattoos. One of which looks like a snake running up his neck.

“Yes,” I choke out.

“My name is Denis,” he says. “I’ll be joining you tonight.”

“Okay, thanks,” I tell him.

He opens the back door for me, and I slide in next to a pouting Brielle.

“Told you they know everything,” she mutters.

“What do you mean?”

“Denis is one of Dominick’s best men. If I were going alone, Daniil would’ve been fine. But the fact that Denis is here means Dominick knows you’re leaving and isn’t taking any chances. I’ve seen that man kill five guys in less than ten seconds.”

When my eyes dart between her and Denis, she laughs. “Welcome to the family.”

Kings Point is exactly the kind of place I imagined Brielle frequenting.

The walls are a deep crimson with red lights running from corner to corner.

Black-and-gold velvet couches and chairs are placed around the perimeter, and even though they’re out in the open, each area looks cozy.

In the middle is a sleek marble dance floor, which is filled with people gyrating and grinding all over each other to a smooth beat.

“This way,” Brielle says, heading straight for the stairs.

As she saunters across the club, people make a path for her like the parting of the Red Sea. Women look at her with a mixture of jealousy and envy while several men turn their heads, their eyes lighting up with lust, but none of them dare to try and approach her.

I think it’s partly because of the two bodyguards we have—one in front and the other behind us—but also, Brielle gives off a don’t fuck with me vibe on her own. You’d never know that woman has a vulnerable bone in her body. She carries herself the same way her brothers do—like she owns the world.

Tonight, she’s dressed in a simple white dress, which shows off her trim figure and ample cleavage, paired with red heels. Her blonde locks are down in loose waves, and she’s holding a tiny red clutch that matches her heels.

The man standing in front of the velvet rope nods once and opens it for us.

The second floor has the same color scheme as the first, but unlike the first floor, each section has floor-to-ceiling curtains you can close if you want privacy.

There’s a bar and dance floor similar to the one on the first floor, only half the size. This must be the VIP area.

“There she is!” a gorgeous woman squeals, running out of one of the sections.

A few more women appear as well, each hugging Brielle and welcoming her back. She gives each a two-cheek kiss, and once she’s done, she takes my hand and brings me over to join them.

“This is Katie.” Brielle points to the first woman, who’s wearing a cream dress that leaves nothing to the imagination. She has caramel hair and green eyes, and she’s downright gorgeous. “We went to high school together.”

Katie smiles, but it’s fake, and I have no idea what I did for her to already dislike me.

“This is Gillian and Liberty,” Brielle says, moving on to two women with platinum-blonde hair and matching blue eyes, who are clearly sisters.

They look like they belong on a runway or on the cover of a magazine.

“We also went to high school together, and their father is a business associate of Dominick’s. ”

Both women smile, and I force a smile back, wondering what I’m doing here.

“And this is Lola,” Brielle says. “We grew up together. Her grandfather was the mayor of Harbor Point, and her father should’ve been as well, but?—”

“He was in an accident,” Lola says, “and forced to step out of the running. It’s nice to meet you.”

Her smile is authentic, and I release a calming breath.

“Ladies,” Brielle says, “this is Peyton.” I assume that’s all she’s going to say until she smirks and then adds, “My brother Dominick’s girlfriend.”

A couple of the women gasp, and they all eye me up and down with a mixture of curiosity and confusion. Lola doesn’t look surprised, so I’m assuming Brielle already told her about me.

“I thought your brother wasn’t looking for a relationship,” Katie says, not even bothering to hide her disdain for me.

“No, sweetie,” Brielle says in a sugary-sweet tone. “He wasn’t looking for one with you.”

Katie huffs and flips her long caramel hair over her shoulder. “Whatever. You know what they say—men don’t change.”

“Actually, I think the saying goes, A woman can’t change a man .

But a man will change for the right woman .

” Brielle smiles as she sits on the black-and-gold velvet couch and elegantly crosses her legs.

“Now, I’d like to have a good time, so rather than be petty bitches because my brothers refuse to hook up with any of you, let’s drink and enjoy ourselves.

There are plenty of men here tonight who will give you the attention you want. ”

As if on cue, a waitress walks in and sets down a round of shots.

Brielle takes two, handing one to me, while the other women grab their own.

They raise their glasses, so I follow along.

“To having a good time.” Brielle raises her glass, and all the women follow, clinking their glasses against hers.

I throw my shot back, and it burns, going down, but I can’t deny how smooth it is. Brielle hands me another, and I swallow that one down as well.

“Let’s dance!” she says, grabbing my hand and guiding me out of the VIP area and over to the dance floor.

The other ladies follow, and thankfully, with the alcohol flowing and the music pumping, they seem to forget about my connection to Dominick and have a good time.

We dance to several songs, then stop to take a couple of more shots before we’re back at it again.

With all the bodies so close, it’s hot, and I’m glad my dress is sleeveless.

I can feel beads of sweat dotting my forehead and the curve of my back, but I’m actually having a good time.

It probably helps that alcohol is running through my veins, and with the music so loud, I don’t have to converse with any of Brielle’s friends.

I can’t remember the last time I went out since my son was born, and I make a note to do this more often.

It’s easy to get lost in being a mom, but now that I’m out of school, I need to make more time for myself.

All these women have their hair and nails done, and while I’ve never had the extra money to do anything like that before, once Dominick gives me the okay to get a job, I’d like to start doing more things for me.

I’m dancing with Brielle, my arms above my head and my body swaying to the music, when a pair of arms slide around me from behind.

For a moment, in my tipsy haze, I think it’s Dominick, but when Brielle’s eyes bug out, I step forward and turn around, coming face-to-face with a man who is definitely not Dominick.

“Hello there,” he says, flashing me a boyish grin that might work on most women, but does absolutely nothing for me.