Page 71 of The VIP Doubles Down

How appropriate.

Chapter 18

Allie could tell when someone was faking it. Gavin wasn’t. He leaned heavily on her as they wove across the thick carpeting of the bar. She was accustomed to holding up those who were unsteady on their feet, but Gavin was much larger than she was, and she usually had some equipment to help her. She had to wedge herself against his warm, hard body to keep him upright.

Which was the best kind of torture, as she felt the imprint of his fingers on her shoulder, the lean strength of his oblique muscle under her palm, the graze of his thigh against her hip, and the heat of him infusing his cashmere sweater. The scent of expensive bourbon wafted past her nostrils as he exhaled a huff of frustration when he veered off course.

Either he was much drunker than he wanted to admit or he wasn’t lying about how he reacted to alcohol.

As they emerged from the bar, Frankie appeared at the top of the stairs. “I think you’d better use the elevator,” she said, gesturing down the hallway. “I don’t want a lawsuit for two broken necks. Jaros will meet you at the back entrance so you don’t have to deal with the front steps, either.”

“Frankie, you are an arch manipulator,” Gavin said. “How did you guess that my little slip of an Allie could practically carry me out bodily?”

“I know a strong woman when I see one,” Frankie said, giving Allie a wink.

“Considering the amount of money I pay to belong to this club, I would think you’d let me get drunk here in lonely majesty,” Gavin said.

“You weren’t meant to drink alone,” Frankie said as the elevator door slid open.

Gavin stumbled forward into the elevator, taking Allie along with him.

Frankie leaned in and pushed the lowest button. “Vincent will meet you downstairs.”

“Thank you for everything,” Allie called out as the door glided closed.

She thought she caught a smile of satisfaction on Frankie’s face, but her glimpse was too brief to be sure.

The club owner was more proof that Gavin could command loyal friendship.

Gavin braced himself against the wall, taking some of his weight off Allie’s shoulders. “I knew you’d come,” he said.

She wished she could see his face to find out if that was good or bad. “You didn’t make it easy.”

“It was the Bellwether Club or Southampton, so be grateful I chose the former.”

The doors slid open on a stone-floored hallway with flickering wall sconces that were shaped like human arms holding torches. The security guard, Vincent, stood waiting.

As Gavin staggered out of the elevator, Vincent stepped forward to lift the writer’s other arm onto his shoulders.

“Thank you,” Allie said with sincerity as her load lightened.

“Yes, ma’am,” Vincent said.

“I feel like a sack of coal,” Gavin complained.

“Yes, you do,” Allie said. “A very heavy one.”

Gavin laughed, and she felt him shift more of his weight away from her.

Vincent steered them out a door made of massive wooden planks bound together by medieval-looking metalwork.

“It’s a dungeon,” Allie murmured, entertained by Frankie’s whimsy.

“But Frankie won’t tell me where the torture chamber is,” Gavin said.

The Bentley gleamed in the light cast by a heavy iron lantern, and Jaros leaped forward to help guide Gavin into the backseat.

Allie settled in beside him, waving her appreciation to Vincent before Jaros closed the door with a solid thunk. The privacy screen was raised, and Jaros’s voice came through the intercom. “Home, Mr.Gavin?”