Unlawful Attraction: The Complete Box Set: Alpha Billionaire Romance (17 page)

Arik

Grinding music, the pulse of lights as they danced over bodies moving to the rhythm...all of it wrapped around me.

And all of it blocked me from seeing the one person I’d come here hoping to find.

The first time I’d seen Dena at Club Privé had been on a Friday.

It was Friday.

Ergo, she should be here.

That was my mental reasoning, simple as it was.

Except she wasn’t here.

After nearly thirty minutes of cruising around the dance floor and watching the bar on the lower level, I still hadn't seen her. Wondering if I was wasting my time, I started toward the stairwell, intending to go to the VIP section and see if that offered a different perspective.

On anything.

Why didn’t you get her phone number, genius?

A phone number smacks of commitment
, I told the idiot in my head.
An expectation that there was something more than the physical involved here.

I was a lawyer. I knew how to make a logical argument, even with myself.

I hardly ever asked a woman for a number. If we bumped into each other, that was all well and good. Even the sub I’d had a semi-regular thing with back in Chicago hadn't been someone with whom I'd had phone conversations. We’d exchanged emails through private accounts, but outside of having to cancel previously-arranged engagements, we hadn't communicated. Certainly not about anything personal.

But as I worked my way through the crush of bodies, any number of men and women made their way off toward the private rooms, reminding me that I was still waiting. If I’d gotten Dena’s number, the two of us could've already been in a room.

I hadn’t done it though.

And I was beginning to feel like my commitment reasoning was more an excuse than a logical argument.

I wasn’t commitment-phobic or anything like that. I didn’t have some ugly past relationship that made me shy away from another woman. Actually, if it'd been that, it might've been better. Maybe then, at least, I could explain why I was so reluctant.

I just didn’t want the commitment.

Except now, I wasn't so sure.

I wanted more with Dena, but I didn't know what that meant. Or how to handle it.

I sighed. Maybe the problem was that I didn't actually know what I wanted.

But I did know, I forced myself to admit, at least to an extent.

I wanted
her
.

I could see myself wanting to know more
about her, and I already wanted more from
her than I'd ever wanted from a Sub. Like a phone number. And...

Shit. I closed my eyes for a moment as the realization hit me. I didn’t even know her last name.

I knew she smelled like sweetness and sin, and that she felt and tasted even better. I knew that her hair was silk under my hands, her skin satin. I knew that she liked to submit, but not all the time,
and that she had a wicked, dry sense of humor.

I knew she could make me burn.

I knew she was both strong and soft.

But I didn’t know her phone number or her last name.

All the things I did know were intimate details, the sort of things a lover should know, but none of it would help me find her.

I swore under my breath. I’d been convinced she’d be here, but it looked like I was wrong.

“You sound like some idiot kid with his first crush,” I muttered to myself as I reached the VIP area.

I spied a relatively isolated spot and moved toward it, once more eying the crowd for Dena, looking for the one part of her petite body I thought would most likely stand out in a crowd. Her white-blonde hair.

The upper level gave me a better view, but it also made one thing clear.

Dena wasn’t here.

“Back again, are you?”

At the voice, I looked up to see Gavin coming my way. He moved to join me at the railing, resting his elbows on it, his stance similar to mine.

“It would seem that way,” I answered easily.

When one of the servers came by, I asked for some scotch. She named the brand I ordered last week and I nodded confirmation. As she walked away, I looked over at Gavin, curious.

“What do you do, provide them with ID cards for the VIP members along with our purchase history so they know what it is we like to drink? Flash cards, maybe?”

“I think it'd be a bad idea to give away trade secrets.” He grinned.

Trade secrets.
Dena had used the same phrase. I went back to studying the dance floor for her, as if she might've materialized in the last few seconds.

“Are you looking for somebody?” Gavin asked.

I almost shrugged the question off, but the man standing next to me was the owner. Who better to ask than him?

“Actually, yeah. I met up with a woman last week. First saw her down on the dance floor.” I nodded toward it, my eyes still studying the throng of bodies. She wasn’t there, but I couldn’t seem to keep from searching for her. “Petite, blonde hair.”

“That could be any number of women. I assume she was a sub?”

From the corner of my eye, I could see him watching me, but I didn’t turn toward him. Whether he could help me or not, I was going to find her. It was just a matter of when. A matter of time. A matter of patience. Normally patience wasn’t much of an issue with me, but I had little when it came to Dena.

Why hadn’t I gotten her phone number?

“A sub,” I mused over how to answer his question.

With just about anybody else, the answer would have been simple. But
simple
described nothing about Dena. Nothing at all.

“The first time I saw her, she’d been dancing with a couple of...well, they weren’t much more than boys. I imagine they thought she was a sub.” I looked over at Gavin finally. “She’s more complicated than that. Her name was Dena. She’s about...”

I had been getting ready to give a physical description beyond petite and blonde when I saw something flicker across his eyes. It was brief, but enough. “You know her.”

At that moment, the server arrived with our drinks and Gavin lapsed into silence as she delivered mine.

“Mr. Porter's is on the house tonight, Angel,” he said.

“Of course.” Her eyes slid to mine and she gave me a nod that was only polite. Employees were off-limits at Club Privé. Once we were alone again, Gavin tipped his glass in my direction.

“Yes,” he said quietly. “I know Dena.” He took a sip of his drink, seeming to mull over his words.

As the silence stretched out, a fiery, tight sensation settled in my belly. I wasn’t sure I liked it.

It was jealousy. Didn’t take an idiot to figure that out. Something about the way Gavin had said he knew Dena made me think he really
did
know her. And not just in passing like he knew me. He knew her for real.

And I didn’t even have her damn phone number.

Gavin was stupid in love with his wife, but that wasn’t particularly reassuring. In our world, it wasn’t odd to be in love and still have an open relationship. For all I knew, Gavin and Carrie liked to share. The problem was, I couldn’t wrap my head around it because the idea of sharing my woman with anybody else...

Shit.

My woman.

I actually thought those words. I thought them and they'd been accompanied by jealousy and possessiveness rather than panic and frustration.

Gavin's eyes narrowed and he took a step toward me.

“Dena's a close friend of mine, one of Carrie’s best friends.”

The knot in my stomach eased some. He hadn't said that she was part of something with him and Carrie. He'd said friend.

He continued, “I’m going to offer you some advice. Be careful with her.” He paused, and then added, “I’m not going to say something stupid like keep your hands off of her. That'd be pointless considering where we are. However, if you hurt her...”

He let the sentence trail off so I could imagine how he'd finish it. I was pretty sure I wouldn't like it no matter what.

He nodded at my drink. “Enjoy, but you’re not going to find Dena here tonight. She already left.”

Before he could walk away, I opened my mouth to...do what? Reply? Assure him I wasn’t out to hurt anybody? I had no idea how I felt, and the words didn’t want to come anyway.

Gavin cocked his eyebrow, waiting. “Is this when you tell me that she’s a big girl and can take care of herself?”

I snorted. “I think you probably know that by now if you’re friends with her.”

We held each other's gazes for a few seconds longer, and then he turned to walk away.

I called out, “Hey, Gavin?”

He paused.

“She’s a big girl. She can take care of herself.”

His laugh was quick and sharp. “I think I could like you, Porter.” He half-turned. “Tell you what, let me offer you some advice. You don't need to be careful with her because of me, even though I will beat your ass if you hurt her. She could cut your balls off, and you wouldn’t even see the knife until you were on the floor. Dena...well, as you said. She’s complicated.”

I nodded at him, and he left without either of us saying another word. I didn’t bother finishing my drink. She wasn’t here, so there was no reason for me to be.

Next time, I told myself, I’d get her phone number.

Chapter 8

Dena

I picked up the book at the store two weeks ago, hoping I’d be able to read it soon. Now, it lay on the floor next to my chair while I stared up at the ceiling. I’d tried three times today to read it, and it hadn’t been able to hold my interest for anything. I didn’t think it was the book or the author, either.

My head wasn’t exactly here.

My thoughts bounced back and forth from Arik to the case, making me feel like one of those little silver balls inside a pinball machine.

Arik.

The case.

Arik.

The case.

Arik.

My bitch of a boss.

Arik.

The reports, missing or hidden.

Arik.

The witness I still hadn't been able to find.

Arik.

Some sort of connection to organized crime.

Arik.

Arik.

Arik.

Swearing, I jack-knifed up into a sitting position and stared at the exposed brick on the far wall. This place was my haven, my home. I loved every square inch of it, but right now, it felt like the walls were closing in around me.

I didn’t really
want
to go out, but if I didn’t leave here, I was going to go insane.

The idea of hitting Club Privé seemed off-putting, yet if I was going to have a decent chance of finding Arik anywhere, it would be there. I’d gone in for about an hour last night, but hadn’t had any success. A part of me couldn't help but wonder if he'd purposefully avoided the club so he didn't have to see me. I told myself that was silly, but I couldn't quite completely shut off that voice.

Rubbing my hands over my face, I tried once more to tell myself to just try to get into the book. Or maybe head up to Times Square, see what was playing in the theatre district. There were always shows. I could see a play. I hadn’t been to one in forever.

That idea wasn’t at all appealing.

I just continued to sit there, even though in the back of my mind, I knew what I would be doing soon.

I’d go to the club.

I’d go and try to find Arik.

It was, really, the only thing I could do. Unless I wanted to grab my vibrator and a bottle of wine and pretend. But I’d done that last night.

It hadn’t helped.

***

“I have to ask, just who are you looking for?”

Carrie’s insightful eyes cut into me and I winced, lowering my gin and tonic back to the table. “That obvious?”

“Well, gee. Let me think...” She leaned back in the booth, one arm draped along the back, her nails tapping against the cushions in time with the music coming from the dance floor. “You’re wearing your best
come get me
clothes. You’re wearing heels, and you hardly ever wear actual heels. It’s usually those platform boots, which frankly, terrify me. You can’t seem to look at me–”

“Oh, I’m looking at you, sweetie,” I said with a sardonic lift of my eyebrow. “And, by the way, those boots are a lot easier to walk in than heels. You should try them. Great for cutting down the difficulties that come with height differences.” I grinned at her.

Her eyes narrowed as she threw a chip at me.

“Don’t waste good food.” I wagged a finger at her.

“Why? You’re not eating it.” She countered as she gestured at the finger foods she ordered when I had arrived.

Normally I ate like a horse, but I'd barely eaten anything, a combination of distraction and anxiety taking away most of my appetite.