eight years later
Ivy
Getting the attention of Damien Sinclair has always been hard, but this time it is even harder. I have competition. Plenty of women in this club are doing everything they can to catch a smidgen of his attention, and that includes me. I’ve gone through every formal channel I can think of, and he has pre-emptively blocked me each time. I’ve done everything from setting appointments, writing him letters and even sitting in his lobby for hours on end, hoping to gain his attention. And where has that gotten me? Nowhere. This club is my last hope. Today is my last hope.
House of Hades is one of the most exclusive clubs in New York and Damien’s favorite hideout. As the club’s owner, Damien often spends his time in the exclusive section of the club known as the box. A glass cube on the second story, above the dancefloor. He usually hangs out with celebrities, socialites, and other fashionable people. That is why many people try not only to get into the club but into the club’s VIP section. I tried and failed miserably on week one. I came here every day hoping to sweet talk the bouncers into letting me into the box, but they all refused. This time I changed tact.
“Rowan, drinks.” I turn to the bartender and take the tray into my hands. Turns out, that applying to be a bottle service girl is easier than I thought. The club is short-staffed and has a high turnover of bottle service girls, and they happened to be looking for one when I applied. “Take ‘em to the boss.”
I nod and make my way upstairs. My heart is thumping in my throat as I pass the bouncers who let me pass easily and past the girls who are pretending to dance but occasionally glancing at Damien and the two guys he is entertaining. Like me, they’re all vying for Damien’s attention. According to the rumors, some nights, one lucky woman gets plucked and goes home with him. But all she can hope to get out of him is a one-night stand. I’m not looking for that. Been there, done that, got the t-shirt.
There’s also another guard at this door. This one looks less like a bouncer and more like a bodyguard. I raise my tray to indicate why I need entrance. For a moment, I think he’s going to just take the tray himself, but luckily, he lets me in. I let out a deep breath and enter.
Damien and the two men are sitting lazily on the sofa-looking chairs. All handsome, I notice. One is a well-known footballer who plays for a team that’s just won the Super Bowl and the other is only familiar to me because of my family’s business. He manages one of the biggest hedge funds on Wall Street. They all look relaxed and oblivious to the attention they’re drawing. Damien has his hand draped across the chair and looks bored. His gaze is on the floor below. There’s a table between them. I place the champagne and wine glasses on it and one of the two men says, “Champagne? To toast to the deal?”
I don’t know what to do next. Despite spending all my energy to get his attention, now that I am near him, I feel like a dog that has caught the car. I can’t just ask what I want from him or he’ll think I’m crazy. Or worse, he won’t listen and throw me outbefore I even have a chance of saying anything. “Should I pour the drinks or…”
Without sparing a glance at me, Damien says, “Uh, sure.” Then he does a double take. “What the--”
I try to smile, but it falters. “Hi.”
His face goes from shock to confusion to disgust. He snarls. “Security!”
“No please, wait. I need to talk to you. I have to talk to you.”
He stands up and grips my arm, ready to drag me out, but I root myself to the ground. “Please.” His eyes are a cold shade of gray and nothing about his rigid body says he’s willing to hear a word from me. “It’s urgent that I talk to you. I have something that you need. Something you’ve always wanted and I’m prepared to give it to you.”
One man chuckles. “Damn Damien, listen to the girl, won’t you? She sounds like she has some interesting stuff to say.”
“Shut up Hunter,” Damien spits out. But whoever this Hunter guy is, seems unperturbed and continues. “Is she one of your one-night stands? Is she pregnant? Are you pregnant?”
Damien drops my arm like it’s a hot piece of coal. “I would rather die than fuck her.” His tone makes me flinch. I know he hates me, but I didn’t imagine it was to this extent. He has murder in his eyes and the only thing stopping him from enacting it are the people surrounding us. I should have expected this, especially after how we ended. Where we even a ‘we?’ Only for one blissful night.
“I’ve been trying to contact you.” I try again.
“Don’t you mean stalking me?” He turns to his friends and says, “I don’t know if I told you this, but I have a stalker. Nolan Hawthorne’s daughter, in fact. Isn’t that funny?”
“Nolan Hawthorne?” the footballer says, “Isn’t he like in his thirties?”
Hunter leans in to whisper, “Senior.”
Damien smirks. “She’s been following me around like a puppy. Hounding my staff and now, as you can see, she has convinced some of them to hire her here.”
I want to throw back, “it wasn’t hard to get them to hire me without doing a proper background check.” I don’t want to give him too much ammunition than he already has. The guard he called was now standing by the door, ready to throw me out. “Then you must understand how badly I want to talk to you. How important it is.”
Damien narrows his eyes. Silence descends in the box and the sound only is the blaring music and the muffled voices outside. He sighs. “Garret. Take Hunter and Connor outside. There are some girls waiting for them they might like.”
“Now?” Hunter protests, and he looks disappointed that he could not be present for the drama, but he relents. They both shrug and get up. Hunter grabs the wine before following Connor, who follows Garret out of the box.
“Sit,” he says. “You have five minutes.”
I can’t believe it. Finally. My nerves are a wreck right now and I repeat a ‘calm down’ mantra in my head as I place one foot in front of another towards a chair. I choose the one Hunter was sitting in. His nosiness is the reason I got this far. Maybe I might rub some luck off it.
He slumps into his chair and folds his arms. My hands feel sticky. I rub them on my dress and begin my practiced speech.
“I have a business proposition.” Words catch in my throat, making my voice hoarse. He’s way more intimidating now that we’re alone. I can’t fully make out his features in the dim blue-gray light of the club, but it’s not difficult to tell that he’s still handsome. Time has been way kinda to him than it has been to me. Even though he’s much older and eight years have passed, he still looks like a Greek God. His cheeks are now more angularthan before, his eyelashes still dark and thick, and his eyes still as mesmerizing as before. I clear my throat and turn my gaze away from him.
“I have a business proposition. If you’ve always wanted a stake in Hawthorne Inc, I can make that happen for you. My stake, that is.”
