Chapter 20: Chapter 20

I stand and walk to the massive window in my office—it’s a one-way window, meaning I can look out, but all people see from the other side is tinted glass. My office is above the club floor, so I’m able to get a good look at it.

I don’t look out to be a creep or anything—I like to think of it as my way of keeping control of the club. The DJ, people dancing, kissing, people drinking at the bar. I see their figures, but the club is dark, the random flashing lights making it hard to see anyone in detail.

“Evans

I turn around and look at Elana, my right hand. She runs my finances, takes care of my clubs, and honestly, she does more work than I do. She’s tall with short blonde hair and fair skin and she’s wearing a rose-pink pencil dress.Elana’s an attractive woman and I’ve known her since I opened my first bar.

“Are you listening?” she asks with a smile.

“I’m sorry,” I apologize.

“It’s okay, it’s been a long day. I get it.”

I nod slowly, looking out the window again. “Yeah…it has.”

“Are you still thinking about opening one in California?” Elana asks, walking toward me.

Right. I was planning on opening a new club until a few weeks ago…when it happened. Ciara losing the baby affected me more than I want to admit. When she got pregnant, I looked at everything in a new light. Something bad would happen at work and I’d stress about it until I reminded myself that my baby was growing—suddenly, everything would be better. Now I don’t have that. Everything’s different.

“Actually, I’m not sure anymore.”

“Why not?” Elana asks. “A space just opened up close to the beach. I think it’s perfect.”

I turn to look at her. “I don’t know. I just—I already don’t visit the ones in Miami as much as I should. I’m always so busy here; I don’t think I’d be able to add another to my workload right now.”

Actually, adding more to my workload has been helping me stay busy. I like being busy, so normally I would have jumped at the thought of opening another club, but it doesn’t feel right. Nothing is clear right now.

“Are you alright?” she asks, placing her hand on my shoulder.

“Yeah. Like I said,” I look out the window again, the bodies swaying in the dark. “It’s been a long day.”

Yes, it has been a long day. I’m tired and can’t see everything through this window so it would make sense…that I’m mistaken…it can’t be…

I reach for the iPad on my desk and open an app that gives me access to all the cameras around the clubs. It is truly amazing—I can see live cameras from my clubs in Miami. I love the control it gives me. I go straight to the cameras for Barcode.

“Evans? Everything all right?”

“Yeah—” I say, zooming in.

Sure enough, Ciara is sitting at the bar with a group of girls and she’s…drinking. She looks different. Maybe it’s just someone that looks a lot like her.

“I’ll be right back,” I tell Elana, then walk out of my office. One of the bodyguards at my door comes with me while the other stays. The music is loud, jarring. I don’t think I’ll ever really get used to it.

I make my way through people, grateful for my bodyguard who opens the way for me. I stop when I get to the bar. The bartender nods at me. “Can I get you anything, boss?” he screams over the music, preparing a drink.

I shake my head, looking around. There’s a couple flirting…some guys…then I see the group of girls, but I don’t see her. I probably did confuse her for someone else. The bartender places a drink on the bar at the same time one of the girls moves to the side and…there she is.

Oh, it’s definitely Ciara.

But she does look different. She has on a hint of makeup, her hair is loose around her shoulders, and she’s wearing a dress. A short dress that hugs her curves and exposes her perfect, long legs. But it’s not just the way she’s dressed; she looks different because she’s drunk. I watch as she takes a shot while her friends cheer and she orders another.

This can’t be the same Ciara

I consider going up to her, but her friends drag her to the dance floor. She’s laughing hysterically like she’s heard the funniest joke on earth as she dances. She looks so free. Ciara’s always so worried about everything—it’s refreshing to see her laughing, having a good time.

“I’ll have a whiskey,” I tell the bartender as I get comfortable.

“Coming right up, boss.”

For someone that doesn’t go out much,Ciara is an incredibly good dancer and it’s impossible not to notice how good she looks in that dress. I never thought watching her would be so entertaining, and I can’t help but smile. My smile fades when a guy approaches her from behind, grinding against her; she doesn’t seem to notice. I clench my jaw—I know it’s none of my business. She has every right to have fun…

I shake my head, already walking toward them. “Not like this.”

She looks up and frowns when she sees me. “Evans?” I reach for her arm and pull her to me, glaring at the guy. He’s drunk and takes a step toward me, but my bodyguards step in. I turn around and realize Ciara’s gone but I finally notice her back at the bar.

“Ciara” I scream over the music.

“Oh no, it is you,” she says, raising a finger while she grabs another shot.

I take it from her hand. “I think you’ve had enough to drink.”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” she snaps, taking her drink back. “Don’t you have work to do? Go.”

I chuckle. “You’re bossy. I like it.”

“Ciara!” We turn to look at one of her friends as she walks up to us. “Is everything—” she says but stops when she sees me. “Oh—you’re Evan.”

I smile, realizing I’ve been smiling a lot today. “Hi.” I offer her my hand.

“I’m Flora!”

“Nice to meet you!”

She smiles then turns to look at Ciara who’s resting her head on the bar. “Are you okay?”

“I think I’m going to take her home,” I say, getting closer to her so she can hear me. “If that’s okay.”

“Oh.” Flora looks surprised. “Of course—I think she had too much to drink.”

I laugh. “That’s an understatement.”

She laughs then says something to Ciara, who just nods. I grab Ciara’s arm and help her stand, putting my arm around her waist.

“Thank you! Flora says.

“No problem,” I say as we walk past her. My car is brought to me, but I ask my bodyguard to drive. Ciara’s quiet during the ride, staring out the window.

When we get home, I pick up Ciara and carry her bridal-style.

“What are you doing? I can walk,” she protests.

“Sure you can,” I say as my bodyguard opens the door for us.

“You’re so annoying. Why are you always so annoying?” she asks, smelling like tequila.

“I like to have control.” We get on the elevator.

“Do you hate me?” she suddenly asks.

I look at her. Her hair is messy and her makeup is no longer perfect; she stares back at me without a problem—something sober Ciara wouldn’t do. “I don’t hate you. Why would I?”

“You’re always mean.”

“I’m mean to everyone,” I say, rolling my eyes and walking out of the elevator.

“Do you hate everyone?”

I smile at her. “Something like that.”

“So you do hate me, then.”

I set her down outside the condo but kept one arm around her. She’s so beautiful and—for a second—I allow myself to admit how sexy she looks in her dress. “Why do you care so much?”

She laughs. “That’s a good question.”

I like this Ciara—she’s not afraid to speak to me and she says whatever pops to her head. I want to enjoy drunk Ciara a little longer.

“Go in,” I tell her softly when I open the door.

“You always intimidate me,” she says, walking inside before turning to look at me. “Do you like intimidating people?”

I lock the door then look at her. She’s closer than I anticipated, and without thinking, I reach out and tuck stray hair behind her ear. “I didn’t know I intimidated you.”

“You do,” she says quietly. “You’re so scary and bigger than me and well…you’re not ugly.”

I smirk. “Are you calling me handsome?”

“Yes, I’m, but it’s not like you didn’t already know. You must have women falling at your feet all the time.”

“Not all of them.”

She smiles. “Are you talking about me?”

“You tell me,” I whisper.

She takes a step closer, and in her heels, she’s almost as tall as me. She reaches out and her hand moves down my cheek, touching me softly. I’m frozen, surprised by how much I like it. How much I like her. My gaze drops to her lips—they are full and puffy and so…inviting.

“I might kiss you…”

She looks at me. “I might not remember.

I chuckle. “I’m okay with that.”

Then I close the gap between us.