Julianna

Iwas going to hunt down the asshole who invented high heels and kill him. Yes, it was definitely a him. Because no woman in her right mind would have created such torture instruments and called them fashion. I'd beat him senseless with these platform soles, then stab him to death with the spiky heels of his own demonic creations.

Death by Manolos.

I wondered if that would be considered good or bad publicity?

I had made the mistake of walking to Club Luxe. It was only a twenty-minute walk from where I lived, but I wasn't used to walking in these things. My feet were already killing me.

I didn't know what had been going through my mind when I chose this outfit. The dress was a slim-fitting black bandage dress with lace detailing that fell to mid-thigh. Nora had bought me this dress and these shoes a few years ago in the hopes that I might actually have a hot date to wear them on. Out of everything I owned I thought it would be the most appropriate thing to wear to a club, seeing as they had a dress code. It had nothing to do with how Roman might react when he saw me again.

I stepped into the main room of Club Luxe and froze. It was set inside a refurbished old warehouse, the colored lights ricocheting off the exposed pipes along the open ceiling. The ultra-modern décor was all chrome and black lines. The music, a funky house beat with husky vocals in French, thumped through my body like a second heartbeat. Bodies wriggled like a blurry sexual mass on a small dance floor. There were booths and tables along the edges, beautiful people draped across the couches with cocktail glasses in hand, people who looked like they were comfortable here, people having fun.

I didn't belong here. What a dumb idea to come. Someone bumped me from behind and made a rude noise. I realized I was standing there like an idiot in the entranceway.

"Sorry," I muttered to no one in particular, the offended party having already disappeared into the throng. I lunged for the closest bar that ran most of the way along the right side and clutched at the onyx countertop as if it'd stop me from falling over. What now?

Well, I'd find Roman, tell him I couldn't see him again and leave.

I searched the crowd for him, trying not to catch anyone's eye or draw attention to myself. Pretty hard in a dress that felt like it kept riding up my thighs like a horny teenager's hand. It wasn't as skimpy as the daring barely-covering-the-ass uniform in here but it was still shorter than I usually wore my skirts.

Where was he? I couldn't see him from here.

Okay. One walk around. If he wasn't here, I was leaving.

I turned around with my back to the bar and lifted my chin, preparing myself to push my way through the club. I didn't move. There he was, standing across the room in a loose circle of guys and girls. I couldn't tell you what they looked like. The only thing that was in focus was him.

He was more beautiful than I remembered. A dark god among mortals. He looked like a fighter out of his suit, a boxer or MMA fighter, his fitted black t-shirt showing off his sculpted torso. His hips, encased in fitted designer jeans, swayed lightly to the music. I bet he was as hard as granite underneath those clothes. I bet every muscle was defined. Not that I cared anything about that.

That same ache I felt earlier today flared deep in my lower belly, this time harder and stronger. Dear God. I wanted him. I wanted him in a way I'd never wanted anyone before. The sudden realization made me shiver.

Go up to him. Talk to him. He's waiting for you.

I didn't move. What if he thought I was a desperate slut for coming here? What if I was a desperate slut for coming here? This wasn't me. I wasn't a girl who slept with strangers. I never chased after guys; I was never interested. Was this my repressed sexuality all coming out now with a bang, like Nora always threatened?

The others in his group all laughed at something, catching my attention. He smiled curtly and nodded. The laughter died down quickly as if they'd quashed it because he didn't approve of the joke. I could see them all turned towards him, facing him, leaning in, the other women around him eyeing him up. He barely noticed them. He had a slight frown on his face. He looked agitated or bored like he didn't want to be here. You and me both. Unlike me, he looked like he belonged.

I watched him search the club like a sniper studying his area. Two girls gyrated in front of him, smiles only for him, trying to catch his attention. He ignored them and continued to scan the crowd. I could taste their disappointment from here.

He was exactly the kind of man my mother would warn me about if she were alive. Dominant without trying, coiled power in his thick muscles. It wasn't just about his intimidating frame. There was an inherent leadership in the way he stood, self-assuredness and confidence, which made women want him and men want to be him. He was a born leader. People followed him without ever knowing why.

He'd be the best worst idea. I'd let him get close to me, I'd fall for him and he'd break my heart. Damn if it wouldn't be one hell of a ride down. I let out the breath I'd been holding. I was way out of my depth. I had to leave now before he spotted me.

He pulled out his phone and I watched, mesmerized as he typed out a text. My phone in my bag buzzed. Holy shit. That text was for me. I had to go. Now!

Before I could move, he looked up. Our gazes fused together and a thrill rushed down my body. My heart jumped up into my throat and started beating so loudly that the music dulled. Too late to leave now. He'd seen me. Just say hello then leave.

Or go home with him and never leave.

Shit. He was coming over here.