43. Nat

The music is banging and the fourth Negroni has finally done its job. I'm beginning to feel nicely buzzed, which was the whole point of the evening, according to Jane.

Amanda looks great. She's wearing a gorgeous green sheath dress with a slit up the thigh and spaghetti straps. It flatters her height and slim build perfectly and brings out the red highlights in her dark hair.

She's practically glowing this evening - her cheeks are flushed and her eyes sparkling. It's becoming increasingly obvious that my lovely friend has a hot new lover but she seems reluctant to tell us who he is.

I just hope she hasn't rekindled things with the lifeguard. The guy was a real prick in the way he treated her.

"You're late," Jane comments as we huddle around a table with our drinks, pointedly ignoring the three men in cheap suits who are doing their level best to attract our attention. They can all do one. Assholes, the lot of them.

"Yeah, needed to wash my hair," Amanda replies, tossing her locks over her shoulder and smirking.

"Yeah, right. Fine! Don't tell us who you've been banging. You know we'll get it out of you once you've had a few more drinks."

I snort with laughter. Jane's on the money as always. Amanda is a chatty drunk. She spills all her secrets once she's hammered.

"And that's why I'm not drinking cocktails!" Amanda grins, holding up her sparkling water.

"Bitch." Jane glowers but she's not mad really. Amanda will tell us when she's ready.

My neck prickles like someone's watching me, but when I turn, I can't see anyone. The three guys who were leering at us have given up and moved away. Thank god.

I try to focus on the conversation but the sensation I'm being watched doesn't go away. It's happened a lot lately. Everywhere I go, I feel like I'm being followed or watched. I can't decide if I'm being paranoid or I really am being watched.

It's disconcerting and also terrifying. But aside from the break-in at my apartment, nothing else has happened.

Jane elbows me to get my attention. "Dance?"

"Sure." Maybe dancing for a bit will get me out of my head. I down the rest of my drink and follow the girls to the dance floor. The DJ is playing Calvin Harris and Rhianna, This Is What You Came For, and before long, all thoughts of being watched disappear as the music blocks everything else out.

Forty minutes later, I'm sweaty and gross and ready for another drink. I'm not a huge fan of the next track so I leave Jane and Amanda shaking their asses to the music and head back to the bar.

There are no messages from Max on my phone. He hasn't messaged me since this morning and I can't help wondering if he's OK.

I'm sure he is. I mean, how dangerous can it be to manage luxury hotels? Not that I believe it's what he does all the time. I'm still convinced there's a whole lot he's not telling me, but it doesn't matter anyway.

Whatever we have going on is just casual.

He's probably bored of me by now.

I'm just another pretty face in a sea of gorgeous women.

"Negroni," I yell over the deafening thump of the music. The bartender - a different one this time - nods and starts mixing my drink. When he places it on the polished wood bar, I lift my phone to tap the payment terminal but a large hand stops me. Some cash is handed over and the barman takes it, ignoring me completely.

"What the hell?" I turn to glare at whoever thought it was OK to buy me a drink when I didn't ask for it, but to my surprise, Max is standing there glowering at me. As usual, he looks sinfully handsome.

The insults I had lined up stick in my throat.

"What? How!" OK, so I'm a little bit drunk. My verbal sparring skills have taken a massive hit thanks to too many Negronis.

He nods at someone I can't see and then leads me away from the bar, in the direction of the VIP seating area, which I definitely don't have a pass for.

The man in charge of the velvet rope lets us pass without comment. He's massive. At least six feet of muscle and an expression so devoid of personality it's as if a lump of granite grew limbs and pulled on a suit.

Max's hand sits against my lower back, warm and reassuring. He steers me toward a corner booth overlooking the dance floor. Thanks to her height, I can just about make out Amanda dancing like a crazy woman, but Jane is invisible.

They're probably wondering where the fuck I am. I stand but Max pulls me back down into his lap.

"My friends…" I manage to say before being overcome by his cologne. God, he smells good.

"They'll be here in a minute. Kolya is fetching them."

Sure enough, the girls appear two minutes later, wide-eyed and impressed by our upgrade to the VIP area. At least Jane is. Amanda wears a mutinous expression. She refuses to look at the tall muscular guy standing next to her while he scowls and clenches his fists like he wants to pummel someone into the floor.

It feels like I'm missing something important but the alcohol has befuddled my brain.

"Nat!" Jane yells when she sees me sitting on Max's lap. She rushes over in her spiked heels and slides into the booth. "Ooh, this is fun! Do we get complimentary drinks up here?"

"Yes, drinks are on me. Order anything you like." Max grins smugly.

"Champagne?" Her lips curve up and she buzzes with barely contained excitement.

"Of course. Anything."

"Woo hoo!" She fist-bumps the air and then does a cute little twirl. Kolya doesn't seem impressed though. He's too busy staring at Amanda in a suspiciously feral way that suggests he either wants to kill her or fuck her and hasn't quite decided which one.

Amanda sniffs and tosses her hair, inadvertently hitting him in the face. Then she sits down next to Jane and picks at the sequins on her dress.

I sigh with relief when a server appears. Maybe some expensive alcohol will rescue Amanda's mood before the evening crashes and burns.