“It serves you right for giving Lynch a hard time,” Sean says. “I can’t believe you asked if Sid was faking her anger. Right in front of her.”
“I’m surprised he didn’t kill you,” I add. “At the time, I didn’t understand the rage in his eyes, but looking back, you’re lucky to be alive.”
Blake shrugs. “He loves me.”
“Yeah, about as much as he loves chlamydia.” There’s a slight slur in Ryan’s words. How many drinks has he had?
“Who loves chlamydia?” Mason strides up to the booth, placing his cell in his jeans pocket. “Obviously I missed some riveting conversation.”
I shake my head. “Nope. Blake’s only stirring the pot again.”
“In that case.” He holds out a hand to me. “Come on, kitten. We need to get going.”
“Where to? I thought we’d go straight to dinner from here.”
Sean glances at his watch. “The women aren’t meeting us for another hour.”
“We’re no longer going to be able to join you guys.” Mason helps me to my feet.
“We’re not?” I pause.
“You’re not?” Mitch and Blake ask in unison.
“No. We’ve got somewhere else to be.” Mason wraps an arm around my waist, holding me gently at his side.
“Where?” I ask.
He gives a lazy salute to the guys in farewell. “It’s a surprise.”
My pulse skips a beat. “I think I’ve had enough of those today.”
“You’ll enjoy this one.” He leads me toward the front doors of the bar. “At least I hope you will.”
The car ride is quiet, the radio acting like a backing track to my mental sleuthing. I question every turn, every stoplight. But our final destination is home.
He pulls into the garage of the Goochland property and cuts the ignition. “You need to pack an overnight bag and get changed into something you’ll feel comfortable wearing to a nightclub.”
“A nightclub…” I repeat, hoping it will help the surprise sink in. We don’t do clubs. Not unless it’s a paid sponsor event. If Mason showed his face at a place full of drunken revelers, it’s highly likely screaming fans would tear him limb from limb.
“Make sure you wear your sexiest lingerie.” He turns his gaze to mine, his grin sinful. “And those strappy pumps I like.”
An overnight bag, a nightclub, and sexy lingerie.
Alarm bells ring in my ears. But unlike with Linden, I trust my fiancé unequivocally…I think…
“Go on.” He jerks his head at the door leading inside. “A car is coming to pick us up in fifteen minutes. We’ve got a tight deadline to get in the air within the hour, so I wouldn’t waste time.”
“We’re taking the jet?” My stomach dives. “I’ve only got fifteen minutes?”
“That’s right, kitten. I’d get moving if I were you.”
Shit. I scamper from the car and into the house, kicking off my shoes as I run for the bedroom and my walk-in closet.
I throw underwear, sleepwear, and a change of clothes onto the bed. Then I frantically shimmy out of my jeans while he casually enters the room.
I’m scrambling to open my lingerie drawer when he starts pulling on one of his black dinner suits.
A goddamn suit?
I drag out the first set of undergarments my fingers touch. It’s a brand-new matching black lace set with a choker harness, garter belt, and panties that I don’t realize are crotchless until I’ve tugged them up my thighs to fit snugly around my ass.
Shit. There’s no time to change.
I glance at Mason who’s already dressed and pulling my things off the bed to place in an overnight suitcase.
“Five minutes, kitten.”
I whimper and rush for the closet, ignoring how I look like I’m auditioning for adult entertainment while I tug a shimmering black dress off a coat hanger.
I’m fully dressed in seconds, the material so tight against my skin it makes the choker seem like part of the evening wear instead of a saucy secret hidden beneath.
“Four minutes,” Mason calls from the bedroom.
“I’m not going to be ready when the car arrives.” I hustle into the bathroom, grab every item from the counter, and shove it into a toiletry bag. “I need to fix my makeup.”
“No, you don’t. You’re beautiful without it.”
I glower as I return to the bedroom.
But there he is, seated on the edge of the bed, handsome as always as his eyes turn molten at the sight of me. His gaze leisurely treks my body. He doesn’t say another word. He doesn’t need to.
I hear his sordid thoughts as his tongue swipes out to lick his lower lip, his intensity sending a shiver down my spine.
This feels crazy—the spontaneity, the indulgence.
“Are we going to be safe at this club?” I dump my toiletry bag into the suitcase and return to the closet for my shoes.
“Yes.”
“Are you sure? Being out of town won’t stop people from recognizing you.”
He huffs a laugh. “Thanks for pointing out the obvious. But this place is different.”
“How?” I hop back into the bedroom as I drag on one of my Valentino pumps.
He zips the suitcase. “You’ll find out soon enough.”
Soon enough takes more than two hours in the jet to the most random of places—Beaumont, Texas.
I follow him from the aircraft into the warm spring air of the private airport to the waiting town car.
I stopped asking about our destination halfway here, after I’d already applied a fresh face of makeup and indulged in another alcoholic beverage. Mason refused to cave on any information. The only hint of what’s to come is the obsessive tapping of his thumb against his thigh.
He’s nervous. Or excited.
Either way, it fills my belly with frantic butterflies.
He sends a text or two while we’re driven through town. I attempt to discreetly read his screen only to have him tilt the writing from view with a grin.
“We’re almost there.” He keeps typing into his phone. “It’s right around the corner.”
I sit straighter, attempting to see over the front passenger seat as we take the bend.
There’re shopfronts. Businesses. Then a wall of glass giving sight to a glistening restaurant called a Taste of Sin. The tables inside are full of eating guests. There’s also a line of people stretched around the front of the building.
The car stops in a no parking zone out the front.
“Are we eating first?” I ask.
“Not unless you want to.” Mason jerks his chin to the dark, windowless building beside the restaurant. “We’re going in there.”
A Shot of Sin glows from the illuminated signage above the shadowed entry.
That’s what everyone is lined up for. They’re in orderly fashion in front of a wall of bouncers who examine ID before letting people in one by one. This place is super popular. All those club-goers will hyperventilate once we step outside.
“Mason…” My throat dries as the deep bass of dance music thrums through the car. “I know I said I didn’t want to be a hermit anymore, but this might be a little excessive.”