We chugged the champagne in a record-breaking thirty minutes. Once I had confirmed that we would not be paying for it, it was game over. The second bottle of champagne was a mistake. In hindsight, we should have summoned some more decorum from somewhere inside us, if such a place exists.
Now I’m on the dance floor talking to a gorgeous guy, but I need to break wind. The champagne bubbles have caused severe gastric distress.
I look over at Orla. She appears to be having her face licked by my guy’s friend.
They both work at hedge funds on Wall Street. Honestly, I don’t know what a hedge fund is. I think of a room filled with people waving tickets and screaming “buy” or “sell,” though I’m sure it doesn’t work like that nowadays.
My guy doesn’t seem bothered by my lack of hedge fund knowledge. He wants a shag, and I’m considering giving it to him.
He’s better than the last guy I talked to, who thought I’d split my sides laughing at him doing a fake Irish accent, shouting “to be sure, to be sure!”
Yup, like I haven’t heard that one before.
American Andy presses his lips against mine, going for the kill. He’s minty enough for me to invite him into my mouth. With his tongue in my mouth, I rub my stomach without him noticing.
He breaks the kiss. His eyes look a bit chaotic. “Wanna fuck?”
I rear back, shocked. Dirty bastard. Chivalry is dead.
“Getting straight to the point there,” I reply dryly.
He’s about to lean in for another kiss when abruptly, he detaches himself from me.
“What the hell?” American Andy sneers. “Get lost.”
I blink for a second, thinking he’s talking to me. Did I relax my stomach too much, and one slipped out?
Then I realize that two doormen surround us. One of them has their hand on American Andy’s chest.
“Get your hands off me,” American Andy says, his agitation rising. I think he might be on something. His pupils are pretty wild.
“It’s time to leave, Clodagh.” It’s the doorman from outside. Does he have a photographic memory that he remembers everyone’s names from their IDs? “Time to go. Your lift is waiting.”
I look back and forth between Andy and the doormen, perplexed. “Am I getting kicked out for kissing?”
“No.” Doorman number two steps in. “You’re getting escorted home.”
I feel surrounded. “Why?”
“Because my employer says so,” doorman one says in a strained voice that says hurry the fuck up, lady.
My eyes narrow. “Your employer?”
“Mr. Quinn.”
“He’s the owner of the club?”
“Yes.”
Of course, he never thought of mentioning it to me.
Fuck this shit. It’s not even midnight. I’m not Cinde-fucking-rella.
“He’s my employer too, but I don’t understand. Why do I need to leave?”
He sighs heavily and gives me a sour look. “Look, I dunno, lady. Can we do this the easy way? I don’t have all night.”
Doorman number two has wedged an arm through mine, and doorman number one is encroaching on Orla’s bubble.
“I’m not working now,” I snap. “I’m on my own time.”
“You’ll have to take that up with Mr. Quinn. Good luck,” he deadpans as he leads me through the dance floor.
“This is against my constitutional rights!” I think. Killian Quinn can go to hell. Who does he think he is? His arrogance is off the charts. He doesn’t own me. He doesn’t dictate what I do with my free time.
Something stronger pushes through the trapped wind burning me up.
Rage.
Killian Quinn is going to fucking have it.
***
I don’t give myself time to change my mind.
I push open his bedroom door and storm toward his bed without turning on the light, until I’m standing with my hands on my hips, glaring at him.
He’s awake.
The light from his bedside table casts shadows on his face, simultaneously making him look even more devastatingly attractive and deadly.
The blankets are pushed down to the V of his lower stomach. I’m momentarily distracted by the dark pubic hair. He’s naked under those covers.
His eyes flash with anger as he takes me in.
Shivers go through me, but I spread my legs into a defiant stance and square my shoulders. Chest puffed out. Butt clenched.
I’m the alpha here. You don’t scare me, mister.
“How dare you!” I splutter.
“What the fuck are you doing?” His voice comes out in a husky growl as he rises onto his forearms.
It’s then I notice the book beside him, momentarily disarming me. Hot guys reading… it doesn’t get any sexier than that.
I find myself wavering but forge ahead. He’s the asshole here. “You can’t just demand I come home on my own time. You don’t own me. Orla and I were having a lovely night, then I was manhandled and ordered to go home.” I gulp in a deep breath. I’m on a roll here. “You can’t ground me like you do Teagan. I’m not your property.” Spit sprays from my mouth as I hiss my last words.
Attractive.
He responds with a fixed glare, not giving away any emotion. “Everything in this house is my property.”
“Ugh!” I screech in an angry huff because it’s all I’m capable of.
It’s the sneer on his lips that sets me off again as his gaze burns into me.
I refuse to wither.
“Do you get off on being a jerk? Do you?” I snap, not expecting an answer. “Controlling people is your version of porn. Yes, Mister Quinn,” I say in a patronizing sneer verging on a baby voice. “Three bags full, Mister Quinn. Just when I was getting to know Hedge Fund Andy, you ruined our chance at something special.” Lies.
I see his whole body go rigid, every muscle in his massive chest tightening. His jaw clenches. His nostrils flare. Angry breath leaves his lungs.
I feel the air crackle with his wrath.
The sheets rustle.
Fuck. He’s on the move.
The sheets are flung off, and his legs are out of the bed. He stands to his full height at the side of the bed, treating me to a full moon.
As he comes at me, not giving two fucks that his massive cock is now on display, I realize I have no follow-up plan.
“That’ll be all. Good night!” I bark before turning on my heels and skittering out of his bedroom.