Ethan Holt was sexier than anything playing out on those screens.
“I don’t know.” Zayne stretched his long legs out, crossing his booted feet on the coffee table. “You ducked out on me today before I had a chance to ask.”
“I didn’t duck anywhere. Can you take your feet off there?”
“No.” Zayne grinned, making Ethan grind his molars. “And if you weren’t ducking anywhere, why’d you leave?”
“I’m a week behind on the books and thought I’d get a head start. Someone has to make sense of your high-tech accounting system.”
Zayne snorted. “Hey, I got down every transaction I made.”
“Half of which are on crumpled napkins.”
“Yeah, well, that’s why I’m lucky to have you watching my back.”
Ethan picked up his glass of whiskey, then leaned back in his seat and took a sip. “Mmm, and what a fine back it is.”
Zayne’s cock automatically responded to the compliment, which reminded him of what he’d originally come down there to talk about.
“So, this bad mood of yours. Is it gone?”
“I didn’t realize I was in a bad mood.”
“Yeah, I’m pretty sure it swept in at around white wristband time.”
Ethan arched a brow.
“Okay, maybe not a bad one. Maybe a frustrated one?”
“I can’t argue with that. It’d been a long week, and when I got home, I had a plan.”
“Which went to shit pretty fast.”
“So it did.”
And that was the crux of it. Ethan hated when things didn’t go according to plan. As he was a stickler for control, a night like last night would’ve been planned out from the second he stepped into the club to when they’d laid eyes on each other. The only piece missing from the equation would’ve been their third, and once Ethan had set his sights on Red, he’d locked in.
So finding out they couldn’t have her? Well, that’d left him a little surly.
“You still pissed about it?” Zayne asked.
Ethan drained his glass and sat up in his chair, picking up a piece of paper from his desk as he got to his feet. He walked over to where Zayne sat and looked down at him. “I don’t know if pissed is the right word.” He held out the piece of paper. “But I’m definitely something.”
“Look, if I fucked up on some calculation or charge, we both know you’re going to be the one to fix it.”
And that was the damn truth. Running the business was Ethan’s department. He looked after the finances and balanced all the books.
Zayne, on the other hand, was the host of the club and the one who drummed up business from the rich and influential. After all, what was the use of having an uptight asshole of a father if he couldn’t use the senator’s name and contacts to corrupt all his “friends”? They had a deal, and it was the only reason they still had any kind of contact.
“You didn’t fuck up.” Ethan handed the piece of paper over. “But someone did.”
Zayne glanced down at the guest file that had been printed out. In one corner was a driver’s license and an image of a woman in her early forties. She had curly red hair, green eyes, and a nice smile. He read over the file and tried to work out what Ethan was getting at.
“I don’t see the problem. She was here last night? Looks like she paid for a general pass only and was a guest of…Shayla Bianchi? Oh yeah, I know Shayla.”
Zayne looked up to see Ethan’s lips curl. “So do I, and she’s a lot younger than her early forties. Which got me thinking as to who this friend of hers might be.”
Ethan picked up the remote on the coffee table then turned and aimed it at the televisions mounted on the wall. Four still frames of a very familiar woman stared back at them, and one of them placed her at the front desk with a Miss Shayla Bianchi.
“I’d like you to meet Red. Or whoever the hell she is.”
“FRUSTRATED” BARELY BEGAN to scratch the surface of what Ethan had felt last night when he discovered that Red was off-limits.
For someone like Zayne—or one of their best-trained subs—frustration could be a good thing, a thrill, a turn-on—he understood that. But for him, it was nothing more than an irritant. A stop light at the beginning of a chase. A roadblock. And last night it had exposed a chink in his usually unwavering control.
He didn’t like to be told what he could and could not have, which was why the wristbands had been implemented at the club in the first place. It gave him the upper hand, allowed him to assess a situation and potential third before he became invested. But he’d been too eager last night. He’d let the hunger of being gone so long build, and in the end, it tripped him up.
He had no one to blame but himself. He was frustrated and annoyed and knew he would’ve taken it out on Zayne, which was why he’d avoided him today. Instead, he’d come down to the office with the intention of working on the books. The only problem was, the second he set foot in the club, he’d been reminded of last night, and the woman with the wide, guileless eyes who’d slipped through their fingers—which was how they ended up here.
Ethan moved to stand beside Zayne at the monitors. “She look familiar?”
“Of course, but not from this.” Zayne held up the guest profile. “You telling me she used a fake ID to get in the club last night?”
“That’s exactly what I’m telling you.”
“So...she’s underage?”
“For drinking? Yes. That’d be my guess. She looks too innocent to be any kind of undercover anything.”
Zayne smirked. “You gotta admit, though, that would be effective. She has a face that would make anyone believe she was a naïve little thing.”
“Hmm.” Ethan looked back to the screens, where there was an image of the three of them at the bar. “She wasn’t, though, was she?”
“Huh?”
“Naïve.” Ethan zeroed in on the gorgeous woman with the flowing, flame-colored hair. “She was bold and—”
“Direct as hell?” Zayne chuckled. “I mean, she almost seemed excited by the idea she might need protection from us.”
Exactly, and it was that bold eagerness that still had Ethan’s cock interested hours later. Not that it mattered. It was never going to happen. She was off-limits. Gone from their lives with a snap of the fingers.
Hell, she wasn’t even who she said she was.
Ethan flicked the cameras back to the live feed, annoyed all over again.
“You still want her,” Zayne said, following him back to his desk. “Don’t you?”
Yes, he did. He wanted to watch Zayne tie her up so they could fuck the innocence right out of her.
“And you don’t?”
“I didn’t say that.”
Ethan’s dick hardened at the hunger in Zayne’s eyes. “She intrigues me. There has only been one other person to do that.”
A smug grin curved Zayne’s lips. “And look how good that turned out.”
Ethan ran his eyes down Zayne’s ripped body, a body he’d known in so many ways it was difficult to count. But one thing that had always been clear was that no matter what version of Zayne he was dealing with—a rebellious teen in a pompous private school uniform, or a cocky fuck in jeans and a black tank that showed off his tattooed arms—he always made Ethan’s cock ache.