Prologue
RINA
The guy I’ve been staring at for the last hour doesn’t even know I exist.
“Either go up to him or let it go,” Savannah says, drinking her virgin martini with tiny, dainty sips as if the nonalcoholic drink will leave her hungover tomorrow when she’s back to work and saving lives. I don’t have the same issue. Tonight is my last night in this city. “He’s seriously not worth your time. Hot, but not New Year’s hookup worthy.”
“Now it’s become more of a game than anything else,” I explain. “I’m tempted to chuck something across the room just to see how close I can get to hitting him.”
“No. You’re looking at him because he’s easy pickings. If you stood in front of him he’d see cute boobs and blonde hair and do anything you asked of him. Bo-ring,” she singsongs. “Besides, his dude-bro behavior suggests his blood alcohol level is likely higher than his IQ.”
She’s not wrong with that. On both accounts. Cute, malleable, not-so-smart guys are the only ones I go near lately. The other ones… the smart, cocky, gorgeous, masters of the universe ones? Yeah, they’re dangerous.
And I no longer have space or time for dangerous. With good reason.
“He’s a douchemonger,” my brother Carter states flatly. “If you’re that determined to find a midnight kiss, keep looking. I’m giving that guy a hard no.”
I snort. A midnight kiss? So cute. So brotherly.
What I’m looking for is my last night in New York to leave me with something other than what my previous three years have been.
Terror. Pain. Chaos. Torment. Nightmares.
I made it through when no one thought I would. When everyone told me there was no shame in transferring schools and coming back home. I stayed and I don’t regret that. If anything, staying made me stronger. But tonight, I don’t want to think about the past. Tonight, I want to have some fun and let loose in a way I haven’t been able to before.
Having two of my five older brothers as well as Savannah and her husband here helps.
When your fortress is still in disrepair after someone smashed it down, you surround yourself with those who will keep you strong.
“Or maybe you should stop looking,” my brother Oliver chimes in. “That guy is surrounded by easy pussy, Rina. He is the last dude in this bar you should be going for. Besides, you’re leaving in the morning. It’s not like anything can come of it.”
Now I laugh under my breath because that’s the only reason I’d even entertain going up to him. It’s why he’s perfect. I raise a pointed eyebrow at my brothers, speaking to such, and watch as Oliver frowns and Carter scowls, both attempting to hide it while they gulp whatever the hell they’re drinking these days. Gimlets? Who cares?
“Tonight’s the night for some fun,” I announce, slamming my hand on the table with a bit too much gusto. It’s an easy one to call. I have protection in the form of two older brothers. I have the anonymity of leaving this city in the morning. It’s also been too long. Like seriously too long since anyone other than myself, my vibrator, and my gynecologist have seen my vagina.
I might also be rocking a slight buzz, but that’s a different matter.
“How about you switch places with me,” I suggest. “I’ve been stuck in this corner all night and I think that’s been my downfall with the guy.”
“I’ll switch with you,” Carter says, a warning in his eyes and in the grandmotherly finger he’s directing at me. “But let it be known, I’m cockblocking you all night with that guy. I can’t let my baby sister go home with a douchebag like that.” Carter grabs me, practically by the scruff, and hoists me up and over his lap, scooting under me at the same time. My ass lands firmly on the edge of the booth, and suddenly it’s like freedom is at my fingertips. “There, but I’m fucking serious about that guy.”
“Yes,” Oliver agrees wholeheartedly. “I’m with Carter on this one. Anyone but him.”
Anyone but him. I can work with those terms. Still…
I open my mouth to explain to my lovely brothers that I’m twenty-two and more than capable of captaining my own romantic entanglements—okay, that’s kinda a lie—when the game announcer cuts me off.
“Alright,” he booms in a husky baritone that has been the delicious soundtrack of my night.
My previous seat left me at a disadvantage booth-wise, rendering it impossible for me to see his face, but his voice is like an erotic audiobook dream. As if proving my point, Savannah simpers, fanning her face that has instantly gone all flush.
“God, he’s hot,” she crows. “You should go for him instead. If only I weren’t married and pregnant, I sure as hell would.”
She gets a pinch to the ribs for that from her husband Royce, making her squeal and laugh. He leans in and kisses her lips, followed by her large round belly.
“This is the last round of the night since we’re nearing midnight,” the announcer continues. “Get your game cards ready and remember, phones face down on the table. No cheating allowed. First question: Do blondes really have more fun?”
My head flies up at that ridiculous, non-trivia question and instantly I lock eyes with our host, almost as if he were waiting for me to do just that. Deep and dark, but obviously blue, his eyes are like rare sapphires, equally as beautiful and alluring. They’re also sparkling with mirth at my expense.
His gaze says gotcha. Mine says I’m not amused.
He quirks an eyebrow and I return the gesture, which for some reason makes him laugh and has me smiling. A tickling flutter fills up my belly at the sound. At the way he’s looking at me.
“Oh my gosh.” Savannah gasps, reaching over as best she can and smacking my arm hard before shaking it. “That was for you. He’s totally flirting with you. Look at him. Like a cat chasing a mouse. Do you think he heard me?”
“No idea,” I mumble, still unable to peel myself away. “If he did, he doesn’t seem bothered by it.”
“Just kidding everyone.” He speaks into the microphone, his eyes gleaming with challenge. “That’s not the real question. I was just trying to get someone’s attention… finally.” He smirks arrogantly, winking at me. “The real question is, who did Madonna kiss at the 2003 VMAs?”
“Easy as hell, guy,” Savannah chirps. “I can go Britney and Christina all night long and I bet Royce would like to watch.” She snickers at her own joke, writing her answer on her sheet and then glancing up at me with a tilt of her head. “And since we’re talking about all night long and steamy, scandalous midnight kisses, Mister Sexy Voice up there should be the one you go for. If London were here and not suddenly in love with her long-lost wilds of Vermont guy, I’d push her all over him. Did you see that smile? And those eyes?” She fans her face again. “Add to that, he’s making come fuck me eyes all over you. You should come fuck him—or come while he fucks you—and report back. It’s like doing a service to all hitched-up, knocked-up womankind.”
London is my BFF from college, Savannah’s younger sister. But that’s completely beside the point. Savannah is spewing all this at a decibel, I have no doubt the entire bar hears. Including Mister Sexy Voice himself.