No Strings

“She seems nice,” Savannah says when we get into the Uber I called for.

“Yeah. Thank you for coming.”

“Of course. Brody is awesome. It was my pleasure.”

“What time did you want to head to Lush?” I ask once we arrive and are in the elevator.

“I’ll text you once we’re ready,” she says as the elevator doors open, and she steps out. I consider grabbing her by her hand and pulling her back in, begging her not to do this, to go back to my place with me and let me take care of her, but I don’t do any of that. Instead, as the doors close, I watch as she walks down the hall, praying for the strength to get through tonight. It’s for the best, I tell myself. But even I don’t believe a word I’m saying.

“Holy shit,” Marcus curses, making me look around to see what has his attention. We’re standing in the lobby of the building, waiting for the women to come down. Since a bunch of us are going out tonight, I ordered a Navigator to take us and pick us up so we wouldn’t have to deal with snagging several cars.

My eyes follow Marcus’s line of vision, landing on the three women walking our way. Brianne and Laura look beautiful, but Savannah has my attention.

With her honey-blond hair down in waves, her face full of makeup that makes her blue eyes pop, and her lips looking fucking edible, she’s a far cry from the woman—in her southern shirts and work attire—I’ve come to know.

Her dress is a glittery silver number with chains for straps and a plunging neckline that exposes her ample cleavage. The dress stops short, with slits on both sides, showing off her toned thighs, with her tall black heels that have me imagining what it would be like to fuck her while wearing only those.

As she takes her coat from over her arm and puts it on, hiding her sexy as hell body, her eyes momentarily lock with mine. She smiles sweetly before looking at Brianne and throwing her head back in laughter at whatever she’s just said to her.

“Fucking hell,” Marcus mutters under his breath. I know he isn’t looking at Laura since she’s with Lucas, so that only leaves Savannah and Brianne.

“Savannah is off-limits,” I tell him point-blank, not giving a shit that it makes me sound like a caveman.

“Oh yeah? You calling dibs?” He laughs, knowing damn well I wouldn’t do that. For one, I’m not in high school, and two, I haven’t claimed a woman since Paola.

“She’s off-limits,” I repeat, refusing to give him anything more.

“Got it, but she isn’t who I’m looking at… Although, I kind of wish I was. You’re a scary bastard, but if I’m honest, I’m more scared of Lucas.”

Hold up. “You like Brianne?”

“What’s not to like? Look at her.” He nods toward the women who are almost over to us. “I’ve tried to push her away, but I don’t know if I have it in me to resist anymore.”

“You’re both grown adults. Just tell Lucas.” Marcus isn’t the type to fuck over a woman, so if he’s saying he likes her, I’m sure he has good intentions.

“Tell Lucas what?” Lucas asks, stepping over to us.

“Uh…” Marcus stammers like a fucking teenager. “That your girlfriend is walking over.”

Lucas glances at Marcus, ready to call him out on his bullshit, but then Laura wraps her arms around him, and he forgets the conversation as he tells her she looks beautiful.

When Savannah makes her way over, I grab her hand and pull her toward me, not giving a shit at the look of shock on her face. “You look gorgeous,” I tell her, kissing her cheek.

We pile into the SUV, and twenty minutes later, we arrive at Lush and are seen to the VIP section I had Val book for me. The club’s two levels are sectioned off into different areas. On the first floor is an upscale restaurant and bar as well as a lounge. On the second floor is a nightclub, but unlike most clubs, Lush is chiller and more laid-back. The music isn’t as loud, isn’t thumping as hard, and it doesn’t play the garbage most clubs play. Big names such as The Chainsmokers, Calvin Harris, and JB have performed at several of my clubs. The cost for VIP is over a hundred dollars a person, and bottles start at four figures, going up as high as six. People know that when they come to Lush, they’re getting a high-class experience only a few other places can provide.

When the bottle-service girl—Nadine—who’s been assigned to us, comes over to take our order, I ask Savannah what she drinks.

“I don’t know!” She laughs. “This place is too fancy for this Southern girl. I doubt you’d even have what I drink.”