I had dropped Nicholas off at clubs more times than I could count. Seen countless pictures of him dancing and draped over so many women, their names were a blur. To be fair, he probably couldn't recall half of them either. I'd picked him up even more times after receiving drunken calls in the dead of night—slurred admissions of lost drivers and misplaced keys.
But in two years, not once had I ventured inside.
The club was dimly lit, the air thick and humid—a place that exuded trouble, the kind I always fretted over Nicholas encountering.
He navigated us through the pulsating crowd with the confidence of a regular, leading us to the bar. Under normal circumstances, holding his hand would have felt awkward, but now I clung to it desperately.
The bartender muttered something in Spanish, and Nicholas turned to me, shouting over the deafening music.
'What do you want to drink?"
I could barely hear him, so I relied on lip-reading.
A myriad of options in Spanish script dazzled before me. I shrugged and pointed to the most colorful bottle I could find. Nicholas grinned and signaled for two.
Three shots and five cocktails later, we were feeling rather pleased with ourselves. Smugly satisfied that we had left our New York City troubles behind and escaped to Spain.
'I totally get why you do this now," I slurred, leaning into him as our faces alternated between red and gold in the flashing lights. 'This whole running away thing."
'I'm not running away," he protested, looking offended at the suggestion. I arched an eyebrow and gestured around us, prompting him to chuckle. 'Okay, maybe just a bit. But hey, it works, right?" Steadying us both, he held onto my wrists for balance. 'When you woke up this morning, did you have any clue we'd end up in a nightclub in Spain?"
A sudden worry crossed my mind, and I glanced away with intoxicated concern.
'...I have so much work to do, and I ended up in Spain..."
'Avy!" he reclaimed my attention, throwing out his arms in victory as we gazed around the club. 'Stop worrying, alright? We're here already, it's done."
I bit my lip, reaching tentatively for my phones, but he slapped my hand away.
'No work tonight. You have to promise me, okay?" I did my standard, dismissive nod, but he saw through it with a drunken grin. 'Promise. Say it."
I hesitated, considered, then gave in.
'I promise."
'Yes!" His face lit up with a beaming smile, the kind that stood out even in the darkness, making everything beside it pale a little in comparison. 'This is going to be great! We can—"
At that moment, a group of rowdy men rushed towards the bar behind me, pushing me unintentionally into Nicholas's arms.
He caught me automatically, then looked down with a bit of surprise. We were pressed right up against each other. Nothing between us but a thin layer of clothes. For a second, he looked like he was about to release me. Then he leaned suddenly forward to speak in my ear.
'Do you want to dance?"
My eyes flickered to the dance floor—where people weren't really dancing, but were either leaping straight up into the air, or rubbing against each other so sexually that it really shouldn't be permitted in public. A wave of nerves flared up in my stomach, and my fingers tightened without thinking on his shirt.
Could Nicholas and I really do something like that? Was that remotely possible?
No wait! Never hook up with your playboy boss. Never drink with your boss. Never dance with your boss. Never look at him the way I was looking at him. This would likely end in disaster. Yep. It was the perfect recipe for total disaster.
The beautiful man in front of you is YOUR CLIENT!
We were never destined to be together, just like Romeo and Juliet. We needed to stay friends. I needed to navigate this mine field carefully, tread lightly. This was way too risky. I dare not take that big leap of faith. We couldn't cross that line. It would only end in heart break (on my end) and possibly my job. Why was he making this so hard on me? Was I setting myself up to fail? Why couldn't I look away? I wanted to throw all the rules right out the window.
Damn those beautiful eyes of his!
I was mesmerized, completely smitten. It was like he was casting a spell on me. His lips hovered so close to mine. Just inches away. Should I kiss him? Perhaps more importantly, could I do that right now without falling down? The two of us already had an awful lot to drink...
'So, do you want to dance or not?" he smiled.
'I...I'm not..."
'I'll take that as a yes!"
His hand seized mine, and the next thing I knew, we were weaving to the center of the crowd—a place pulsating with lights, music, and people. The crowd parted like water before us, before closing back around, sealing us in with the rest of them. My fingers twisted around Nicholas's, desperate not to lose him in such a dense crowd, but I needn't have worried.
The second we were there, he turned around and pulled me suddenly into his chest.
My breath caught in my throat as we hovered there for a second. The heat of his skin seeping through my thin clothes. His heartbeat pounding against my skin.
Then, as the lights around us flickered, the two of us began to sway.
Bright flashes of neon green lit up his hair and glowed in his eyes, as he leaned down so his forehead was touching mine. His hands wound slowly around my waist, inching me closer still, and what started out as an innocent dance soon turned into something else entirely.
It was hard to say who made the first move. Things were happening so fast, and we were being pressed together from all sides. All I know, is that before the end of that first minute, his hips were grinding against mine. We were so close together...close enough that our hair began to dampen with sweat, and the sexual tension was brewing.
Faster and faster we went. Moving with the music.
His lips curled up in a grin, and the next thing I knew, he flipped me around—pulling me into him once more so my back was against his chest. If it was possible, the dancing got even dirtier. A fog machine had started up from the stage, and in the haze and chaos of the crowd, his fingers slipped around my bare waist, teasing the top of my jeans. Before I knew what was happening, I arched my back and reached my hand up behind me, running it through his wavy hair. He picked up the pace then, trailing his fingers down my side as we ground together again.
A second later, he'd flipped me back around. We were facing now, staring wide into each other's eyes. As the crowd around us screamed and surged, his lips brushed softly against my forehead. I stared up at him, and the next kiss was on my cheek. Then my other cheek.
We'd stopped moving now. In fact, it felt like the entire club had stopped moving, and the two of us were standing together—lost in time.
His face was only an inch or two from mine. I could smell sweet whiskey on his breath. The chemistry between us was mind-blowing. Insane. Undeniable. Electrifying.
Damn, did I want to kiss him. BAD. Very badly.
But kissing the boss was a BAD idea, a very bad idea.
We were about to officially cross boundaries.
My entire career would be on the line. If things go sour...
Should I say damn to the consequences and follow my heart?
Our eyes met only for a second—frozen, like he was asking for permission. Then he took my face in both hands and leaned down once more...
'...I'm so sorry, but I can't do this!"
I was out of his arms the next second, weaving my way back through the crowd until I finally reached the exit and burst through the door. The freezing air hit me like a slap to the face.
Waking me up. Bringing me to my senses.
What the fuck are you doing, Avy?! He's your fucking client!
He's also my friend...
Did I mention he's your ONLY client?! And Mitchell Huntington's SON?!
'Avy?"
I whirled around to see Nicholas standing there by the door. The ID stamp to get into the club was still shining bright on his wrist, and tiny clouds of steam were rising off his body.
He was everything a girl could ever want. Beautiful. Funny. Sweet. Trustworthy. Oh, and did I mention the guy was fucking hot?!
But none of that mattered, right? Because he was a client, and we were drunk, and we were heading back to New York in the morning.
...right?
'I'm sorry, Nicholas." I turned with drunken tears in my eyes and started walking back across the street, both shaken and overwhelmed by what had almost happened. 'I have no idea what got into me. That was obviously so wildly inappropriate, I can't even—"
'Hey," he caught my wrist and spun me back around, catching up to me before I'd taken more than a few steps, 'what happened to what happens in Spain, stays in Spain?
