Page 164 of Rush

“Of course. Okay if I join you?”

“Ava’s cool with it.”

“See you soon.”

I head over to Luca. “Hey—Broderick’s coming here. Can you meet him downstairs and bring him up?”

“Sure thing, ma’am,” he says without hesitation.

“Thanks, Luca.”

He leaves just as Ava’s assistant arrives with the tequila.

“Fraaankie!” Ava squeals, bounding over and grabbing a bottle from the tray like she’s been starved. She twists off the cap with flair.

“Open wide, Elena,” she sing-songs, bottle raised high.

And I do.

Because really—how do you say no toAva Edwards?

I’m buzzing—warm, tipsy, my skin humming under the lights. The suite is a chaotic swirl of bodies and music, booze and perfume, laughter bouncing off the ceilings.

Forty minutes later, Luca returns with Broderick in tow, overnight bag slung over his shoulder. His eyes find mine instantly.

“Brody!” I squeal—uncharacteristic of me—but I don’t care. I sprint across the room, launching myself into his arms. He catches me without hesitation, lifting me off the ground, spinning me once. I bury my face in the crook of his neck, breathing deeply—mountains, the rain andhim.

“You seem happy to see me,” he says, grinning.

I want to kiss him.God, I want to kiss him. But too many people are watching. He places me gently back down onto my feet.

“I am. Tequila now!” I tug his arm toward the oversized marble bar, where drinks and food sprawl like a royal feast—half-eaten lobster tails, glittering shot glasses, bottles sweating condensation. A backup dancer is double-fisting margaritas while someone blasts “Drunk in Love”by Beyoncé.

“Ugh, Elena, no. Tequila ismean,” he says, eyeing the bottles.

“I’ll make it up to you.” I raise my brows suggestively.

“Oh yeah? How?”

I lean in, keeping my voice low. From the corner of my eye, no one’s paying attention. My hand drifts down, cupping his dick through his pants—he’s half-hard already.

“I’ll let you come,” I whisper, “wherever you want.”

His breath catches. “JesusChrist,” he mutters, grabbing the nearest bottle, ripping it open, and taking a long, burning pull.

I giggle, licking salt off my hand. “Good boy.”

“You seem different,” he says, watching me closely.

“Different bad?”

“No. You seem...happy. Relaxed.”

“Just tipsy,” I say, spinning slowly in front of him, tugging at the hem of his shirt playfully.

“Holy shit, Elena—who’s yourfriend?” Ava calls out, sauntering over with a champagne flute in one hand and a fry in the other. Her eyes rake over Broderick like he’s dessert.

“You’re a tree I’d like to climb, handsome.”