Page 172 of Embriagado

“We don’t smoke,” I hissed. “Now, are we getting in or not?”

With the cigarette tucked between his lips, he smiled.

“On y va! C’est parti!”

“Was that English?” my brother muttered as we began following him to the front of the line. It was only then that I noticed he wasn’t alone and that five armed men followed us all.

Who the fuck is this man?

“Not you two again,” hissed the bouncer the second he made eye contact with me.

“They’re with me,” the stranger said before I could spit a word, still with his cigarette.

“And your name is?”

Taking a deep inhale, he then blew the smoke in the bouncer’s face. “There.” He tapped the tablet. “Dion Bianchi. It’s written right there.”

My eyes widened in alarm, heart just about stopping as I stared back at him, at Dion Bianchi, or should I say, the Frenchman, the owner of the underground club I’d been fighting in the past year. All my alarm bells rang because from the little I did know, it was better to keep my distance. Ariyan was always extra worried about me speaking to anyone related to the club, and now, all of a sudden, the fucking owner was here? Not to mention, the speed with which the bouncer cleared the path for us to pass was just as alarming.

“Are you two coming?” Dion asked, his body half turned toward us, the entrance door right behind him.

Every part of me told me to say no and to get the hell out of here, but I was too slow to act, as Nacio was already running forward, joining Dion’s side. Swallowing hard, I held my fists to my sides and got my ass moving, well aware this was one huge mistake.

44

SANTIAGO

I didn’t know what to expect, but this… this was just a party.

The hotel did look slightly different, with more decorations, neon lights, and a DJ booth by the pool. But there were no fire dancers, flying monkeys, or whatever shit I imagined would be here. Mostly, there was booze—lots of it—and hot chicks, walking between rich-looking men like any other Miami nightclub would have.

Fine, so it was fancier than the other parties I’d been to, but the only real difference was the money that was clearly spent here. And since nothing else caught my eye, I wondered what the big fuss was all about. A waitress passed by me, carrying a tray full of cocktails. One glance told me Imani could have made drinks just as good, if not better, and the food didn’t look any tastier than what our restaurant cooked. And if that was the case, why bother hiring new people?

“What would you two like to drink?” Dion asked.

For a second, I nearly forgot he was here.

“Something expensive,” my brother said, causing Dion to laugh.

“Have you always been this greedy?”

Nacio’s face scrunched up. “You buyin’ us drinks or what?”

“Actually, I need to find someone first,” I said before Dion moved to stand between Nacio and me. He then wrapped his arms over our shoulders, forcing us to walk with him.

“Nah-ah. First, I buy my new friends a drink.”

Friends? Telling myself it was better to go with it than fight, I clenched my jaw and allowed him to walk us to the bar, where he finally dropped his hands from around us.

“What do we think about scotch?”

Scratching his jaw, Nacio walked closer to him. “I prefer vodka Red Bull.”

Dion’s brows rose before he snorted a laugh.

“I thought we said expensive.” He placed his hand on Nacio’s shoulder. “How about you order something outrageously lavish now?”

“What’s lavish?” Nacio frowned, causing Dion to laugh—again.