Page 23 of Mr. Wilde

“Youse guys. Making this jerseyboy feel like a celebrity.” Frank stands a few inches shorter than me, but all of that product in his hair gives him another inch or two of height.

Ben leans toward me and whispers, “Did he think we’d miss he’s from Jersey?”

“No.” I snicker. “Jerseyboy is actually a term for a guy who used to live there but now lives somewhere else. He just feels the need to remind you every chance he gets where he’s from.”

Thirty minutes later, Becket Ryan and Derek Hart are escorted to our tables. After cheers, more introductions, and a second round of scotch, we start to relax into our chairs in anticipation of the main event when I see G playfully slap Frank on the back.

“Genius. Your friend is a genius.” He walks off toward the DJ booth, and I tilt my head, giving Frank a curious stare.

“Been telling this guy for years.” Frank points his thumb over his shoulder in my direction. “Don’t know how he’s the one with all the dough.”

We all chuckle as “Now Or Never” by Pitbull & Bon Jovi starts to thump through the speakers. G walks onto the dance floor, his arms overhead, clapping to the beginning notes of the song.

“Gentlemen, your theme song,” Frank announces, extending his arms in Gianni’s direction. G is motioning for all of us to join him. As the lyrics become clearer, it’s evident Frank’s right. The singer croons about how short life is. That against all odds, he made it. He sings that just as Frank Sinatra had done before him, he did it his way. Just as each of the trailblazers in our Boys Club has done.

There could be no better theme song for our group of men. We’ve all amassed an insane amount of money through working hard or shrewd business deals. All while staying true to ourselves.

Doing it our way.

We each dance front and center like we don’t have a care in the world. Broadie Weston looks adoringly at his beautiful wife as he spins her on the dance floor. Slick Willy pulls not one but two gorgeous women onto the floor with him, while Gianni spins his doe-eyed assistant, Lala, around. She seems utterly shocked to be there. The look on her face is almost comical.

Gianni wanders off momentarily, but I’m distracted by Frank’s over-the-top fist-pumping to the beat of the song. I can’t help the snort that escapes at the sight of him. You can take the boy out of Jersey, but you can’t take the Jersey out of the boy.

All of a sudden, a flash of pink swirls in front of me. Startled, I blink, and there she is. Cassidy. Staring up at me like she materialized out of thin air. Her eyes are wide, luminous under the club lights. Her candy-coated lips are parted like she’s about to say something, but her words are trapped in her throat. Fuck, it’s taking everything in me not to lean down and drag my tongue across her pouty mouth.

Where did she come from?

For a second, I can’t move. Can’t think. My brain stalls. Like the universe has hit pause and left only her in focus.

“What the hell, man? If you don’t dance with her, I will.” Frank’s voice snaps reality back into place, and my body finally remembers how to function.

My arms are around her before I consciously decide to move, pulling her into me like I’m afraid she might vanish if I hesitate too long.

She fits too well, my cock responding instantly. Her hands hover for half a second before settling against my chest, and that tiny, uncertain gesture does something dangerous to me. We sway to the music, slow and uncoordinated. Neither of us is quite sure who’s leading. I’m fully aware if I’m not careful, she’ll know the rigid effect she’s having on me.

Now that she’s so close, I can finally appreciate her sweet scent. Hell, I knew she’d smell like candy. It’s a mix of warm vanilla, sugar, and bad decisions. All I can think about is how close her mouth is. How desperately I want to devour those full, pink lips. Maybe just swipe my tongue along the sugar coating.

How easy it would be to tilt my head, to feel her breath against my jaw. How much I want to tug at the pin clipped in her updo until her blonde and pink tresses tumble down over her shoulders. I want to bury my face in her hair and drag my tongue along her neck from her ear to her shoulder. I’m getting even harder than I was before, just thinking about tasting her.

Everywhere.

I want to know what she feels like without all of the eyes in this room. Without the heavy bass distracting me. Without the rest of the world pressing in around us. Instead, I just hold her.

Fuck me. What is happening right now?

8

CASSIDY

Unlike many of the members of the packed club several nights ago, my sleepless nights aren’t from alcohol or a night of depravity. They’re from adrenaline.

And thoughts of a mouthwatering, off-limits member.

I’ve barely slept since the Angels Among Sinners party. My mind has been replaying one moment on an endless loop: red lights, a pounding bass, and Max’s hands settling around my waist like they belonged there. Which is utterly ridiculous. Because men like Max don’t happen to girls like me.

I had no idea what Gianni was doing when he pulled me onto the dance floor. Once I saw Lala out there with him, I assumed he was creating a party atmosphere, grabbing whoever was close by.

Standing there in front of Max, I fully expected him to placate me with a congenial grin before turning away. Swaying back and forth in the arms of that gorgeous man still doesn’t feel real. I was supposed to be working. Waiting on rich men and women. Instead a ridiculously hot billionaire was suddenly on my dance card.