Page 79 of No Longer Mine

“It’s been fifteen years since I went to a rager like this.”

I rolled my eyes. “Maybe you should stay in the car then, Grandpa.”

He reared back, offended. “No chance. Do you know how dangerous it is in there?”

I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Don’t remind me, I hate that I’m about to tarnish my very public name by stepping into the building, but her safety is more important than my political status.”

One of Don’s brows lifted, though he was a smart man, so he kept his mouth shut. Save for the entrance around back flanked by two massive men in black suits, the place looked abandoned. All the walls were coated in graffiti, and the rusted roll-up doors were locked up tight. I hated dealing with bouncers. One of them raised his brows as I got close to him. He held up a clipboard and shot me a sly smile.

“Name?”

I reached forward and placed a hundred-dollar bill in the man’s hand. He tucked it into his pocket, but the other bouncer stepped forward. “Name?”

“Dimitri Cristof.”

The man looked down at the clipboard, his cheeks colored slightly. “I’m so sorry, sir.”

I frowned but certainly didn’t argue. If I were on the list, I wouldn’t mind it one bit. I didn’t mind paying him off, too, but it made things a bit easier. I probably should have started with my name to begin with. I was sure it was my last name opening doors, but then again… I was a councilman now.

The high ceilings held crisscrossing metal beams and bright neon string lights that pulsed with the beat of the music. The air was heavy with the scent of pot and sweat. The floor vibratedbeneath my feet. Bodies writhed and bumped against each other. There was hardly any room to walk, but somehow we managed. Where I thought I was drastically overdressed, I found it not to be the case. There were people of all types mashed together. Some were dressed fancier than I was, while others were almost nude. Little pieces of cloth hardly covered their gyrating body parts.

At the center of it all sat the DJ booth on the raised platform with a massive screen behind him showcasing bright and flashy visuals that pulsed with every beat drop. It wasn’t really my scene. It was something Audrey and Alexei would have been into. I preferred quieter, more sensual places. But tonight wasn’t about me.

My eyes scanned the sweat-slicked bodies as I looked for the only redhead that mattered to me.

In the farthest corner of the warehouse, away from the crush of bodies, a roped-off VIP section loomed. The space was sectioned off with thick velvet ropes, guarded by a bouncer built like a concrete wall. Inside, sleek black leather couches lined the walls, then between them all were glass-topped tables covered in top-shelf liquor and spirits.

Unlike the rest of the warehouse, where the music pounded relentlessly, this area carried an air of exclusivity—of whispered conversations, illicit deals, and people who didn’t just come here to party but instead to conduct business.

And there, reclining on one of the couches with a drink in hand and a smirk on her lips, was Scarlett.

Her legs were crossed, the high slits of her dress parting just enough to make my fingers twitch. She was laughing at something, her head tilted back slightly as her curls bounced around her face. Cleo was at the end of the leather couch, smoking a blunt. She smiled at something Scarlett said. All Icould think about was that I was happy that she wasn’t holed up in her apartment anymore.

Don stayed on my heels as I moved over to the bar, to watch from afar. I couldn’t risk her seeing me, even if the thought of her surprised face was enough to bring my erection back in full swing.

Businessmen and socialites milled around her as I watched from across the room. She flirted and batted her eyes, but she didn’t allow any of them to get too close. I smiled to myself as I wondered why she didn’t entertain any of them. They weren’t bad looking. Most of them were more than worth her time, if I were being honest with myself. But tonight, I didn’t want to be honest with myself, and I was secretly giddy that she denied them because I knew if she didn’t, I would make myself a problem. And that wasn’t something I could afford, not when I was so close to getting to my father.

As if his ears had been ringing, there he was. The velvet rope dropped for him, he was strolling across the dimly lit space, headed right for Scarlett.

Chapter Thirty-Five

Scarlett

I’d managedto evade all of the men who threw themselves at me, much to Cleo’s displeasure. She was practically begging me to get laid. She said, ‘What better way to get over a man than to get under another one?’. She was on to something, but I wasn’t quite ready to get under one anyways. None of them excited me. They all looked boring, and their pick-up lines? Even worse.

“I insisted to Gavin Crenshaw that Scarlett Montrose could cut loose.” The voice was sharp enough to cut. I straightened and turned to find familiar eyes staring at me. Sinclair Cristof rubbed the back of his nails on his suit jacket as his eyes perused the room.

“I’m not sure I understand.”

He shrugged off his coat to a smaller man standing behind him. My eyes skipped down to his hand, where he usually wore a wedding ring. It was missing tonight—of course it was. He pulled a chair over and straddled it easily. Cleo had disappeared off to the bathroom, and this snake had used the opportunity to slither his way in. I began to regret not letting one of the other men come onto me. I tucked my hands in my lap to hopefully hide the shaking there.

“Gavin said you were probably a homebody and you two wouldn’t be a good fit, but imagine my surprise when I find you in my club.” His grin was slow and lazy.

“I only like to go out occasionally.” I tried to reason. I didn’t know where this was going, but it was terrifying me. Where the hell was Cleo?

He leaned forward and leveled me with a stare. “Gavin is going to call you or text,” he waved his hand dismissively. “And you’re going to say yes to a second date.”

It wasn’t a request. I blinked.

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