Page 47 of Rhythm Of Redemption

The idea of sneaking in through the side door flickered in his mind, a fleeting temptation for anonymity. But he quickly brushed it off, wanting to be seen and acknowledged by everyone. Tonight was his night.

Pausing for a brief exchange with the security team at the entrance, Logan's relief was undeniable as he spotted Matti confidently reclaiming his position as head of security. Matti's unfortunate incident of losing his phone while ice fishing with his cousins had unknowingly played into Angel's hands, allowing her to exploit the situation and cast doubt on his innocence. The weight of his own gullibility crashed upon him like a crushing wave. How could he have been so blind? He had never questioned Angel’s loyalty before. They’d been friends for so long, he couldn’t even remember how they’d met, which made the cut of her betrayal even deeper.

Logan's voice carried a hint of concern as he asked, “Everything okay?”

Matti's reassuring nod exuded confidence. “Of course,” he replied firmly.

A sense of relief washed over Logan, grateful to have Matti back in his corner after recent events. With a shared understanding, Matti finished Logan's sentence, emphasising their synchronised partnership. “If their name’s not on the list, they're not coming in. Yeah, I got it, boss.”

Stepping into the club, Logan pulled open the door. Taking a moment to assess the scene, he couldn't ignore the stifling heat that hung in the air. Pausing briefly, he swept his eyes across the room, observing the crowd like a king surveying his kingdom. A sigh escaped his lips, questioning whether the rising temperature was just his imagination. His gaze naturally scanned the bar, instinctively looking for Angel, but he swiftly reminded himself that things were different now and he’d need to get used to his new reality.

A woman slid her arm through his, catching him off guard. It was Maya, one of Hollywood superstar Sam Mahoney's many wives. He mustered a polite smile in response to her insincere greeting. Sleeping with Maya hadn’t been one of his finest moments and one he definitely didn’t intend to repeat.

Leaning in, Maya's voice dripped with false sweetness as she whispered in his ear, “I'm so glad all that messy business has been sorted out. I've missed you.”

Logan's curiosity was piqued as he glanced at her. “No Sam tonight?”

Maya's face twisted with irritation. “No,” she snapped. “He's off somewhere on a closed set, gallivanting with that bimbo. Actress, my ass. Even my dog acts better than her.” Grabbing a glass of champagne from a passing waiter, she downed a large gulp. “He thinks I'm an idiot. Everyone knows he's screwing her. So, how about a little after-party of our own?” Her fingers traced a suggestive path down his chest towards his waistband.

Catching her hand swiftly, Logan firmly interjected, “Not tonight.” He didn't want to upset her. Depending on Maya's alcohol intake and the mix of medications she might be on, it was better to stay on her good side.

Maya's gaze lifted, her heavily mascaraed lashes fluttering enticingly. “What about tomorrow?” she purred. “That cheating husband of mine will be away for another week.” Her tongue darted over her glossy red lips. “So, call me.”

“Sure thing,” Logan replied, releasing a relieved sigh as Maya finally walked away. Craving a drink, he tugged at his shirt collar and made his way to the bar. The stifling heat added to his discomfort, urging him to quench his thirst and get someone to crank up the air conditioning.

The throbbing ache in his temples mirrored the pounding beat reverberating through the walls. A vaguely familiar woman beckoned him towards the dancefloor, but instead of obliging, he gestured towards the bar, silently inviting her to join him there. She needed no further prompting and was already waiting when he arrived. What was her name again? Rochelle? Rachel? He struggled to recall, but he knew it began with an 'R’. Rosemarie, perhaps?

Taking a seat, Logan exchanged a casual greeting while grappling with her name. “Hey.”

“Another drink, Bianca?” someone asked.

“Nah,” she replied, nodding towards Logan.

“Ah, I see.” The friend raised an understanding eyebrow, an unspoken message passing between them.

Logan observed the exchange, a pang of unease flickering within him. He had witnessed this scene countless times before, but this time, it unsettled him. It was as if he were the grand prize in a twisted game, where young women were willing to sell themselves to the highest bidder. He’d never thought of it like that before. But he was the whale. The big kahuna. The fool.

The girls shared affectionate kisses on the cheek, their conversation drowned out by the surrounding noise. Logan couldn't make out their exact words, but he sensed it was some sort of plan to take advantage of him. The realisation hit him hard.

Shifting his attention to the bar, Logan addressed one of his new staff members who bore a resemblance to his former friend. “Can I have a Perrier Jouet Belle Epoque 2007 Rose Champagne, please Angel?” he requested. The girl furrowed her brows in response. “Sorry, force of habit,” he quickly apologised, glancing at her badge to find out her name. “Leila. Angel used to …” He stopped himself, realising he didn't owe any explanations. As the owner, he didn't need to justify himself to anyone. Besides, Leila probably already knew about Angel and what had transpired. Living on a small island had its downsides.

Bianca’s eyes gazed longingly towards the roped-off section reserved for Manik's VIP guests. Logan resisted the temptation this time. Boredom had already settled in, and getting rid of her would be more difficult once she entered that exclusive area. He pointed to a small table tucked away in a dimly lit corner. “There are a couple of seats over there,” he suggested. Her lips briefly turned downwards, but she quickly regained her composure, flashing a fake smile once more.

The champagne cork popped, triggering a cheer from the nearby crowd. They eagerly expected a show, only to be disappointed when Logan refrained from shaking the bottle and spraying the champagne like a Formula One winner. Bianca giggled, taking a generous swig and letting out a hiccup. “This is my first time,” she admitted, playfully glancing at him, her fingers fidgeting with a pendant nestled between her breasts. “I guess you could say I'm a champagne virgin.” Her tongue grazed her bottom lip, her eyes locking onto his before throwing her head back and laughing.

“I find that hard to believe,” Logan flirted, playing along with her desired dynamic. After all, that's what she wanted.

“A champagne virgin, silly,” she clarified, shifting closer to him, her hand resting on his thigh.

Here we go again, he thought. Give it a few more minutes, and she would likely propose going back to his place. He knew the routine all too well.

“I love this song,” she exclaimed, throwing her head back and swiftly emptying her glass. “Come on,” she urged, tugging on his arm while swaying her hips to the rhythm.

He shook his head in refusal. “I don't think so.”

“Please,” she begged.

“You go ahead,” he suggested.

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