Page 7 of Just My Luck

“Vodka soda,” I yelled back, flashing him a smile.

He nodded and maneuvered through the crowd toward the bar with that effortless, broad-shouldered grace of his. I watched him go, my heart doing a dangerous thud against my ribs. Out here, under the flashing strobe lights, Jax looked entirely untouchable. He was the man in the room that all the women eyed as he strolled by.

Left alone near the edge of the VIP lounge, I leaned my hips back against a high-top table, watching the sea of bodies move to the heavy bass.

“You look entirely too captivating to be standing here completely unattended,” a smooth, cultured voice murmured over the music.

I blinked and turned my head. Standing a mere two feet away was a man who looked like he’d walked straight off a Milan runway. He was tall, with sharply styled dark hair, piercing gray eyes, and an impeccably tailored navy suit that practically screamed old-money wealth. He carried himself with the kind of supreme, unshakeable confidence that only comes with owning everything in your line of sight.

A charming, dangerous smile curved his lips as his gaze drifted slowly down the length of my emerald dress before locking back onto my eyes. “Can I buy you a drink? Or perhaps a temporary escape from the crowd?”

The sheer magnetism of the guy would have worked on 99% of the women in this club, but my heart was already entirely occupied by a guy currently standing at the bar yelling out our drink orders.

I offered the man a polite, apologetic smile and shook my head. “Thank you, but I’m actually here with someone. He’s just grabbing our drinks.”

The man tilted his head, his smile widening with an intrigued, competitive glint that I couldn’t quite read. “A lucky man,” he said, his voice a low, smooth purr. “But Vegas is a city built on shifting luck. If he takes too long, I might just have to try my hand again.”

Before I could even process the smooth threat of his words, a heavy, protective shadow fell over the space between us.

Suddenly, Jax was back, handing me my drink while keeping his own scotch in hand. He didn’t say a word to the stranger, but his broad shoulders completely blocked the man from my view. His jaw was set in a hard, rigid line as he staked his claim.

The dark-haired man simply raised his glass in a silent, knowing toast toward Jax’s back, a flash of pure amusement crossing his handsome face before he melted effortlessly back into the VIP crowd.

“Who was that?” Jax asked, his voice noticeably deeper and rougher than it had been five minutes ago as he watched the space the man had just occupied.

“No idea. He didn’t give a name,” I said, taking a sip of the ice-cold vodka soda to soothe the sudden spike of heat in the air. “Just a guy testing his luck.”

Jax’s blue eyes snapped down to mine, dark and intensely possessive under the strobe lights. We took a few sips, letting the music wash over us. Then I set my glass down on a nearby high-top table and caught his wrist.

“Come on,” I said, tugging him toward the packed dance floor.

Jax laughed, a breathless sound swallowed by the bass, but he didn’t resist. He let me pull him into the center of the crowd.

The music shifted to a slower, heavier, more hypnotic rhythm. I moved with the beat, my emerald green dress shifting against my skin as I closed the distance between us. Jax didn’t step back. Instead, his hands found my hips, his large palms warm and firm through the thin fabric of my dress.

My heart completely stopped, then restarted at double time.

I looped my arms around his neck, looking up at him. The flashing blue and purple lights illuminated the sharp planes of his face, casting deep shadows over his crystal blue eyes. Jax was a good dancer—he didn’t try too hard, just moved with a natural, heavy rhythm that mirrored the bass line thumping in our chests.

As the crowd surged around us, he pulled me a fraction closer, tucking my hips against his. The heat radiating off him was intense, completely driving the cool air-conditioned breeze from my mind. I leaned into him, burying my face for a brief second against the crook of his neck, breathing in that intoxicating mix of cedarwood and clean sweat.

When I looked back up, his gaze was locked onto my face. The easy, playful best-friend look was entirely gone, replaced by a dark, burning intensity that made my knees go weak. His thumb brushed against the bare skin of my waist where my dress cut low, a slow, deliberate caress that felt entirely intentional.

For a long, breathless string of songs, the rest of the club completely vanished. There were no rules, no marketing pitches, no family expectations. There was just the weight of his hands on my body and the agonizingly beautiful certainty that something had shifted between us tonight.

By the time the clock crept past midnight, the adrenaline finally began to wane, leaving a heavy, blissful exhaustion in its place.

“We should probably get some sleep before our meeting tomorrow,” Jax murmured, his voice a low, gravelly vibration against my ear as his chin brushed my hair.

“Probably,” I breathed. I didn’t want to let him go, but he was right. Besides, I was dying to get out of the heels that I’d put on however many hours ago.

We made our way back down to the lobby area and to the penthouse elevators in silence. The ride up to the top floor was agonizingly tense. Every time the elevator chimed, the air inside the small glass box felt thicker.

When Jax swiped the key card and the heavy double doors to our suite clicked open, the quiet sanctuary of the room felt almost overwhelming after the chaos of the club. The floor-to-ceiling windows showed a sleeping, glittering city below.

We stood in the massive shared sitting room, the space between his bedroom door and mine suddenly feeling like a canyon.

“Tonight was… perfect,” I said softly, kicking off my killer heels and holding them in one hand.