Samantha pulled up the cord of the nightclub's cordon and slipped through the bottom while the men and women behind her eyed her with a mixture of envy and anger. Jealousy because the bouncer, a man as tall as a tree, with mocha-colored skin and a scowl, just waved them through.
Anger because Sam clearly wasn't here to party and thus didn't really deserve to be let in here in the first place. But she wasn't really here of her own free will, so she gave Gideon an encouraging and surely shy smile and let him push her through the door. A trembling noise of wild club music and colorful, flickering lights greeted her in the entrance area, where she eyed one of the female hostesses with raised eyebrows.
Samantha wasn't here too often to know her, but the woman, whose only purpose was to take people's bags and coats and look good while doing it, was intelligent enough not to question the bouncer's decision. Sam credited the tall, long-legged brunette with the wild, curly mane around the suntanned and provocatively made-up face. Her smile was genuine and as she moved towards them, hips swaying, she acted as seductively as she should to any of the guests - regardless of gender.
"Hi baby, I'm Veronica. May I take your things from you?" she asked in a lascivious dark voice that had a strange smoky sound that settled like honey on Samantha's skin. But Sam wasn't here to let the hostess do anything for her.
She wasn't here to celebrate and Sam feared that without her coat she would stand out even more than she already did. It was just after 10:00 p.m. and the evening was still young, but the visitors of this house were already so finely dressed that someone like them was bound to stand out. Sam wore jeans and a t-shirt rather than a fitted, skin-exposing dress and not a hint of makeup. Apart from that, instead of an expensive lady's handbag, she was only holding a computer folder that she wouldn't give away for anything in the world.
"No thanks, Veronica. I'm Samantha Eveans. Gideon already knows, I'd like to go to my brother's." Veronika's cute face tilted slightly, as her smile grew even brighter and she nodded eagerly.
"Oh of course. Killian...", she cleared her throat briefly and then quickly corrected herself, "Mister Eveans, is in his lounge. Can you find your way there alone or should I accompany you?" Sam didn't miss Veronika's burgeoning enthusiasm when she offered to accompany her to the lounge, although it should be clear that, as the boss's sister, Sam knew very well where she was. If not, the little slip-up would have exposed them at the latest.
Sam groaned inwardly in annoyance.
Veronika was in love with her brother, like so many employees before her and all the women who would come after her in this position that she would inevitably lose soon. Killian viewed such crushes as an unprofessional which he would not tolerate in his club. But you really couldn't blame her.
Killian was a man's dream. With thick, dark blond hair, piercing dark green eyes and the body of the martial artist he was, he seemed like Ambrosia to any woman. Her brother had never had too many problems finding a partner in bed and Veronika proved once again that he especially fell for the women he hardly noticed. One of her friends called it the asshole effect.
Women weren't only attracted to attractiveness, but also to power, fierce characters and, above all, danger. Her brother brought it all together and was officially the wet dream of every good and bad girl in the neighborhood.
"No thanks, I know the way" Sam waved her off in a friendly but slightly upset manner. Of course, she knew that she wouldn't have her brother to herself forever, but that didn't mean that this slightly nagging feeling of jealousy would ever leave her alone. Killian was the only person in her life who really mattered to her.
After a childhood of violence, fear, and a constant wish to just die, he was everything to her. Her big brother, her protector and the guy who stopped her father from molesting her like he regularly molested her mother.
She owed him everything, including the secondary school that his money enabled her to attend. But besides all that, he had given her something else that she would never have survived as a child: love. Killian loved her, had shown her that there could be more to a family than violence and fear. He dried her tears, cradled her when she had a nightmare, made sure she did her homework so that one day he would be better off than he, the high school dropout and brawler who had spent more time kickboxing than in the classroom. With quick steps, Sam meandered through the entrance area, reached a small balcony from which you could see the middle of the dance floor and then followed a small corridor, from which mainly doors led off that said in large letters: For staff only.
The evening had only just begun and yet the first couples had already retired to the dark corners of the hallway, to rub against each other uncontrollably while the staff scurrying by ignored them.
This club was known for its depravity, it was even possible to rent a private room here for a few hours to finish the started fumbling actions. Killian didn't even bat an eyelid at his club's pertinent reputation.
Sex had always been the best way to make money, and he was first and foremost a businessman, not a moralizer. Unless it was about her. In her twenty years, Sam had seldom dated boys, or even had other experiences. Killian always kept a very watchful eye on her and any man who was near her. Well, at least except for the man who just gave her a wide wicked grin.
