Luke

I debated having a beer as I watched each light in the main house switch from on to off. A handful remained lit, telling me my father was still awake. Not surprising. He rarely fell asleep before midnight, and it was nearing eleven. He'd be sitting in his den reading The New York Times, as he did most nights when I still lived with him.

Everything in me was screaming not to go inside—not to put myself into a situation where the temper I got from him would get the best of me. I also knew not going inside would make it that much worse in the morning. It was my first time home since leaving for school last December, and there was nothing about the Hamptons I missed. Especially this house. I really didn't miss North Carolina, either, but at least there I was somewhat free of William Drake.

It was exceptionally warm for late May, and opening the sliding door from the porch that led to the four seasons room came with a blast of cool air. Billie Holiday on vinyl accompanied my journey through the darkened house and grew louder until I was standing in the den's doorway. My father sat in his favorite wingback chair with The New York Times in hand, as assumed, and a cigar smoking in the ashtray beside him. Without looking up from his current read, he picked it up, flicked the ash free, and placed it in the corner of his mouth.

"I wondered how long you'd wait to come in here," he said, still refusing to look away from the paper. "Collin said you arrived nearly two hours ago."

Collin was correct. I hadn't realized the full-time driver was now a part-time tattletale. He was more security than anything. My dad loved to believe he was more important than he actually was. The beach was littered with everyone, from movie stars to actual royalty, so even though he had more money than most of them, the paparazzi weren't exactly lined up to see the son of an oil tycoon and Big Pharma CEO's day-to-day life. A basic security system would have sufficed. Sometimes I believed my dad kept Collin around simply for company. He was the only one willing to put up with William Drake this long.

I leaned my shoulder against the doorjamb, indicating that I wasn't willing to hang around long. "I was unpacking."

He dropped the paper into his lap and pulled the cigar out of his mouth. "Only you?"

I knew where this was going. "Just me," I confirmed.

His disappointment in me was nothing new. In twenty-three years, I hadn't done a damn thing right in his eyes, and tonight wouldn't be any different. He may have had a say in many parts of my adult life, but this was not up for discussion.

"You're fucking up."

"I beg to differ," I said, still feeling his words hit me in my gut. It wasn't the first time he'd said it and wouldn't be the last. "I don't love her. It was inevitable."

"You put a ring on her finger, Lucas! You cannot turn this into me forcing you to love her. You loved her enough to ask her to marry you."

My head shook. I was purposely clenching my jaw to prevent myself from arguing with him further. I never said I didn't fuck up by putting the ring on her finger. I should have known better when the ring wasn't big enough. Her agreeing with my father on my career path, and then telling him about my doubts was the last straw. I was convinced Tiffany only saw my name, and the money that came with it. Me deciding I wanted out of the Drake-Mason shadow should have stayed between the two of us, but it was a threat to the life she was expecting. It wasn't the first time we'd broken up. It would definitely be the last.

Now I was home for the summer without the girl who was the reason for coming home. Tiffany had taken a summer job with my father as his personal secretary while he was waiting to replace his current one, who would retire next week. She was likely staying somewhere nearby with friends since I left without her, but I hadn't bothered to ask where. She was not my problem anymore, and I attempted to leave the room before he could make it mine.

"Lucas!"

I had managed to make it two feet before his voice stopped me. "Yes?"

"You can hide away in that pool house all summer, but I'm still expecting you to be at brunch in the morning. We have a guest."

I turned. "A guest?"

"I invited Jack Mason for the weekend. He's in the guest wing."

"Jack Mason?" I repeated, convinced I had misunderstood him. "Jack Mason is here? In this house?"

"We need him to reopen the lab. His research is pivotal to keeping us afloat. He took that with him."

"Why the hell would he say yes to you?"

"Because," he began smugly, "if I'm correct, he's hurting for money. He hasn't held a steady job since we closed his division, his shares are gone, and he's also putting his kid through pharmacy school. Ann Arbor isn't cheap. And as much as he hates this company and me, he won't let it fail out of spite. It would only hurt Lacey."

Lacey.

Those were two names rarely brought up in this house. Jack came and went for meetings for a while, right after Mary's accident. Lacey, however, I hadn't seen since the day my mom left us seven years ago. It was a hard day to forget. I lost my mom and my best friend that day—and both events were my fault. Even though we didn't speak about it, the plan had never changed: Lacey and I were set to inherit and run the company together, just as our parents had. I hadn't known she was living in Michigan until now. Jack had been living in Pennsylvania for the last few years.

"It's important you be there, and that you show interest. Kiss his ass."

I rolled my eyes, this time actually walking away. In our language, it was a yes. I'd be there. I'd pretend to show interest in the company and act as though my plan aligned with my father's. The joke was on all of them. There was no way in hell I was going to sit in my father's place. My days were spent ensuring that I had enough work for the next few months to keep out of my dad's line of sight and keep my savings growing.

The pool house wasn't the worst place to spend the summer. It had everything I needed from a bedroom to a kitchenette and bath. And waking up to the sound of waves and a view of the Atlantic was something some people would kill for. This property was one of the biggest in the areas.

Before sliding the glass door open, I noticed that my phone, which I'd left on my suitcase, was lit up. Seeing Justin's name instead of Tiffany's was a relief. I'd only been off the plane for ten minutes before my phone had been blasted with texts and voice mails from her. They were instant deletes. This summer I was putting myself first.

"Hey," I answered, falling onto the couch.

"You in New York yet?"

Justin's school year was spent in Massachusetts. Unlike me, he enjoyed coming home to spend time with his family during break. Of course, his employment was probably going to land him a residency on this very beach. Harvard Medical School would allow him to keep the lifestyle to which he'd become accustomed. He was going to keep me sane this summer.

"I got in this afternoon." I took note that wherever my best friend currently was, it was loud. "You?"

"I'm at Blue. Meet me here."

"Man, I don't have it in me tonight." I kicked off my shoes, feeling the exhaustion of the day. "I still smell like the airport, and my dad is already on my case over this Tiffany bullshit."

"That's exactly why you need a night out. Trust me—you need to make a showing."

I laughed, knowing what he was insinuating. "Oh yeah? You've located tonight's prospects already?"

"Leave now," he said before ending the call.

I threw the phone onto a couch cushion with a sigh. Even if I left now, I wouldn't get there for a while, but maybe a night out wouldn't hurt. If I wasn't on my A game for brunch in the morning, I could blame Justin for my hangover and attitude. I got to my feet to shower.

u

The line into Blue was nuts, wrapped all the way around the block. I gave my keys to the valet and thanked him. Eric was the bouncer tonight and stood as soon as he saw me approaching. His enthusiasm already had the rest of the line pissing and moaning. Yeah, I was going to be that schmuck tonight and skip the line. Perks of frequenting here the last few years.

The back of our hands hit and then the fronts before I was pulled into a hug that had my feet leaving the cement. His hand patting my back a few times nearly knocked the wind out of me. I wasn't a twig, but Eric made me look like one.

"Justin said you'd be making an appearance." He placed me back on the ground.

"Yeah. He didn't give me much of a choice."

"Crowded night," Eric said, pointing out the obvious and returning to his work. "Good luck finding him in there."

I had texted Justin and was still waiting for his reply. When in doubt, head toward the bar. If Justin was out, it meant he was already many beers in. Guinness, if I were guessing. I checked my phone once more before entering a jam-packed space with dizzying blue strobe lights. It was a world I was accustomed to. I loved everything about the noise, the ambiance of everyone being flooded in the same color while swaying their bodies together. Blue was known as an upscale—and sexy—place to spend your evenings. No doubt why Justin had chosen it tonight.

The bar area was called the pit. While the club itself was filled with every type of blue light imaginable, the pit was black with motionless blue accent lighting. You could go there, sit, and not fear a light-induced seizure. It was in the shape of a giant ring, and it was in the very center of the club. I sent off another message, letting Justin know that was where he could find me.

Even though there was a black leather stool open, I didn't take it. There was plenty of room between two groups of girls with their backs to each other for me to lean my elbows onto the bar while standing. It took about five minutes to be greeted by the bartender—not surprising, since they always took care of the women first. And tonight, there was no shortage of those.

I ordered a rum and Coke. Anything harder and I was risking having to leave my Jeep in Long Beach. Usually, on nights such as these, I'd crash at some hotel and put it on my father's tab. Risking not getting home in time for tomorrow's brunch was not a chance I was going to take. I'd never hear the end of it. When the first one went down a little too fast, I ordered a second. And when that one went down even faster, I started a tab. This seemed to catch the attention of a girl beside me, who swung her body around to avoid her friends and flashed a smile at me.

"Hi," she said, leaning in closer. "I'm April."

Her drink of choice was tequila. It didn't even take looking at her shot glass to know. I could smell it the closer she came. She was a beautiful girl, but she was way too drunk already.

"Luke," I said with little enthusiasm. I looked over my shoulder, hoping Justin was somewhere in sight. No luck.

"Luke, I think my next shot should be on your tab."

Money really was annoying. I knew her interest was piqued when she heard the bartender ask me by name if I wanted a tab for the night. Typically, that option was only given to those using bottle service. It was only offered to me because usually I would be here with a group of friends, and that's exactly how we would play it. Tonight, however, I wouldn't be living it up on the second floor with a table.

"I think I'll pass, April."

The blond's Botox-filled lips pouted. "Why's that?"

Why couldn't my answer be enough? She turned around because she realized I had money. What a catch. I ignored her question when I heard an infectious laugh that made my head turn in another direction completely. Across the bar, on the other side of a circular island holding all the club's liquor, sat a beautiful brunette who had caught the attention of a bunch of guys already. She was leaning one elbow on the bar, and circling her straw in an almost empty drink, and some guy had said something to make her laugh and fuck if it wasn't the most beautiful sound I had ever heard.

"Because I'm buying her a drink," I answered April, motioning with my head to the stranger across the bar. I ignored whatever April said in response, but she disappeared. I flagged down the bartender.

"Hey!" Justin's hand hit my upper back. "About fucking time!"

"Did you forget where we live?" I asked. "It's not a quick drive to Blue."

Justin took the newly vacated seat beside me. I remained standing, knowing I'd shortly be moving to the opposite side of the bar to meet the girl I'd be dancing with tonight. My eyes were still on the pale, bare skin of her shoulders, waiting for her to turn around. I asked the bartender to give her a refill and put it on my tab. She leaned over to the girl beside her to tell her something, and that's when I noticed she was sitting next to someone I knew. When Rachel finally looked my way, I tried to flag her down. Her eyes doubled in size. She smacked the other girl's arm and said something to her. Finally, the girl turned around. Big, piercing blue eyes now had my undivided attention. My goddamn stomach fluttered, caught in some sort of moment with the most beautiful girl I've ever seen in my life. My smile grew but was met with disdain before the girl turned back around.

Well . . . shit. What the fuck just happened?

I elbowed Justin. "Who's sitting beside Rachel Meyer?"

"Are you serious?"

Why would I not be serious?

The bartender placed a fresh drink beside her and then pointed my way. Again, she turned. Again, we connected. And again, I was shot down when she ignored the drink and continued what now looked to be a heated conversation with Rachel. I elbowed Justin harder this time, hitting his ribs.

"Ouch! What the fuck was that for?"

"Go over there with me." I motioned to the area occupied by the mystery girl and Rachel.

Laughing, he stole my drink and took a swig. "She turned you right back into a twelve-year-old. Honestly. You can't man up and go talk to her?"

I couldn't. She turned down my drink. I needed a wingman. Justin grew up directly across the street from Rachel, and he was my in. If I could get him to distract Rachel, I might stand a chance of catching the attention of her friend. The window to accomplish this was closing fast. They were without a doubt the hottest girls in this place tonight, and the guys they'd been talking to earlier were now in my way.

Grabbing Justin by the arm, I pulled him out of his seat, dragging him only until he caught his balance, at which point I nudged him to walk ahead of me. This needed to look like it was all his idea. The only way for this to go wrong would be for this girl to find him more charming than me. He could be a dick like that.

"This isn't a good idea." His head pivoted to mock me. "Send her a drink. Don't drag me into this shit."

"I did. She ignored it."

"Honestly, do you blame her?"

What the hell is that supposed to mean? I didn't get the chance to ask before I was shoved forward, landing directly in front of Rachel and her friend. Both halted their conversation and threw some seriously judgmental shade. I glared at Justin. Thanks, asshole.

"Told you," Rachel said before picking up the disregarded drink and wrapping her lips around its straw.

"What do you want?" The brunette asked. Her annoyance was blunt and like acid churning in my stomach. She made a point to look anywhere but in my direction.

Not a good start.

Needing a change in attitude, I shifted my attention elsewhere. "Who's your new friend, Rach?" I asked.

"Huh?" Multiple glances were exchanged between Rachel and the girl I was determined to win over. "Is he serious?" she asked Justin. "He has to be joking."

"I'm not? And that didn't answer my question. What's your name, pretty girl?"

"What did you call me?" she asked, bewildered, as her head snapped upward. Finally. I had caught her attention.

"Pretty girl," I repeated and offered my hand. "I promise I meant it as a compliment. I'm Luke."

She stared at my hand like I was going to bite her if she took it. Justin and Rachel were laughing behind me, and this girl's smile twitched like she might join them. The smile was a good sign. I was getting somewhere. She was a ten. With that smile, an eleven.

I grinned to play along. "So, about that name . . ."

Her infectious laugh returned. Her head shook no. If she was friends with Rachel, I would get her name, eventually. Rachel didn't live that far from my father's place.

"Fine." I kept my hand extended. "I don't need a name to dance with you."

She turned to Rachel, bursting with more laughter. "This is actually happening. This has made the entire night worth it. This is really happening, right?"

Rachel, equally enthused to the point of tears, nodded yes. Well, I had made their night. I wasn't claiming victory yet, but it was a step in the right direction. She was amused, at the very least.

"Does that mean I get your name?"

"No. It doesn't." She looked up at me, finally giving me more than well-deserved eye contact.

The connection made my chest expand, followed by a feeling of déjà vu. She swallowed hard—she was feeling it too. Not only did she seem familiar but the entire conversation did.

"Dance with me. I have to know you."

"I feel as though I already do, FB." She glanced back to a giggling Rachel before me.

FB? Like . . . a fuck boy?

Was she a friend of my ex? Was that why she was laughing . . .
because I was barely out of a serious relationship and hitting on someone new? I couldn't have her thinking that, or I wouldn't get anywhere with her tonight.

"I'm not a fuck boy."

"Never claimed you were."

"Rachel, get your friend here to dance with him so I can return to my night. He won't let this go. Just look at the poor guy." Justin attempted to help by wrapping an arm around my shoulders. "He's pathetic right now. Have you ever seen Luke like this?"

I stuck my lower lip out to pout. I was literally pouting for this girl. She could have told me to beg at her feet like a dog, and I would have kneeled on this dirty bar floor.

Rachel pursed her lips, glanced at her friend, opened her mouth, and snapped it shut again. "She has a rule tonight. No Hamptons boys."

Well, that's a shit rule.

"You know what, Rach? I think I'll drop that rule for FB."

"But I thought we were going to drink, dance, and get lai—" Rachel was cut off by her friend's hand covering her mouth.

I needed to hear the rest of the sentence. It sounded like she was about to say laid. My inner monologue was begging to assist.

"Not tonight," she disagreed, while I lost all hope. "This is too hilarious. Okay, FB. Dance with me."

I extended my hand again. A moment earlier, I thought I'd be the one dragging her between the swarm of dancing bodies, but it was the other way around. She was sure of herself as she led me into the crowd. But I would be the one leading tonight. I spun her until her back was against my chest, where I felt the vibration of her giggles mixed with music pumping around us.

With one arm up to wrap around the back of my neck, she began swaying her hips to the beat of a popular remix. I placed my outstretched hand on the slick fabric of her dress, across her stomach, keeping her right where she was. She didn't even flinch. Her confidence was sexy and intoxicating as she ground her ass into my pelvis.

New songs came and went, and with every single one we became more comfortable touching each other. My hands were all over her, and hers were on me. The room was sweaty and hot—as every club is—but the sweet with a hint of spicy perfume she was wearing drowned it out. It was an aphrodisiac, fogging my mind and drowning out everyone else around us. I was getting hard, and she knew it. She also didn't seem to mind, as she pressed herself against me as much as she could.

"You're killing me," I whispered against her ear.

Her head leaned into my shoulder. "Good."

I knew she was grinning. She was being playful, enjoying that I was hard for her in front of hundreds of people. Two could play that game. My lips pressed against her jawline, just below her ear. I removed one hand from her swaying hips to squeeze one of her breasts. With my lips now on her throat, I felt the moan she released. The buildup of sexual tension was becoming too much not to see it firsthand. I swung her around, brought her toned body back into mine, and took her lips.

There was a moment of hesitation as her body tensed in my hold. In that second, I felt I had made a mistake, ruining all the progress of the night. But it quickly faded; she released the tension, and our tongues met in a heated kiss.

"Luke." I felt her breath on my lips as she whispered my name.

Her long eyelashes fluttered before lifting. Ocean-blue eyes. The moment they met mine, I was lost in them. They were literally stunning, and so familiar. They were searching for mine just as hard as mine were hers. I couldn't take it. My hand wrapped around her waist, pulling her back into me, pressing my forehead against hers. I closed the small space between our lips again, without hesitation. The club went on moving without us as we remained still and wrapped up in each other until we both needed air and broke the connection of our mouths. I was dizzy from the sound, and the heat, and this girl. I wanted to be alone with her—somewhere I could learn her name and get greedier without interruption.

"Want to get out of here?" My voice came out breathy, still panting from the circles we'd spun tonight.

She nuzzled her face into my palm, nodding yes. "I have to tell Rachel I'm leaving."

I pecked my lips against hers. "I'll be at the door."