Attraction - a fraudulent marriage

1. lucky night

Yup, would have snatched that man in a heartbeat if only to nibble on those lush lips. I was still in the process of undressing him in my mind when the man turned his head, gazing straight at me. For a few long seconds, we shared a delicious connection. It was one of those perfect moments of absolute certainty. My pulse thundered until he casually broke off, pretending that nothing had happened. As if! I almost laughed. Some guys liked to play it cold.

Too bad, hot stuff, we're both missing out tonight.

The head of security waved his arm from the entrance—my cue to tone down the music. It was time to head back to my bedbug-infested mattress and annoying roommates. Sex on legs would have to wait for a better day.

As soon as the volume dropped, the crowd began to grumble. They could have danced for a few more hours, but then, they were never truly sated. At least this city was far more generous than Stockholm, where few clubs ran later than 3 AM. Maybe, I should have missed Stockholm with more determination, but the city and I were finished.

"Dude, come on! Let's get out of here." Chris yawned for effect.

Such a lightweight. "Calm your tits, sweet cheeks."

He gave me a shake of his head in response. "It always sounds so odd when you use expressions like that. And what did I tell you about calling me sweet cheeks?"

Not feeling sorry at all, I packed up my gear and checked that I hadn't missed anything. Most of it belonged to the night club, but the mixer was mine—bought with the last cash in my hollow pockets before I'd actually landed some gigs.

People crowded the entrance, most of them loud and uncoordinated among the impatient guards. It was funny how they first complained when the music stopped, then everybody rushed to get home.

"Let's take the back exit," I said, nudging Chris toward the bar. The bartenders had a door to the storage room, which in turn opened to the alley at the back. Hopefully it wouldn't smell of sewer tonight.

Chris resisted, half turning toward the dancefloor. "We have to get Tom."

"He's in here?"

"Yeah, he arrived a while ago. Messaged that he was tired of the car."

I scoffed. Chauffeurs spent most of their lives in cars—bad luck if they got tired of them. Maybe he needed an awesome playlist to bring more joy into his life. That could be my thank-you gift for picking us up.

"What kind of music does he like?" I asked.

Chris frowned but eventually started walking in the right direction. "I have no idea. Why?"

"I'm making him a playlist." I steered Chris behind the bar, fist bumping a few of the bare chested bartenders before they resumed their task of tidying up after the riots. I didn't envy them at all. Cleaning up a club after a night was pure hell. The mess some people made was beyond me.

"Tom wouldn't even thank you, you know," Chris said from behind. "Or he would say thank you and not really mean it."

Opening the door to the back room, I let out a loud gasp. "He totally would. My playlists are magic."

Kegs and crates littered the floor in no particular order. The owners had a talent for making a mess of things, but they treated me right, and if not for them, I would have been in a pretty rough spot. Rent was extortion, even worse than in Stockholm. Sure, my new friends had helped to keep me off the streets even when I'd had no money at all, but I'd crashed on Chris' sofa too many times now. I didn't want to be the friend who always took advantage and gave nothing back. At least my pockets weren't entirely empty anymore.