Trapped Between The Billionaire Playboy & The Mafia Don

(ZAYNE'S POV)

Life's good when you're me. No scratch that, life's fucking great.

I'm kicked back on the red leather couch of LUXE, the most exclusive nightclub in L.A. The bass is thumping through the walls, women are laughing, glasses are clinking, and the lights are dim enough to make everyone look ten times hotter than they really are.

One of those women-brunette, legs for days-is sitting so close I can smell her perfume. She's got her hand on my chest, tracing lazy circles like she's trying to hypnotize me. The other one, a blonde in a red dress, is feeding me sips of my own wine like I'm some kind of goddamn king, which technically, I am.

I don't even stop her. Why would I?

"Mm," I hum, licking the last drop off my lips. "You girls are spoiling me."

"That's the idea," the brunette says, giggling.

I grin, leaning back.

Yeah, Zayne Beaumont, you lucky bastard.

The blonde reaches for the bottle, tips it, and frowns when not a single drop comes out. "We're out," she pouts, batting her lashes at me. "Got any more of that expensive wine, handsome?"

I smirk, leaning in until our mouths almost touch. "Anything for you beautiful ladies."

I plant a quick kiss on her lips, just enough to make her blush and giggle, then I stand up, straightening my jacket. "Don't go anywhere, alright? I'll be back before you even miss me."

"Don't keep us waiting," the brunette teases, biting her bottom lip.

"Wouldn't dream of it," I say, flashing my most charming grin before walking off.

The music's loud, people are everywhere-dancing, grinding, making out like the world's ending tomorrow. I weave through the crowd, offering the occasional nod or smirk to people who recognize me. Perks of being Zayne Beaumont, I guess. Tech mogul. Billionaire. Man about town.

When I finally reach the bar, I raise a hand to flag the bartender but someone beats me to it.

"I'll have a Black Velvet," a woman's voice says.

I turn, and for a second, I forget how to breathe.

The woman standing beside me is drop dead gorgeous. Her platinum blonde hair, gleaming under the dark club lights, tumbling over her shoulders and resting against her... wow. Just-wow.

The neckline of the black skin-tight dress hugging her curves cut so low that I could see almost all her cleavage hanging out.

Holy shit.

I lick my lower lip without meaning to.

She doesn't look at me, just keeps her gaze fixed on the bartender.

I shift closer, casually, like I belong there. "I'll have what she's having," I tell the bartender, then turn to her with a grin. "Hey-"

"No."

Just like that. Cold, flat, and straight to the point.

I blink, then let out a small huff of amusement. "Damn, you won't even let me get a word in?"

She finally looks at me. Big mistake. Now I'm the one who can't look away. Her eyes are this sharp, icy blue that made me freeze for a moment.

"I'm not in the mood to talk," she says, her voice calm but edged. "I came here for a drink and some late-night fun. Not conversation."

I chuckle. "Late-night fun could mean a lot of things."

"Not with you," she shoots back without hesitation.

That one actually makes me laugh. "Are you always like this, or am I just unlucky tonight?"

"Neither." She sighs, visibly annoyed. "Now piss off. You're starting to get on my nerves."

The bartender slides two drinks toward us. She takes hers without another word and sips it, ignoring me completely.

I take mine, lean against the bar, and try again. "Hey, maybe you might not know who I am-"

"Oh, I know who you are."

That stops me. She turns toward me, that faint smirk curving her lips.

"You're Zayne Beaumont," she says. "The young billionaire who runs Beaumont Industries. Tech empire worth, what, over a hundred billion dollars now?"

I grin. "Oh, so you do know me."

She rolls her eyes. "Who doesn't? It's not every day someone your age makes it that far."

I run a hand through my hair and lean in a little, flashing my signature smile.

But she doesn't even blink. "Don't get excited, golden boy. That doesn't mean I'm about to swoon, take off my panties, and throw myself at you like the others do."

I tilt my head, smirking. "Can I at least get your name?"

"No."

She turns back to her drink and just like that, the conversation's over.

I chuckle quietly, more amused than offended.

She's a feisty one. I like that.

I down my drink in one go, setting the glass down with a light thud.

"Well," I mutter, "cheers to rejection."

I turn to leave, but as I push off the stool, my foot slips on something wet-spilled drink maybe-and the next thing I know, I'm stumbling forward. My hand shoots out instinctively to stop my fall...

And lands right on her chest.

Her boob, to be exact.

I freeze, staring down at my hand, still cupping her like a fucking idiot. Then I slowly look up at her face. Her eyes are wide, her mouth hanging open in disbelief, and oh, fuck-she looks furious.

"Shit," I blurt out. "I'm sorry, that was an accide-"

Her fist connects with my jaw before I even finish the sentence.

I stumble backward, nearly knocking over the guy behind me, one hand on my face, completely stunned.

And just like that, everything goes dark for a split second.

Damn. Did she really just-

"Did you just fucking punch me?!"