The Fall of Legend Read online

God, he’s sexy, and all the oxygen in my blood feels like it’s been swapped out with helium. I’m practically levitating.

  “Then make it a double.”

  He nods at Astra, and she leaves with our shared order.

  “Did someone say dancing?” Monroe slides in beside me, and Legend releases his hold on my hand. “Because I am totally here for that.”

  I suck in a breath, almost thankful for the interruption. Because, my God, he’s intense. The relief doesn’t last long, though, before I already want more of him. More of whatever it was that happened when he touched me.

  Harlow shimmies up to my other side. “Hell yeah. Let’s shake our asses, ladies!” She grabs Kelsey by the arm, and the three of them make their way toward the stairs leading down to the dance floor.

  Astra returns in moments, saving me from standing frozen in the same spot for too long. “Your drinks.”

  I hand off the empty champagne flute and accept the whiskey. Before I can think about what I’m doing, I tap my glass to his and whisper, “To an unforgettable night. For both of us.”

  He doesn’t reply except for a dip of his chin.

  With a smile, I tip back the whiskey, embracing the heat as it slides down my throat. “Seven Sinners. My favorite.”

  “You know your whiskey,” he says after taking a drink.

  “I have so much random knowledge, it would blow your mind, Mr. Legend.”

  “Just Legend. Or Gabe. I’m no mister anything,” he says, correcting me before taking another sip.

  I roll the glass between my palms and take advantage of how close we are, committing every scar and imperfection on his gorgeous face to memory.

  “Scarlett!” We both look to the stairs as Monroe calls my name and waves. “Let’s do this!”

  I swallow the remainder of my whiskey before handing the glass off to Astra. She takes Legend’s as well, and then he holds out his arm.

  “After you, Scarlett.”

  I love how he calls me by my first name. Everywhere I go, I’m treated like I deserve some measure of respect I haven’t earned yet. At work, it’s Ms. Priest this. On the street or in a store, it’s Ms. Priest that. Hearing him call me Scarlett is intimate, as if he doesn’t give a damn about my clout or fame. Only my friends call me Scarlett, and I love that he’s chosen to do it too.

  Can I just be me with him?

  I don’t get a chance to dive down that mental rabbit hole before I step forward and his hand settles lightly on the small of my back. It burns through the fabric of my red dress, heating me from the outside in, finishing the job of the whiskey.

  Whatever happens tonight, I will never forget exactly how I feel right now.

  Anticipation fizzes through me as we walk down the stairs, his hand now gripping my arm to steady me. I can’t tell you if I’m floating down those stairs, not making contact with a single tread, because my head is so far in the clouds, my feet can’t even reach the ground.

  And I love it.

  Just like it did before, the crowd parts for him, and we follow Monroe, Kelsey, and Harlow to the center of the marble dance floor where waitresses in sharp black crop tops, skirts, and thigh-high boots circle us with trays of shots. Monroe dives right in, dropping bills on one tray before passing out shots to all of us.

  Legend shakes his head, but that doesn’t stop the four of us girls from tipping back the sweet concoctions and finding the beat.

  Harlow and Monroe bust into their signature moves, which are guaranteed to get the attention of every man with a pair of eyes. Kelsey was born with rhythm and gives a shimmy-shake before joining Harlow and Monroe in their swaying and spinning.

  That’s when I remember that I need a lot more alcohol before I’m going to be able to cut loose from the block of ice I’ve suddenly become. I don’t want to look stupid in front of this man.

  Oh my God. Chadwick was right. I am a prude. I can’t even dance without overthinking it. And here I am, pretending I’m some femme fatale who can possibly tempt a man who is utterly and completely beyond my experience.

  Humiliation climbs, along with my rising flush, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it. I desperately want to be the kind of woman who has crazy nights at clubs with dangerous men who make them feel like they’re finally living for the moment.

  But that’s not what prudes do. They go home and look at other people’s pictures on social media and wish they could live life so fully.

  It’s on the tip of my tongue to say this was a mistake. I’ve done my job. I should go.

  But I can’t get the words out.

  Legend moves closer and leans down to speak into my ear. “What’s wrong?”

  His breath brushes over me, and the scent of male devastation overtakes my senses. Fresh, but spicy and earthy. Like citrus, bergamot, and cedar.

  The woman I desperately want to be would be dancing with him. Her hands would be touching his body. The heat of him would bleed into her skin.

  “I . . . I just . . .” My tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth, and the words that will get me off this dance floor won’t come.

  Something knowing and concerned flashes across his blue gaze, but it’s gone before I can read it.

  His hand curls around my hip. “It’s okay, Scarlett. I’ve got you.”

  That’s when it happens.

  Thirty-One

  Legend

  I recognize fear and second thoughts when I see them, but there’s no fucking way I’m going to get this close to holding Scarlett Priest in my arms and not do it.

  The faster her friends shed their inhibitions, the faster hers come flying back.

  But I can make her forget about all the bullshit rattling around in her head that was probably put there by her piece-of-shit ex-boyfriend. And I will.

  Like it was just yesterday that I did this last instead of well over a decade ago, my body moves to the beat, finding the rhythm. I don’t think about how bad of an idea this is anymore either.

  I pull her against me, her hips to my thighs, my hands gripping her waist as I help her move. Instead of fighting me or bolting from the dance floor, she gives herself over to the music . . . and me.

  Wherever I lead, she follows.

  Her friends dance around us, one of them close enough behind me that I can feel her movements. But I don’t care about anything but Scarlett.

  It’s like she just needed the right person to wake her up and pry her out of her shell. Even if it is just a break from reality for a few minutes.

  But how can I possibly be that person? I shouldn’t be. Even more, I shouldn’t want to be. But all signs point to yes. The most terrifying part? I want to be exactly who she needs right now.

  As she relaxes, her movements become more fluid, like the music is flowing through her veins.

  The girl she called Kelsey shimmies up beside her, and Scarlett matches her for a moment, but she doesn’t pull away from me. No, if anything, she comes closer. Her tits press against the top of my abs, and my dick jerks in my pants.

  The pulsing warning sign forces me to pull back. I’m not a teenager letting a chick grind up on my dick until I’m ready to come in my slacks.

  As I set her hips away from me, Scarlett’s smile dims a few watts, and I hate it.

  Fuck. I’m not supposed to care this much about her smile or how bright it is. I’m also not supposed to be dancing with her, letting the cameras that are undoubtedly in the hands of other patrons snap photos or videos of us. They’ll plaster both our faces all over the internet because of the woman in my arms.

  Moses will find me for sure.

  My thought from earlier comes back. Maybe it’s time to deal with my ugly past—once and for all. Maybe then I’ll actually get my life back.

  The one good thing about Moses popping into my head? It deflates the uncomfortable stiffness in my pants.

  Whether I’m tempting fate or just thinking with my dick, I go back for more, gripping her tighter against me. Pride swells in my chest when she c
atches her breath and smiles. I move us faster, closer, until the music rises to a peak, and the floor clears around us for a beat. I change my grip until I’ve got my right hand locked around her left and meet her gaze.

  “Hold on.”

  Her eyes go wide, but she nods. Her trust in me is completely unfounded, but I’ll take it anyway.

  Right at the perfect moment, I use my body to spin her out my right arm and then switch hands in a split second to spin her back down my other arm.

  Her friends cheer, squealing as she does a twirl at the end. I pull her close again, her back to my front, and both my arms wrap around her.

  I keep her right where she is for a few more breaths before the beat changes and the DJ spins a new track. Raising my head, I catch a flash of movement at the edge of the dance floor.

  Q.

  It’s like the spell has been broken, because based on his posture, it’s clear something’s up.

  As much as I don’t want to, I release my hold on Scarlett and turn her around to face me.

  “I have to go. Save me a dance.”

  Thirty-Two

  Scarlett

  Legend disappears from the dance floor like a ghost fading into the night. As soon as he’s gone, I smile, because his scent still clings to me, and the heat I stole from his hard body hasn’t cooled yet.

  Kelsey, Monroe, and Harlow swarm me.

  “Oh my God!” Monroe squeals.

  “Did you see that?” Kelsey says, her mouth hanging open. “Because I wouldn’t believe that if I hadn’t just seen it.”

  “I got it on video!” Harlow waves her phone in front of my face. “Now we can all watch it over and over. Oh my God. I’m going to swoon. Because seriously, that was ah-may-zing.”

  Harlow’s acrylic-tipped fingers wrap around my wrist as she pulls me off the dance floor. Monroe and Kelsey are right behind us.

  “You videoed it? Oh my God, I knew you were secretly a genius hiding your powers,” Kelsey says, panting for breath as she swings her attention from Harlow to me. “You just danced your ass off with Gabriel Legend in his club, where he never comes out on the floor.”

  “And he looked like he never wanted to let her go,” Monroe adds. “He is so totally into you!”

  The giddiness of the moment, and my friends’ excitement, has me buzzing even harder than I was after the shot we did when we came out on the dance floor. As if my thoughts summoned her, the waitress with a tray of shooters walks by us, and Harlow tosses down some bills.

  “We need more to toast this shit!”

  I toss back the drink and wave at Harlow. “I want to see it. I want to see it.”

  “Let’s go back upstairs. It’ll be easier,” she replies.

  “Yeah, and someone will have posted it to YouTube by then too,” Kelsey says, leading the way to the stairs.

  “YouTube?” My voice cracks as I hustle up to the second level with my friends, wishing for another drink before I lose my mind.

  Kelsey pauses at the top to sling an arm around my waist. “Don’t worry, you looked like a fucking rock star out there. And just remember, any publicity is good publicity.”

  Monroe signals to Astra, who appears with a fresh bottle.

  “Would you ladies like more champagne, or can I get something else for you?”

  “We’ve switched to shots, so let’s stick with that.” Monroe rattles off three names of drinks I don’t recognize, but Astra promises to be right back with them.

  “Show me. Please. Before I lose my shit and decide I made a terrible mistake and I should probably never go near him again, which . . . sounds like a really awful option right now.”

  Monroe’s eyes go wide. “Oh shit. You’re into this guy. Like, for real.”

  “Of course she is,” Kelsey says, plopping down on the leather couch beside me. “Did you see the way he moved? If she doesn’t go for it with him, she’s going to break my fucking heart.” She takes one hand in mine and squeezes. “Honey, you’re not just doing this for you. Although we know that you really, really need this, you’re doing this for all womankind. It will be a tragedy if you don’t grab whatever invitation he just threw at you, hold on tight, and enjoy the ride. He’s not just a man. He is a legend.”

  Kelsey’s grip tightens on mine until I find myself nodding. “Really? You think I should?”

  Harlow slides in on my other side and hands me the phone, which is cued up with the video. “No one say a word until we watch this. Then, we discuss.”

  Monroe slips behind the couch to watch over our shoulders, and I tap the screen to play it.

  At first it’s dark, then the strobes light us up. I see myself in red, a color that I love but don’t wear enough because of its boldness, and I look . . . vibrant.

  Then there’s Legend. His dark blond hair is slicked back against his head, and he’s all in black—black shirt, black slacks—and completely devastating. My body moves with his, following his lead and letting him guide me through the rhythm.

  It’s seamless. Effortless. And then we both pause. I can hear his voice in my head.

  “Hold on.”

  My palms go sweaty as I witness him spin me down one arm and then back the other way. Like something out of a romantic movie where the hero is pulling out all the stops to impress the heroine. But that’s not what this is. It’s my life. And watching it replay before me is absolutely surreal.

  He pulls me back against him, and for a second, there’s this expression on his face. For the first time, he appears . . . content.

  He glances up and spies something outside the frame of the camera, and then the expression disappears in an instant. It was so fleeting, that I might never have known what Gabriel Legend looks like when he’s happy.

  Part of me wishes I never saw that look.

  Another part tells me to forget it and move on. Embrace the moment, be grateful for what it was, but don’t expect ever to feel that kind of magic again.

  But then there’s the rest of me—the dreamer who believes all things are possible if you’re willing to work for them—and she can’t unsee that pleasure on his face. She can’t forget what it felt like to be in Gabriel’s arms.

  “You guys—” I swallow, afraid of what I’m about to say next because it might change the course of the rest of my life.

  “What?” Monroe asks. “Is something wrong?”

  “No. But I think Kelsey is right.”

  Kelsey straightens beside me. “Wait. What am I right about?”

  I rise with the phone still in my hand and turn to face my three friends. “Whatever happened on the dance floor down there? I want it to happen again. With him.”

  “What are you saying, Scar?” Monroe asks.

  I lose the hesitation and lift my chin as a smile stretches my lips. “I want Gabriel Legend.”

  Thirty-Three

  Legend

  I should be relieved Q pulled me away from the floor, because I shouldn’t have been out there in the first place. But I was. And not just with anyone. With her.

  Jesus. I let my guard down. Let her in. How the fuck could I be so goddamn reckless?

  I know my rules. I follow them for a reason. But Scarlett makes it all too easy to throw them out the goddamned window whenever she’s around. And I fucking loved every minute of it, no matter how much I’ll beat myself up for it.

  I can still feel her as I follow Q’s retreating form into the shadows where he can tell me why the hell he needs me. I can still smell the scent of her on my skin. I can still feel the smooth skin of her palm gripping mine as I pulled out my old standby move.

  What was I thinking?

  Not about the future or how important it is to get this club back into the black, and that’s all that should be on my mind when I see Scarlett Priest. But now when I think about her, it’s got nothing to do with business and everything to do with the way she smiles when she lets go of her inhibitions and loses herself in the moment.

  It was the purest thing I’ve see
n in . . . I can’t even remember how long. Which means I have absolutely no business going near her. She’s so far beyond my reach that I shouldn’t even dare to speak to her.

  Tell that to my dick.

  After all, her ass was just pressing against it, making me wish I could show her that her asshole of an ex was so fucking wrong.

  She’s not a prude. She just picked the wrong fucking guy.

  And you’re the right one? Another taunt from my conscience that I know the answer to.

  No, I’m not the right guy. There probably isn’t a man on this planet who actually deserves a woman like her.

  “What the fuck was that, man?” Q asks as I slip behind him into the silent corridor that leads to my office.

  I ignore it and respond with my own question. “Did you pull me off the floor just to ask me that?”

  Q knows the answer better be fucking no, because I don’t need him to try to save me from myself. He knows that’s a lost cause.

  “Just got word that the boyfriend came back. He’s causing trouble out front.”

  I tug down the cuffs of my shirt and straighten the skull cuff links holding them together. “Is that right?” I keep my voice even, but inside, anticipation for the coming confrontation rises.

  I wanted a shot at that prick, and I’m about to get it.

  Q shrugs. “I figured you’d want to handle it yourself.”

  “You were right.” I give him a nod, and we head for the club’s entrance.

  When we step outside, I notice two things. First, there’s a chill in the air that I didn’t expect for late August. Second, we have a fucking line. The velvet ropes that have stood empty for weeks are finally full of people dying to get inside.

  Fuck. Yes.

  A punch of relief fires through me because this is exactly what we need. People waiting outside for their chance to experience Legend. And it’s all happening because of Scarlett, the knockout who dumped the douchebag raging at one of our bouncers, Peter.