Chapter 3 Meeting my fiance's brother

Half an hour later, I step inside the Casa Club owned by Zane.

Upon entry, I have to admit I’m drenched in trepidation and uncertainty as I scan the neon-lit nightclub in search of my interviewee for the night. It’s a bit crowded in here even though it’s still the early hours of the evening.

This is not usually my kind of scene. I swear if it wasn’t for work, I would never be in a place like this.

However, as for Zane Thorne? This is definitely his second abode. Hell, he owns the club.

He’s someone who attracts and spreads sin wherever he goes, whether for entertainment or profit.

My eyes catch a few important men drooling over the barely-clothed strippers dancing in front of them. Some are absentmindedly stuffing tips into the sides of their G-strings. My gaze flicks to the other side, and my goodness—it’s a lot.

I quickly tear my eyes away from the scene and refocus on who I’m searching for.

I’m already ten minutes behind schedule, and I know I’m in trouble.

On my way here, Will called to check if the interview had already started, and when I told him I was yet to arrive, he almost bit my head off because he knows how strict ‘Mr. Thorne’ is with his time.

My eyes still roaming the club and then toward the VIP area upstairs, I finally spot a man leaning against the railing, his sharp blue eyes locking with mine.

My heart skips a beat and I swallow nervously, caught in the intense eye contact with Zane.

There’s a glass in his hand, so he lifts it, lazily tipping it in my direction.

Dragging my eyes away from his, my pulse quickens as several thoughts cross my mind.

They’re those same illicit thoughts I’ve been having since last night.

The guilt resurfaces, the shame too—but also the tension and pleasure I felt. All these emotions are coursing through me at once.

My heart pounds so loudly I can practically hear it over the blasting music in the background.

Get yourself together, I urge myself desperately.

I can’t mess up this interview. And I can’t behave like a lustful loser in front of my fiancé’s brother.

But will I really be able to do it—pretend and act normal?

I mean, it’s just one glance from him, and my resolve is already crumbling to ashes. How much worse will it be when I sit in front of him and actually start speaking to him?

Fuck. I really have to get my shit together.

Eventually, I draw in a deep breath, raking my fingers through my loose hair. With another slow exhale, I finally summon the courage to walk upstairs to meet him.

I think I can pretend by avoiding his gaze and sticking only to what I actually came here to do tonight.

After the interview, I’m gone.

There is no need to fuss or overthink.

As I step into the cozy, serene lounge above the chaos of the partying crowd downstairs, I notice Zane is no longer standing by the railing. Instead, he’s seated on a plush couch, legs crossed, a wine glass in his hand.

The air is mixed with the scent of expensive champagne, clean sweat, and of course, his intoxicating cedarwood scent.

Our eyes meet again, and I swallow subtly when he speaks in that deep voice that practically vibrates down my spine. I almost shudder, but I don’t.

“You’re late. Will said 7 sharp,” he glances at his wristwatch before arching a brow, “and this, Lilah—this is thirty minutes past 7. What’s your excuse?” He tsks, his expression inscrutable, and it unnerves me.

However, I approach him in careful yet confident strides—I won’t let him intimidate me tonight.

I offer a light apology with a convenient excuse, hoping he believes it. “I’m sorry I’m late. Got stuck in traffic.”

Now, there was no traffic, but who cares?

As I pull out a chair, it’s impossible to ignore his appearance.

Zane is clad in all black, his dark brown hair slicked back to perfection.

Fierce tattoos etch along his neck, trailing into the ones hidden beneath his shirt—the ones I may have stared at too long in that thirst trap picture last night. My eyes greedily rake over the muscular arms I once fantasized about before I quickly snap out of it.

Nonetheless, he doesn’t just have an attractive physique that could easily make a woman like me orgasm—everything about him is dangerously attractive.

I know it’s inappropriate to think this, considering he’s my fiancé’s brother, but it’s the truth.

Zane Thorne is one of the most handsome men alive. And he carries an arrogant and dominant aura that could set one’s nerves on fire.

People in the city dread him. Some dislike him because he’s a painful, unbearable asshole, while others stay far away because he’s simply very dangerous.

Hard to read. Hard to predict.

“Traffic? What traffic?” he huffs derisively, his snort pulling me from my thoughts. “Next time, try coming up with a better lie than that. I’m greatly disappointed.”

Since I know he’s caught me, there’s no point in defending myself—it would only spark an argument I’m not ready for.

I promised Seb I would be careful around his psychotic brother, and I intend to keep that promise.

I take my seat in the vacant chair directly opposite him, avoiding his piercing gaze like my life depends on it—because it actually does.

Retrieving my notebook, jotter, and pen from my bag, I flip through the pages before settling in.

I’m nervous as hell, still haunted by memories of last night, but I force the thoughts aside.

Hesitantly, I look up at him. “So… shall we begin the interview, Mr. Thorne?”

“Keeping it professional, I see,” a devilish smirk lifts the corner of his lips. “Was that what my little brother advised you to do? By the way, how is he doing? He’s stopped returning my calls… I wonder why.” There’s a sarcastic edge to his tone, and I almost curse the motherfucker out loud.

Yet maintaining my composure, I reply, “Seb is fine. Can we start now, please?”

He shrugs. “Sure. Ask your questions.” He sips his wine, watching me from the rim of the glass.

I almost melt under his stare, but I swiftly redirect my focus to the jotter, posing the first question. “You’ve remained a billionaire for five consecutive years, Mr. Thorne,” I raise my head, adding steadily, “mind telling us the biggest challenge in staying at the top?”

“How about you go first?” he asks, tone taunting.

I frown, confused. “I… don’t understand?”

He shrugs, mock intrigue flickering across his features. “Mind telling me the biggest challenge in staying in your relationship with my brother? I’m just genuinely curious… that’s not a bad thing, is it?” He winks, smirking with devilish amusement.