Instead, I tried to make my way to the back of the room. Before I got a chance, however, someone noticed Kiegan and squealed out his name. I found myself suddenly squished in with what felt like a thousand gorgeous girls, all of whom were desperate to get at Kiegan. Before I knew it he’d been dragged over to the dance floor, and I got the slightest glimpse of him dancing away as I made my way to the edge of the room, hoping to find Karen, the manager I’d spoken to on the phone.
After asking a couple employees I was led into a hallway at the back, where I found Karen in a cramped office on the phone, looking both like she could go out there and party at any time, and frazzled enough that she would never step foot on the floor if she had her way.
Holding up one finger, I waited while she ended her phone call, then she looked at me with a gaze displaying both idle curiosity and complete indifference.
“Yes?” she asked.
“I’m Tina Hunt, Kiegan Hunt’s manager,” I told her. Suddenly her demeanour changed completely, and she was as charming and polite as could be.
“Of course, welcome Tina. I hope Kiegan is enjoying himself so far at our venue.”
“He looked like it the last time I saw him,” I replied with a wry smile. I couldn’t help the pang of jealousy that had run through me when I saw a group of skinny blonde girls grinding up next to him.
“Good. I’ll make sure that we have a VIP room at the back set up for him as well. Free champagne, of course. Is there anything else you’ll need?”
“No, that’s it, thank you.”
“Our pleasure. As you requested, I made sure to call the local papers and paparazzi, they were going to show up anyway because they wanted to get a look at Pitbull, but now they know that Kiegan will be here as well. I’ve made sure that there will be pictures of him printed online.”
“Excellent, thank you Karen.”
With that I stood up and shook her hand, and knowing there was nothing else for me to do, I made my way back to the pounding music and crowded dance floor.
Of course, I wanted to let Kiegan know we had a VIP room. That was exactly where I intended to spend all my time, I had no desire whatsoever to go out and dance with some drunk idiots. Clubbing just wasn’t my scene. If it were up to me, I’d be curled up in bed with a glass of white wine and a good book, but unfortunately, that doesn’t get your boss’ picture on the front page of TMZ.
Squishing my way through the crowds, I found myself in the middle of a group of people dancing away to the latest Katy Perry hit. I spotted Kiegan through the crowd and forced my way through.
“There’s a VIP room set up for you, whenever you want it,” I yelled into his ear as he spotted me, not even breaking a beat.
“Sweet, thanks sis. Wanna dance?”
“Absolutely not,” I yelled back.
“Good,” he replied, grabbing me by the waist and pulling me closer towards him.
“Wait, I said no!” I exclaimed, trying to pull away from him.
“I know what you said, and I know what you really want,” he said into my ear, and I knew he was right. Damn him, he was right. How did he know? Why did he have this effect on me?
“Fine, one song,” I conceded, trying to turn off the voice in my brain yelling at me to stop it, yelling at me to go to the VIP room and play 94% on my phone until it was time to go.
As we moved together, our bodies as one on the dance floor, it was like everyone else disappeared. I didn’t think about anything other than the beat, and the man standing in front of me, the man I’d had sex with less than twelve hours earlier, the most taboo kind of sex.
The beat pounded in my ears as his hands found my hips, the feeling of his fingers on my skin bringing back memories from before, and I knew that if I didn’t get away after one song, I was going to be in trouble.
Three songs later I finally pulled away.
“I’m done,” I yelled at Kiegan. “I’ll be in the VIP room.”
He just smiled at me and nodded before I turned and made my way up an old set of stairs to the loft guarded by a bouncer.
“I’m with Kiegan Hunt, I’m his PA Tina,” I told the guy, who nodded and let me in. “Second door on the left,” he told me, and I walked through a hallway that quite frankly reminded me of what I imagined the private area of a strip club must have looked like. White carpets with pink and UV fluorescent light shining all over it, white walls, and solid doors that led into windowless rooms. I knew this was one of the hottest clubs in Miami, and if this was what passed for hip and modern, and not the clubbing equivalent of 80s porn, well then I was well out of the loop.