The CEO Who Won’t Let Me Go

"Why don’t you want to come with us, Zoe?" my sister asked again, peppering me with questions while I pinned her hair into an elegant updo. "All you have to do is put on one of my dresses, and you'd look gorgeous."

"Maybe. But my friends are waiting for me at the club, and I don't want to bail on them," I said, giving her a small, smug smile.

The mirror attached to the vanity reflected two complete opposites.

Valeri was light. I was darkness.

Somehow, though, our parents had gotten our hair colors backwards.

Valeri was a tiny brunette with a delicate figure, her soft curves hidden beneath a beautiful burgundy dress from some designer brand I didn't recognize. Fashion had never really been my thing. Every conversation about it made me feel like an idiot. I could admit her dress was gorgeous, but to me, it was way too proper.

I had more curves, wider hips, and no desire to hide any of it. My short black dress looked, in my mother's words, "like something a cheap slut would wear."

Naturally, I'd paired it with heavy makeup and loose blonde curls falling down my back.

"I don't like your friends, Zoe," Valeri said with a sigh, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Especially Kriss. Honestly, you should stop hanging out with all three of them. Can't you tell they're only using you? The only reason they get into places like this is because of your last name."

Her words hit harder than I wanted them to.

Of course I knew they were using me.

But I needed them.

Needed them like oxygen, if only because they drove my mother insane. The only time she ever seemed to notice I existed was when I did something she hated.

Even tonight, the four of us were going to one of the most exclusive clubs in the city using a pass I'd stolen from Mom's purse.

Did I actually want to spend the evening with them?

Not really.

But no one had invited me to the company's anniversary party with the rest of the family, and there was no way I was going to beg.

"I'll think about it," I said, setting the curling iron down and unplugging it. "Your hair's done. Go. And good luck meeting your fiancé. I'm sure he's wonderful. Mom and Dad would never marry you off to just anybody."

Valeri got to her feet and turned toward me. One look at her face, and I braced myself for another lecture.

Instead, her expression softened, and she smiled.

You couldn't hide happiness like that. Not even when you were trying to scold your little sister.

"He's amazing, Zoe. I really want you to meet him."

"You'll get your chance eventually," I said. "Tomorrow you'll tell me everything."

Valeri pouted.

"So you're not coming home until morning? I wanted to tell you tonight." She grabbed her purse and headed for the door. "Don't get drunk. I won't survive waiting that long."

"I'll try," I said with a quiet laugh.

Not that it mattered. I didn't drink.

No matter how hard my terrible friends tried to talk me into it, I always refused. I liked knowing exactly what was going on around me. I smoked sometimes, sure, but cigarettes didn't make you lose control.

A few minutes before nine, my parents left the house arm in arm with Valeri, and I called a cab to the club.

I met my partners in bad decisions right outside the entrance to the most exclusive place in the city.

I knew Mom came here all the time.

It was her favorite club.

And tonight, I was finally going to find out why.

"Zoe!" a gorgeous redhead squealed, throwing herself around my neck.

Even in my heels, I was still way shorter than Kriss, and my face ended up shoved straight into her cleavage. She always tried so hard to look expensive, but the cheap perfume she drowned herself in ruined the effect.

"I thought you weren't coming."

"Like I'd miss this?" I said with a smile, glancing over at the guys standing a few feet away.

"So what are we waiting for?" Kriss asked. "You brought the pass, right?"

"Obviously."

I pulled the small black card with the gold crown out of my purse and flashed it.

Miron gave a low whistle. Sergey grinned, wrapped an arm around both Kriss and me, and steered us toward the entrance.

The bouncer looked us over with obvious suspicion. For a second, I thought he was going to stop us.

Then he saw the card.

Rules were rules.

Anyone with one of those got in.

His jaw tightened, but he stepped aside without another word.

Inside, soft dance music drifted through the huge, expensive-looking club. The place practically screamed money.

I followed the others toward the bar.

There weren't many nonalcoholic options, but there were a few. I ordered a milkshake and turned to look around.

Everywhere I looked, men and women sat in small groups, drinking, laughing, unwinding after the week. Among the rich businessmen, spoiled socialites, and women polished to perfection, there were plenty of girls who clearly weren't there for the free champagne.

I watched one of them leave with an older man and disappear upstairs.

What was up there? Private rooms? VIP suites? Something else?

"Try this. It's incredible," Kriss said, holding out a glass full of some suspicious dark-blue cocktail.

"No thanks. You know I don't drink." My gaze drifted across the room again before landing on a huge aquarium against the far wall. Instantly, I wanted a closer look. "I'm going for a walk."

"And I'm going dancing!" Kriss announced.

She shoved her drink onto the bar, grabbed Sergey by the arm, and dragged him toward the dance floor. He looked less than upset about it considering he'd been openly staring at one of the dancers a second earlier.

Carefully balancing on my heels, I made my way through the crowd, weaving between tables with my milkshake in hand.

I almost made it to the aquarium.

Almost.

A man stepped around the corner so suddenly I crashed right into him.

My drink splashed all over the front of his jacket.

"Oh my God. I'm so sorry," I blurted, looking up.

The man towering over me looked absolutely furious.

Another guy appeared behind him.

"Everything okay, Al?"

"No," the first man said coldly. "It's not."

Then he looked down at me like I'd just crawled out from under his shoe.

"How exactly are you planning to pay for that?"

I had always hated rich jerks who thought the world revolved around them.

Without breaking eye contact, I opened my purse, took out my wallet, and counted out enough cash for dry cleaning.

Then I slid the bills into the pocket of his jacket.

"There's a cleaner around the corner," I said coolly. "They'll make it look brand new. That should cover it. Keep the change."