Page 8 of All Mixed Up

Though the bass thumps and excited screams were dimmed once I entered the back hall, I did the whole leg-checking thing again. I was wearing stiletto boots, but it sounded like I was clomping down the polished wood on pseudo horse hooves. And yeah, I loved joking about beasty role play as the next girl who hung out with half of the Big Apple’s kink community because of work, but I drew the line at wearing tails, paws, and hooves as fashion accessories.

Thank God the club’s main business office wasn’t far. I got to the portal but took a deep breath before knocking. Despite the vibrations from the main room that shook the whole door frame, I detected laughter and lively conversation from inside. Another good sign, right? If people were laughing, that definitely had to be a good—

Before I could finish my steadying breath, the door was swung open for me.

“Juliette!”

Holy. Shit. Milo had actually yelled it. But at me or because of me?

“Come in, étoile belle de la nuit!”

“Huh?”

“It means you’re the beautiful star of the—”

“I know what it means.” I gulped hard, recovering with an embarrassed smile. “I’m sorry; I don’t mean to be—”

“Of course you don’t.” The man was sincere about it, leaving me with the impression that I could tell him his suit sucked and his breath smelled—neither of which were true—and he’d be just fine with it. “Now get yourself in here.” He was sincere about the dictate too—down to every bitten-out syllable. I hadn’t planned on disobeying him anyway, which was a damn good thing, I guessed—

Especially when I fully entered the room, and was doused in a round of uproarious applause.

“Wh-what the hell?” I finally got out. The smile I attempted as a follow-up probably made me look seasick, but that was an accurate match to how I battled the new pitch and sway of the room—not helped one bit when someone pushed a glass of champagne into my hand. In a daze, I recognized that person as Leese. And I do mean nothing. She looked nothing like her normal self, red hair pulled into a sleek ponytail, a pink sparkly cocktail dress hugging her adorable curves. Greer stood next to her, dressed in an elegant cream party dress with a gorgeous tea-length skirt.

On the other side of Greer were Gigi and Nico. Next to them was Arista Proust, Milo’s gorgeous wife, looking worthy of a magazine cover in a gold sheath dress and sky-high heels with distinct red bottoms. When had she gotten here? And who on Earth were the rest of these people? The office, while luxuriously appointed, wasn’t big. There were at least twenty people pushing at its confines, all elegantly dressed, staring as if expecting me to spout a speech.

But a speech for what? Stumbling in here to begin with? Being the “beautiful star” of the evening? What on earth was going on?

Luckily, Milo stepped forward again, raising the flute of bubbling amber liquid in his own hand, his smile a blinding dazzle. “Medames et messieurs, thank you very much for joining us tonight. Since last year, when we first scouted this beautiful city as a location for the next Avanti nightclub in Europe, all of you supported the venture in one form or another. Your newspaper articles, real estate expertise, zoning help, and even babysitting recommendations—”

“Amen,” Arista cut in with a musical laugh, answering my curiosity about whether they’d brought their gorgeous twin tweens along for the trip.

“Well, it’s all been nothing short of invaluable to us.” Milo concluded his thought after a loving wink his wife’s way. “Now, tonight, I have the pleasure of announcing that all our hard work has paid off—spectacularly.” He hitched his glass up a little higher. “As of fifteen minutes ago, the opening night revenues of Avanti Paris have officially topped those of the Vegas, Rome, and New York clubs.”

This time, I wasted no time joining the little crowd in their deafening cheers. Money might have been the carrot that got me here, but ka-ching was always a better sound when shared with friends—especially the ones who were here with me now. As Leese, Greer, and Gigi pulled me into a squealing group hug, every stress or care I had was pulverized to dust. Though I knew the granules would rebuild themselves into the strain and worry that rode me every day like stone shoulder pads, it was a damn wonderful feeling to be freed of those burdens for a few miraculous minutes.

So. Damn. Wonderful.

There was a tap on my shoulder, prompting me to reluctantly break up our kumbaya time. “Sorry to barge in on the girl power love fest, but I gotta get in on the hugging while the Force is being good to us.”

“Thanks, Obi-Wan,” I chuckled out, letting the guy pull me into a massive bear hug.

“You did real good, my little beat magic Jedi,” he murmured into my hair, and I wanted to laugh again but couldn’t. Having to swallow down my tears was taking up all my energy. I truly felt more like his little sister right now, instead of a tiny cog in the big Avanti machine.

More giant chunks of feeling wonderful. And warm. And needed. And appreciated. And valuable. So many massive chunks… Or maybe that was just the champagne. At the moment, I didn’t want to split hairs. I’d accept it all. It had been a while since I could bask in any of those feelings, let alone all of them together.

Thwop.

Somebody had cracked another bottle of the bubbly, and my eyes widened. Milo didn’t miss it. “Everything okay, Juls?”

“Fine. Fine.” I made it a chastisement, since his comment snapped Gigi, Greer, and Leese’s heads around, openly fretting. “Just surprised. This is damn good stuff.” I mock-glared at Milo. “Eating into the profits already, boss?”

He chuffed good-naturedly. “You’re worth it, kid.”

“Hey. I’m twenty-three!”

“Yeah. A kid.” His assertion gained an approving grunt from Nico, and then commiserating nods from all three of my girlfriends. I swung a fresh glower at all of them, getting only more of those sagacious nods in return.

“It’s so easy for me to forget how young you are.” Leese slid a look over me that was damn near mournful.