Ms winters

Noli me tangere

The hum of the engine is barely noticeable under the steady drumbeat of my growing frustration.

Fingers tighten on the wheel i manoeuvre through the traffic, the city lights bouncing off the sleek, black hood of my jaguar. I don't even want to be out tonight- certainly not on a Wednesday, of all nights. I should be at home grading or anything else. But no, once again, I'm heading to LUX, my club, to put out fires that should've never started. I have a funny feeling that cecelia could've handled it just fine. However she is on a mission, anything to get me out of the house.

I glance down at my phone on the passenger seat, Mavery's text glowing on the screen, her usual worried behaviours displayed while describing some nonsense about some VIP drama. Apparently, some football star is pissed that his bottle of Cristal wasn't presented with enough fanfare, or something equally ridiculous.

'Who even cares?' They're paying thousands of dollars just to sit in the dark and act important. But it's my name on the club, so it's my problem now.

The streets of downtown are packed as usual, bright neon lights flickering in the corner of my vision, their colours blurring as I speed through the narrow lanes. Tapping my nails on the leather wheel, each click of my perfectly manicured fingers matching the rhythm of my growing annoyance. This wasn't how I envisioned my night.

Easing on the gas, barely stopping at the red light. A car honks in the distance but I couldn't care less, glancing at the rearview mirror my hands adjust the diamond earrings that dangled down from my ears, another honk breaks through my thoughts , causing me to slam my foot on the breaks just in time to avoid some idiot cutting across lanes. God, people drive like maniacs down here.

*
Sighting I swing the car onto the more secluded streets, where LUX sits like a jewel in the night. The clubs massive sign glows in gold, screaming opulence to everyone within a five- mile radius. The whole place reeks of money- my money. I built it from the ground up, paid for every inch of marble and gold trim, made sure every single light fixture looked like it cost more than a months rent for most people. And people come. They come in droves to feel important, to bask in the luxury that I designed. While I'm still the one driving down here at midnight to deal with something as stupid as a champagne error.

As the club comes into view there's already a line out the door, the usual sea of hopefuls dressed to the nines, waiting to be deemed worthy of entry. Or most likely trying to sneak in with fake ID's, amateurs. The bouncers checking each ID moving at their own pace like they've got all the time in the world. Ugh. Men.

Pulling up to the private entrance. The valet practically jumps to attention when he sees me. The poor kid doesn't even look me in the eye as I toss him my card. Smart. I'm in no mood for small talk or fake smiles.

With determined steps I slip out of my vehicle, the sound of my YSL heels clicking against the pavement almost drowned by the heavy bass thumping from inside. The music so loud I could feel it in my chest already, vibrating through the ground beneath my feet. The club is alive, buzzing with energy.

Taking a final deep breath I push through the doors, inside the lights flash in time with the music, everything dark and sleek, just how iv planned it. The air thick with a medley of scents, each one more extravagant than the last. A heavy musk of expensive perfumes mingled with the Smokey tang of top-self cigarettes, creating an intoxicating aroma that seems to cling to the very air I breathe.

The sent of alcohol heavy hung around the club in an almost hypnotic manner, the room itself was a testament to opulence, adorned with velvet seating and gleaming gold accents, the dim lighting cast shadows across the faces of the wealthy people who milled about, each one dressed in nice clothes but none quite luxurious. 'Why can anything run smoothly?' Every time I think things are fine, something like this happens and it's always me who has to play the babysitter to grown ass men. Pathetic. I step deeper into the club, eyes scanning the crowd, already bracing myself for whatever nonsense is waiting for me upstairs in vip.