Bound by my blood

Chapter four

Ameena swings her car into the parking lot of Seduction, the club she swears is the place to be in New York right now. The neon-red sign pulses like a heartbeat against the dark sky, and the bass from inside thrums through the pavement.

We ditch our coats in the backseat and step out, the cold night air biting at our bare skin. My heels click sharply against the concrete with each step, a rhythmic counter to the distant music.

Then I see it—the line.

A long queue of partygoers, shifting impatiently, their breath rising in white clouds. No fucking way.

"Ameena, I'm not waiting in that," I announce, exasperated.

She merely giggles, sliding a pair of sleek black sunglasses into my hands. 

"Don't be ridiculous, put these on. We don't have to wait in line. Paparazzi might be lurking." She winks, "Now, after you, princess."

Rolling my eyes, I slip the glasses on and strut past the crowd. A chorus of annoyed protests follows, but I ignore them.

A burly security guard steps forward to block my path. Unfazed, I lower the sunglasses just enough for him to get a clear look at my face.

Recognition dawns instantly. 

"Miss Castillo," he greets, a forced smile tugging at his lips as he pulls open the door, "welcome."

I waltz inside with Ameena on my heels, the thick scent of sweat, perfume, and alcohol wrapping around me like a second skin.

The club is alive.

Bodies press together on the dance floor, rolling and grinding to the heavy bass. Flashes of neon paint the room in electric blues and purples, and the air vibrates with laughter, clinking glasses, and music turned up to an almost unbearable volume.

My gaze sweeps the club until it lands on the bar—my new found sanctuary.

I weave my way through the throng, Ameena close behind, and slide onto a barstool.

 "Two Grenadian Rums," I call to the bartender.

He raises a brow, amused, "Trying to forget something, love?"

"I'm trying to forget everything." I rest my elbow on the counter, "Add some Sangrita shots and an extra rum too."

He lets out a low chuckle but doesn't argue. The second the ten shots hit the counter, I knock them all back in rapid succession, the burn a fiery kiss down my throat.

Ameena's eyes widen, "Holy shit—"

"You better slow down, little lady," the bartender warns, watching me with intrigue, "My boss is here tonight. He's... not someone you wanna be reckless around."

I shrug him off, already sipping my rum. The drink is sweet and strong, the taste lingering like a sugar rush.

Ameena takes a sip of hers and immediately grimaces, slamming it back onto the counter.

 "That shit is disgusting." 

She flags the bartender down for a beer instead. For a while, we drink and chat—avoiding the one topic I refuse to discuss.

My impending marriage.

The mere thought makes my stomach turn, so I drown it in alcohol.

"Let's go dance!" I slur, pushing up from the stool, only to stumble immediately. My world tilts—but before I can hit the ground, strong arms catch me.