“No, I’m serious.” Logan glanced around the bar, watching as the rowdy night slowly picked up steam. “What does it imply? People think I don’t work? That I didn’t slave away day and night to get to where I am today?”
Dylan chuckled, raising two fingers at the waitress yet again. “I think the point is, you no longer have to work. You have the easiest life in the world now, little brother.”
“Little brother?” Logan shook his head with a grin. “What makes you think that I’m the younger one? I was actually thinking the opposite.”
“Not a chance.”
“And I don’t have the easiest life in the world.” Logan laughed aloud as his mind raced through his daily routine. “At the office by seven. Work round the clock. Leave at midnight. You know what, there are parts of my estate I swear I’ve never seen in daylight.”
“Parts of your estate.” Dylan snorted, tipping the waitress as she lay the new shots upon the table. “Yeah
man, I feel really sorry for you.”
“I’m just saying—I’d kill to have a nine to five job like you. Not bring anything home with me. Turn everything off the second I clock out at five.”
“Aw—you know about ‘clocking out?’” Dylan raised his eyebrows like he was witnessing something adorable. “I’d say you learned that from a movie, but it sounds like you don’t have time to watch those either. What between the jet, the women, and the private estate.”
“The women.” Logan chuckled, not noticing the whiskey until it was placed right in front of him. “From the looks of things, you have a lot better luck with the women than I do.”
“Well, that’s true.” Dylan tossed back his shot with a wicked grin. “Construction might not come with a gilded castle, but it does come with certain other...perks. I mean, you saw my profile on social media.”
Logan tossed back the shot without thinking. His fifth in less than an hour. “Yes, I’ve seen evidence of those perks.”
Dylan quickly ordered two more drinks, fighting back laughter all the while.
The new shots were set on the table, but this time, Logan pushed his away.
“No, I really shouldn’t. There’s this meeting tomorrow I can’t reschedule or miss, so I’ve actually got to get going—”
“I don’t think so.” Dylan caught his sleeve as he pushed to his feet, and pulled him back down into his chair. “Everything can be rescheduled or missed—you’re the CEO of the fucking company! Loosen the hell up!”
Logan shook his head regretfully. “Can’t. Sorry. But let’s do this again—”
“Hey.” Dylan picked up a drink and pressed it into Logan’s hand, before taking one for himself. “You called me here, right? You wanted to meet? Get to know your long-lost brother?”
Logan glanced down uncertainly. “Yeah, very much.”
“Then we’ve got twenty-five years’ worth of bonding to catch up on.” Dylan clinked his glass against Logan’s, his eyes sparkling with a devilish smile. “Drink up, little brother. The night is young...”
Chapter 8
After the bar came another bar. Then another one after that. Then one more after that, before Dylan decided they needed to up their game and they ducked into a nightclub.
The flashing lights pulsed across Logan’s face—illuminating it in neon shades of purple, blue, and green as the room began to gently spin. He threw out a hand, latching onto Dylan for balance and as he headed for the bar—but Dylan only smiled, pulling him the other direction.
“Come on—we’re dancing.”
Logan’s head whipped around with a drunken chill.
“Wait—what? No, I don’t—”
He might as well have saved his breath. The next second, the two of them were swept away in the crowd, rising and falling with the pounding beats as the music picked up and the room around them took flight.
It was unlike anything Logan had ever done before. Not since his days as a rebellious teenager—days when he’d make it a regular occurrence to sneak out of his parents’ two-bedroom house and frequent Miami’s underage clubs—had he seen such a spectacle.
And this...? This blew that out of the water.
Scantily clad bodies twisted and writhed—leaping into the air, before coming back down to grind up against one another. The air outside might have had a frosty chill, but the club was hot. Thick with fog machines and sweat. Logan’s first assessment, as random as it might have been, was that most of these people would have fit right in at a club in Miami.