Buffy sighed through a smirk at the seedy nightclub doors. The soft glow of light from the nearby street lamp, the muffle of music from inside; it was a comforting nostalgia in this strange place. But the feeling vanished when she swung open the door. The walls were a dark blue hue, the floors were painted black. The colorful lasers from the DJ's booth bounced around the room as the heavy beats moved a variety of dancers. The bitter scent of hard liquor and sweat filled her nose.

"That'll be twenty." The bouncer's deep voice startled her.

"Oh, right. Okay." She pulled her phone from her tight jeans' pocket and pulled money from its attached card and money clip.

"Although, if you wanna take off your coat and do a little twirl, I'll let you in for free."

She scowled and tossed a $20 bill at him.

"Aight, mama. No need to get nasty. Go on in." He lifted the velvet rope and nodded toward the bar.

Buffy pushed her hips away keeping as much distance as possible and slid through the ropes. She wasn't too worried about a stalker, though, as he was already hitting on a group of loud, flirty women entering behind her.

She shrugged off the fitted leather coat and gave it to the coat check in before walking up to the bar. Her long blonde hair cascaded down her bare back as she leaned against the edge of the bar. The bartender had been in a rush, flitting from patron to patron. It must have been the gleam of her shimmery halter top because he spotted her right away.

Ignoring customers who had been there longer, he asked her, "What can I get you, gorgeous?"

"Shot of tequila." She smiled. The alcohol will be out of her system in minutes with her healing rate, but no one will think twice about the tiny blonde doing shots.

He poured the shot, "Don't mess around. I like it."

"How much I owe you?" She felt like she was shouting over the music.

"First one's on me." He winked.

Buffy downed the shot and slammed the shot glass on the bartop playfully. She put a $10 next to it. "I'll be back later."

She looked around the crowded dance floor. Maybe I should've waited. She felt suddenly alone - a feeling that she'd been experiencing more and more, but never quite got use to.

"Hello, beautiful." Said a smooth voice from behind.

She whipped her head around to find an attractive man looking down at her. "H-hi." AM I 12? She looked back to the crowd on the dance floor. Her cheeks flared with warmth.

"The DJ'S good tonight. Wanna dance?" His eyes flicked to a group of men on the balcony as he waited for her to answer. She followed the look to a man in a navy suit leaning against the railing next to a redhead with a body that made her self-conscious.

"Will his stare set me on fire if I say no?" Buffy kept eye contact with the man in the navy suit.

"Hah, that's just my brother. He's been following my every move since we lost our dad. Very protective, but he's harmless, just seriously nosy." He shrugged.

"Oh, sorry about your dad, but a man that looks as important as he does probably has a right to be nosy."

"Heh, yeah, I guess he does. He does own this club." He looked her over, "So, whaddya say?"

"Oh, well yeah. Dancing with the owner's brother has got to have its perks." She winked and led him onto the dance floor.

Christian cringed as broken glass crunched beneath his brown leather dress shoes. The gravel-laden parking lot was a much seedier sight at night. He shoved his hands in the pockets of the designer jacket that intentionally matched his shoes to hide his Bulgari watch.

I don't why we couldn't at least drive over together. For all I know she could also be dead in an alley. Christian frowned when he noticed Buffy's rental, thinking he arrived before her. He was anxious and furious. Jaw clenched, his teeth were grinding before he even entered.

The stranger pushed her soft blonde locks over her shoulder as Buffy rubbed her backside against his groin teasingly. The music was loud and fast, it made her feel wild and primal. Her hands roamed her body as she slithered against the handsome stranger. She felt young and forgot why she had even come here until she lifted from a seductive hair flip to see Christian's stone-grey eyes glowering at her.

Fucking Christ. Christian clenched his fists in an envious rage. I don't want her. He told himself as he walked to the bar and ordered a bottle of top shelf whiskey. By the time Buffy reached him, he was three shots in.

"Chri-"

He towered over her, "I don't care if you wanna have a fucking party, not on my dime, Ms. Summers, not on my fucking dime."

"Hey," the handsome stranger stepped behind Buffy. "Everything alright here?"

Her heart pounded in her ears as Christian's chest puffed out slightly. I can work with this. Her honey eyes were suddenly doe-like. She batted her eyelashes, "Nothing like running into your ex while you're grinding on a handsome stranger." She faked a sad smile. "Can you just give us a minute?"

"Yeah, yeah sure." He moved to the other side of the bar, his eyes never leaving her.

Christian took a deep breath of annoyance. "Can I ask what the fuck you're doing?"

"Yeah, wondering why 'fuck' is your word of the day."

His eyes narrowed. "You're not funny. This isn't funny."

"You're wrong. I am funny. But you're right, this situation isn't, but this is sometimes what I have to do. I came in early for surveillance and already caught the attention of the owner's brother. That guy on the second level in the navy blue suit? Yeah, looks shady as hell and thanks to your angry mood, he's going to take me up there to make sure you don't bother me." She pointed his chest and he flinched. "Do whatever you want. I'll text you if I think things are getting too shady."

Christian looked between her and the stranger across the bar. "Come to the Penthouse when you're done."

Buffy raised one eyebrow, "Not sure I'll feel like getting yelled at in the middle of the night, but I guess I've been through worse. See you later." She turned and made her way to the handsome stranger, the ends of her hair tickling her back as she walked.

Christian felt the stir of an erection as the light hit the pale skin of her back. He took another shot of whiskey and debated calling Welch to pick him up. But a tall, brunette with a curvy silhouette and eyes full of hunger kept him from reaching for his phone.

"Allow me to apologize for being too forward in advance, but I have this fantasy of your body being against mine." A soft foreign accent he couldn't place accentuated her sultry voice.

He glanced at Buffy on balcony with her new friend. "Allow me to make that a reality." His head was fogging up as the liquor caught up to him after the rush of adrenaline. He felt like he was floating as she led him to the middle of the dancefloor. Bodies rubbed against each other everywhere. This beautiful brunette moved her hips side to side and watched him follow suit. He glanced at the white stone dangling in her plunging cleavage. She was gorgeous; a perfect specimen to dominate, but it wasn't what he wanted. Christian grabbed her waist and spun her around. He pressed against her back and closed his eyes. In this heavy buzz she was someone else, someone he wanted to caress. He reached down her body, his hands feeling the skin of her thighs under the hem of her short dress. He brought his hands up, inching her shirt up just enough to make her gasp in desire. Christian dragged his hands up her body and over her breasts. He pushed her hair from her neck and whispered a thought for someone else, "You make me crazy."

Buffy's mouth hung open as her grip tightened on the railing. Her stomach taught as she glared down at Christian.

"Spiteful guy, huh?"

"Sorry, I'm so rude. I didn't even catch your name." She turned angrily away from Christian's erotic display.

"Jesse."

"Nice to formally meet you, Jesse. I'm Claire."

The man in the navy suit approved and placed a hand on Jesse's shoulder. His grin was large and territorial. "Jesse, who's your guest?"

"Claire." Buffy held out her hand for a shake. "You must be the brother."

He looked at her hand and reluctantly shook it. "The name is Dameon Slant. And what else has my brother told you?"

Dameon. Is it psychological to be a douche when you have a name like Dameon? "Not much. Just that you own this club, which is amazing by the way."

Dameon tugged at his lapels, "I should hope so. I put every cent our father left us into this place."

"Alright, Dameon. Well we're just gonna hang out here for a while, if you don't mind." Jesse interjected.

"By all means. I hope you enjoy the VIP lounge, Claire." Dameon gave Jesse a stern look before walking away.

"Oh, the VIP lounge? Never really did the VIP thing at a club."

Jesse's brows scrunched slightly with worry. "Actually, I'm not really feeling the whole VIP treatment tonight. Wanna go back downstairs and make your ex jealous some more?"

Buffy rushed a glance to the lower level, not finding a trace of Christian anywhere. But relief settled her nerves when she the saw the beautiful brunette dancing with another man. "Looks like he left." She looked back at Jesse, "Guess we don't have to worry about him at all." Buffy's phone buzzed. Jesse watched her curiously as the large screen lit up her face. Don't be alarmed by my car in the lot. Drank too much. Welch will pick me up. She looked at Jesse. "Oh, I'm so sorry. My roommate's drunk texting me about puking on the bathroom floor." She tilted her head to the side to show Jesse she was disappointed. "I have to go."

"Oh, well, let me walk you out."

"No, that's okay. In a rush." She began to head down the stairs and toward the coat check. She turned around, "Wait, can I get your number?"

Jesse grinned, "Absolutely."

Buffy waited for the coat check girl to get her jacket when she texted Christian back. You're still here? His reply was almost immediate. Out front waiting. Buffy stifled a grin. Call him off. I'm leaving, too.

Buffy slipped on her jacket as she walked toward the exit. The bouncer opened the door and she was pelted with a cold mist. When did it start raining? The bouncer chuckled at her displeased reaction.

Christian stood under the awning, cold and tipsy. "Is your date over?"

How quickly her mood was taken down a notch. "Probably ended around the same time you came all over that girl's ass on the dance floor."

Christian's eyes were wide, and so were hers. They both wondered if she meant to say it out loud.

"I just mean you don't have to be such a dick." She signed lightly. Because that made it better. "Come on, I'll drive you home."

The drive was quiet except for the GPS automated voice instructing Buffy where to turn. Christian examined her from the passenger seat in his whiskey-haze. Everything he's seen her do, she'd done with a confidence and self-assurance that many who strive for it never achieve, even driving. He traced her profile in his mind between flickers of lights from cars and lampposts. Christian barely paid attention to the road ahead, he didn't feel the need. She knew where they were going and he trusted her to get them there. He rested his head on the car seat and inhaled the scent of sunflowers and rain.