All mistakes are mine.


"Monsieur Cullen, bonsoir." It's the club manager, decked out in a pantsuit that came straight off the rack. The soft blue blazer doesn't hug her delicate shoulders, in fact, she looks as if the coat hanger is still stuck in there somewhere.

"Oui?" I'm a little too drunk to care about why she's here talking instead of bringing us another bottle of Dom.

"Il y a un problème avec votre carte de crédit, monsieur."

I sigh agitatedly.

"What? What's the fucking problem?" My French stops when I've had one too many drinks.

"I am sorry," she goes on, her accent thick. "But your card has been declined, sir."

"Declined?" I huff. "God, sweetheart…that's a Centurion." I doubt she even knows what that means. I doubt she can even afford the five grand annual fees AmEx charges for it. "Call American Express if you can't figure it out."

She just stares at me, one of her pale brows arched, a scowl on her face. It doesn't really make her prettier.

"Sir, we have phoned them, of course, before informing you. The company was able to tell us that your account has been frozen."

"Frozen?" I can't believe my ears. "What the fuck?"

I hear Diego gasp next to me, his eyes watery, sniffling like a junkie from snorting premium coke off the tits of the brunette sandwiched between the two of us.

"Dude, what the fuck?" He whispers.

"Hang on", I say.

"Sir, I am to escort you out of the premises," the manager says.

Her tone makes me laugh uncontrollably. This has to be a fucking prank.

"Diego, let them swipe your card for once. God knows you owe me more than one night out," I bark.

"I…" he starts.

"What the fuck are you stuttering for, man?"

"I have a 2,5K limit on my credit card."

His confession makes me laugh again. This prank is hilarious.

"Dude, that's pocket money for high schoolers. Get your fucking wallet out and pay this chick."

"I'm fucking serious, Cullen," Diego bites.

I rake a hand through my hair, tugging at the roots until I can think again like I'm sober.

The woman glances over her shoulder and nods until two buff dudes appear. One is bald and built like a fucking tank. The other is leaner, but taller, with jet black hair that's tied into a low ponytail.

"Monsieur, venez avec nous, s'il vous plaît."

I grab my stuff, grab my phone, and dial the fuck out of my dad's number.