ADRIAN

The car pulled into the compound and stopped in front of the mansion. I alighted, ignoring the guards who stood in line to greet me, and walked straight inside. In the sitting room, the maids halted their activities to greet me, but I brushed past them, climbing the stairs to the floor where the bedrooms were. I walked down the hallway to the master bedroom, unlocked the door, and stepped inside. Striding to the bathroom, I tossed my suit jacket into the laundry basket and began undressing. Once finished, I deposited the rest of my clothes in the basket and stepped into the shower. After washing up, I stepped out, dried off with a towel, and wrapped another around my waist.

I moved to the vanity, grabbed my body lotion, and rubbed it all over. Once done, I went to the closet and dressed in a dark brown leather jacket and fitted jeans, finishing the look with brown cowboy boots. After styling my hair and spritzing on some cologne, I checked myself in the mirror—ready to go. Just as I debated whether to call Manuel for the club address, my phone rang. His name flashed on the screen.

“Hey, Ad!” Manuel’s overly cheerful voice blasted through, making me wince.

“Hey, Manuel. Are you trying to burst my eardrums? And I’ve told you countless times, my name is Adrian, not Ad. Call me that again, and I’ll make sure you won’t be able to talk for the rest of your life.” My tone was sharp, but he just laughed.

“Oh, Ad, you can’t do that. You love me. Besides, your name is way too hard for me to say. ‘Ad’ is just easier—and you know my life’s mission is to annoy you.” He teased, and I couldn’t help but agree. Frustrating me was practically his hobby, and there was no changing that.

“Whatever. I’m ready. Will you send me the club address, or are you coming to meet me here?”

“I’ll come over. That way, we can head there in your new fancy car,” he replied, sounding pleased.

“Did you forget you have more fancy cars than I do?”

“You know I prefer using your stuff over mine, Adrian,” he said, and it was true. Manuel and I could buy the same thing, yet he’d always want mine, claiming it was better or that his own was somehow defective.

“Enough of this pointless conversation. Be here in fifteen minutes. If you’re late, don’t expect me to come to the club,” I warned.

“Okay, Sir Ad! I’ll be there soon,” he laughed, hanging up. Truthfully, Manuel could get here in much less than fifteen minutes—we lived close by. But I’d set the time to make it seem like he had to work for it.

Downstairs, I ordered a maid to bring me some apples, and she quickly returned with a bowl. I was biting into the fourth apple when Manuel barged in. I paused momentarily, then resumed eating as if he wasn’t there. He looked increasingly impatient, tapping his foot on the floor.

“Are you done yet?” he asked, visibly annoyed.

“Yeah, I’m done. You got here faster than expected.” I smirked.

“Whatever. Are you ready, or have you changed your mind?” he replied, slightly exasperated.

“I’m ready. Or should we go another day?” I teased, watching his expression.

“No, no! Let’s go now.”

I stood, smoothing my clothes, and Manuel followed suit. I told a maid to clear the table as we headed out. Brandon was waiting outside, standing beside the car.

“Which car are we taking, boss?” Brandon asked.

“The sports car,” I replied.

“Which one?”

“The red one, of course.”

Brandon unlocked the car, and Manuel and I settled in the backseat while he took the wheel. As we drove off, I took out my phone and started scrolling through social media. A few minutes later, the car stopped, and I looked up at the building in front of us. The signboard reading VALLEYVIEW CLUBHOUSE glowed brightly. The exterior was impressive, making me curious about the interior. We got out and approached the entrance, where a bouncer checked our IDs before letting us in.

Inside, the first thing I noticed was the main stage, where strippers were dancing in lingerie that left little to the imagination. I was so captivated by the performance that I didn’t notice a bartender standing before us until Manuel tapped my shoulder.

“Good evening, sirs. I’ll be leading you to the VIP section. This way, please,” she said politely. We followed her to the VIP area, where a smaller stage was set up. Strippers were dancing here too, moving to slow, sensual music, though the section was less crowded. The bartender led us to a table.

“Your waitresses for the night will be with you shortly,” she informed us before leaving.

“How do you like the club so far?” Manuel asked casually.

“It’s nice,” I mumbled.

“It’s more than nice. I can tell from your face that you love it,” he teased.

“Yeah, it’s been good so far,” I admitted, turning my attention to the dancers. Four of them approached our table—two for me, and two for Manuel. A redhead straddled me, giving me a lap dance, while the brunette beside her ran her hands over me. I was losing myself in the moment when a familiar voice snapped me out of it.

“Good evening, sir. I’m Brianna. What would you like to have?” Startled, I looked up to see that the bartender was my new personal assistant. Her eyes widened in recognition.

“What are you doing here, Mr. Adrian?” she asked, glancing briefly at the girls on my lap before looking back at me.

“Is that even a question? I’m here to have fun, obviously,” I replied curtly.

“Wow! I never pegged you as someone who makes time for fun,” she said, raising an eyebrow.

“Whatever. Are you taking my order or not?”

“Oh! What would you like?” she asked.

“What’s the most expensive drink here?”

“We have Mendis Coconut Brandy, Diva Vodka, and Russo-Baltique Vodka,” she listed.

“Which is the priciest?”

“Russo-Baltique Vodka,” she replied.

“Fine. Bring me two bottles of that, and give everyone in the VIP section a bottle each,” I said.

“Wow, Mr. Adrian. So generous,” she smirked, clearly teasing me.

“Just go get the drinks—and don’t think I’ve forgotten that you didn’t return to the office,” I warned.

“Don’t worry, sir. We’ll deal with that tomorrow,” she replied, turning away to fetch the drinks. I’d figure out a punishment later. She returned a few minutes later, set the bottles on the table, and poured drinks for Manuel and me, before heading off to serve the rest.

“Wasn’t that the lady who kicked you the other day? Your new assistant?” Manuel asked.

“She’s the one,” I answered flatly.

“What’s she doing here?”

“Clearly, she works here,” I snapped, rolling my eyes.

“Oh.” He took a sip of his drink, and I followed suit, feeling the satisfying burn. This was exactly what I needed: a night of drinking and girls. The strippers continued with me as I enjoyed my drink.

I noticed Brianna returning with a basket of drinks for the others in the VIP area. She must have mentioned that I’d bought the rounds, as I heard people murmuring “Thank you, sir,” and “Thanks for the drink.” It felt good to hear the appreciation. After two to three hours of drinking and watching the dancers, I called Brianna over to settle the bill. She calculated it to be twenty thousand dollars. I handed her my credit card, and she returned it shortly after.

“Manuel, it’s time to go,” I said, eyeing him. He was already drunk.

“No, let’s wait a bit. I haven’t had enough fun,” he slurred.

“No, it’s time to go,” I insisted, standing up and brushing off the dancers. They looked disappointed, but a sharp glare sent them scurrying away. I helped Manuel up, draping his arm over my shoulder as we headed out.

“Mr. Adrian, leaving already?” Brianna asked as she saw us leaving.

“No, I plan to sleep here tonight,” I retorted sarcastically.

“It was just a question. No need to be cranky,” she snapped back.

“Are you ready to lose your job? Because with that attitude, it seems like you don’t want it anymore.”

“You don’t have to threaten my job every time I say something you don’t like,” she replied firmly.

“I don’t have time for this. Just don’t forget we have unfinished business tomorrow about why you didn’t come back to the office,” I said, leaving the club.

In the parking lot, Brandon hurried over to take Manuel from me, easing the weight off my shoulders. He helped Manuel into the backseat, and I got into the passenger seat. Brandon started the car and drove off.

Throughout the ride, I endured Manuel’s terrible singing. He butchered every song, and combined with his awful voice, it made the ride miserable. When we finally arrived at the mansion, I instructed Brandon to take Manuel to the guest bedroom. I went up to my room, already planning ways to handle my troublesome assistant tomorrow.