You Don't Know Me: A Stand-Alone New Adult Romance by Faleena Hopkins Read Free Book Online Page B

was always traveling and working, overseeing the companies. It didn’t leave a lot of time for father/son bonding.” Holding her at arm’s length, I look into her eyes. “Rue. Hey. I get it. It’s a lot for us to take in, too. Before yesterday, we didn’t know who you were! Jack’s going to take some time, and I’m sorry for his…”
    “I know! I know… it must be hard for you guys. It must be! But I just want to slap that smirk right off his fat face.” I laugh and she smiles, her eyes flickering as she sees him approach. I turn around and nod to him.
    With him getting closer, I mutter to her out of the side of my mouth, “You know what you just sounded like?” She shakes her head, wiping her eyes again. “A little sister. Come on.” I put my arm around her and together we walk toward Jack. “Hey Jack. Rue thinks your face is fat.”
    His head goes back like someone hit him and confusion knits his forehead. “What?”
    She reaches out her hand to him, smiling, her cheeks all rosy from the cry, the jacked-up mascara ridiculously charming. “I’m sorry. It’s just a little fat.”
    He’s so knocked over by her smile that he takes her hand and loses the grimace. “Okay. I don’t know what you guys are up to, but I’m pretty sure my face is just fine. Let’s go out.” He doesn’t apologize, but with my arm around her shoulders, and him holding her hand, I’m pretty sure we’re on a good path now.

Chapter Fifteen

Rue
    T he music is so loud I can’t hear myself think. Thank God.
    Club Level is packed, so much so that I now have five different perfumes on me and even some cologne. There are go-go dancers on risers throughout the fog-filled room, and there’s a glass window where an actual live woman lies naked in the case with plants blocking her nudity. She smiles serenely and waves as people pass her. “Move the plants!” guys yell through the glass. She just wags a finger at them like they’re being naughty.
    The bartenders are all stunning. Biceps tightening as drinks are poured. Cleavages dipping down as ice is gathered into pretty glasses. Flashing blue and yellow lights ignite profiles of the club goers who were deemed worthy enough to make it past the bouncer. We went right in, the rope pulled back for us with the bouncer fist-bumping Sean and Jack like they’re old buddies, faces cool and unsmiling.
    “What should I get to drink?” I ask Jack. Sean’s talking to an actress I recognize from the show Chicago Fire, his back to us after she stopped him to say hello.
    Jack smirks. “Oh right, you just turned twenty-one. We have a table, so there’ll be several bottles of vodka, and some whiskey for us. You don’t want to try that. It’ll be too much.”
    I turn to say into his ear, over the noise, “Just because I just turned legal doesn’t mean I’ve never had a drink.” He meets my eyes with a look he should not be giving a sister. I step back, glancing away quickly, uncomfortable. “I’m just saying,” I mutter, flustered, feeling my heart race. He grabs my hand and I gasp as he pulls me suddenly through the throng of people, heading toward the back of the club. I glance hurriedly for Sean, but he doesn’t see us leaving; he’s still locked in conversation with that actress. I almost call out for him, but I’m so shocked and freaked out that I say nothing. Through at least fifty bodies we go, until he steps up into a burgundy, canopied booth and plants me into it with a firm swing of his arm. Bouncing off the seat, I stare up at him, speechless as the edgy lines of his jaw tighten on a challenging smile. He reaches down for one of the four bottles on the table: Bombay Sapphire Gin, Bookers Bourbon, Grey Goose and Chopin Vodka. Pouring a hefty splash of Booker’s into a curvy glass, he hands it to me. “Here you go, Butch.”
    Taking it, I cock my chin a little, realizing now what’s going on. “Oh, you’re bad.”
    His green eyes glitter and he says, dryly,