Shit.

"Hey, Victoria."

Juliette tries to wriggle her hand out of mine, but I hold her tightly until she stills. I pull her in a little closer to me.

Victoria struts up to us. That's the only way she moves. She either struts, stalks or strides with those long legs of hers. When we were in high school, I thought it was kind of sexy, but now it doesn't even faze me. Doesn't turn me on, at all. She stands in front of me and leans up to kiss my cheek.

"You two looked so cute inside Babylon, standing up in the VIP," she purrs, turning to Juliette and extending her hand. "I'm Victoria. A good friend of Griffin's."

By her tone, I can tell she's jealous of Juliette. Which maybe is understandable considering what we did in her mom's apartment the other day — well, how she did me that day — but I thought we had an understanding. A business relationship. One with benefits that include the occasional blowjob.

"This is Juliette. You remember her—she's Ashton Phillips' sister." I almost said the words little sister, and am glad I didn't, because Juliette's staring at the ground, obviously uncomfortable. She raises her eyes. "Juliette, do you remember Victoria?"

She smiles when I say her name, and something about her expression makes me feel uncharacteristically soft inside. This has been happening off and on all night and it's fucking strange.

"Hi Vicki. You were friends with my brother."

"Little Juliette Phillips. I remember when you were playing with Barbie dolls. God, that wasn't that long ago, was it?" Victoria smirks and turns to me. "You left something at my house," she says, putting her hand flat on my chest, even though I'm holding Juliette's hand.

I frown. I never leave anything behind, anywhere. Christ. I hate for Juliette to witness any of this. It was bad enough with all those bouncers asking me if I was moving any Molly tonight. Those days of street dealing are over for me, but people still ask and plead. "What did I leave?"

"Text me later and I'll tell you. I'll let you two get on with your date. And I'll see you at your party next weekend. If not before." She cackles and turns to walk back into the club.

I roll my eyes and tug Juliette in the opposite direction, toward The Carlisle. It's only a block away.

"I can't wait to tell Ash that I saw you and Victoria."

I clear my throat as a hotel worker pulls the door open for us. "You know, maybe you shouldn't do that."

Hopefully the lavish, Art Deco hotel lobby will distract her from continuing this conversation.

"Why? And why did you two stop talking, anyway? You used to be inseparable."

No such luck. I glance at her gorgeous face and grin. "How about I answer that after we sit down?"

She gives me a little nod and I bring her to the smaller of the two restaurants in the bottom floor of the hotel. I've known the host for years, ever since I started doing business on the beach.

"Griffin Davis, my man," the host says, with a giant smile. "Good to see you. We've set aside the best table for you. Right this way."

Juliette's eyes are enormous as we walk through Cochon, the swank, low-lit restaurant that specializes in unhealthy and delicious Southern food. A popular actress is seated in one corner, a singer for a rock band's in another, and a club promoter I know is sitting at the bar. We point at each other.

Juliette and I are led to a secluded and small back booth, done up in black leather. It's shaped like a C, which is good because it will probably force us to sit close.

Then again, given the question she just asked, maybe that's not such a good thing.

Juliette slides into the booth and I follow. I expect her to chatter and ask more questions, but instead she sips her water and smiles cryptically. For someone so young, she's very poised. Scarily so. There's an elegance about her that's almost intimidating.

While she studies the menu—I already know what I want, the overpriced pastrami sandwich—I study her. When I saw her in line at Babylon, I wasn't going to say anything. I was going to head up to my VIP suite and make some connections. Possibly pick out a girl to fuck for the night.

But when I saw Juliette in her red dress, I was drawn to her like a magnet. Like I am right now. She flashes me a little grin. Does she know I want to rip off that dress of hers?

What the hell am I doing, spending a Saturday with a high school girl? With Ashton Phillips' sister, at that?

He would kick my ass if he knew. Or call the police. This is pretty fucking risky, but since nothing dirty has happened — yet — I think I'm safe. If I can just keep my dick in my pants for the next couple of hours, I'm golden. I can do that.

"I'll have the chicken skewers," she says.

"That's all? That's an appetizer. There's only two, and they're small. So if you're hungry, you should order something else," I tell her.

She licks her lips and I move a few inches closer to her.

"Hmm. Everything is so expensive," she murmurs.

Is she serious? I lean into her. "You can get anything you want."

She nods. "Chicken and waffles."

"Good choice."

We order from the waiter and then eye each other. She must feel the sexual tension between us. How could she not? Is she even eighteen? I need to find a tactful way to ask, because if she's not, then I need to do some soul-searching.

"So, what were you going to tell me about my brother?" Her eyes are unblinking, challenging me for an honest answer.

I try to flirt by grinning. That usually disarms women. My eyes skip to her mouth, and then to her tits. I can't help it. She's too curvy and gorgeous. I think about sliding those little straps off her shoulders and wonder if she's even wearing a bra. My cock twitches at the idea. "What was the question?"

"Why did you and my brother stop talking? The last time I saw you, you were, what, sixteen? The beginning of your junior year?"

Damn, she's not affected by my smile. "Yep. And how old were you?"

"Hmm. My birthday's in June, so I would have been nine. I remember you were at my birthday party with my brother, and I remember what I wished for."

I do the math. Jesus Christ, she's seventeen. I've been lusting after a girl. Grinding against her while dancing. Wanting to kiss her so bad that my lips tingle. This is so fucking wrong, this whole night. I'm no saint, but I do have some morals and rules. A few. Okay, one.

I glance at her. "What did you wish for?"

"You know. Because I told you. You said it in the restaurant the other day." She grins and it's as if she's emitting pure sunshine to break up all the gray clouds in my mind. "I said I wanted to marry you. I had such a crush on you. A little girl thing."

She looks at her napkin, her cheeks getting pink, the continues. "I guess I always had good taste." Then she laughs and I do, too. Most people I know can't laugh at themselves, me included. It takes a brave person to do that.

"You know what I remember about you?"

Her green eyes sparkle. "What?"

"That I gave you a copy of The Hobbit. You were about ten. Actually, I had it on your kitchen table and you snagged it to read."

"I still have that book. I love all of Tolkien's stuff. The Hobbit is still my favorite, though. It's vivid language, elegant and magical."

Her whole face is lit up as she talks, and a warm feeling spreads in my chest. Normally I don't talk about books with anyone. It's a side of me that I keep hidden. "Same here. I was pretty obsessed with the movies, but I still love the books more."

"How about Game of Thrones? Did you read that or see the show?"

I groan. "I did. Love both."

"Me too. Jon and Daenerys. So wrong."

"Yet so right," I say in a deep, gravelly voice, and she cracks up. We both pause and stare into each other's eyes for a few long seconds. She bites her lip and casts a glance down to the table.

Fuck, I can't stop staring at her. When she glances up, into my eyes, I swear my dick hardens even more. I slip my napkin off the table and onto my lap, just in case. I don't want her — a girl — seeing that she affects me this way. I think there's a law against this.

"So what did happen with you and my brother? One day Ash came home and said he wasn't ever talking to you again. My mom asked him why, and he refused to say. But that was also the time when he became pretty politically active, so, who knows?" She shrugs. "He's been so weird lately. Really self-righteous."

"Yeah, we just...had a falling out. Went different ways, hung around different crowds."

How do I tell a seventeen-year-old that her brother stopped talking to me when I started selling drugs? Sure, I could tell some seventeen-year-olds. But Juliette seems pretty sheltered and innocent. It's best if I don't get into it tonight. Or ever.

"If I remember right, you had a lot going on that previous year, too. I just wish my brother had been there for you."

Her words are like a kick to the stomach and my dick deflates. "I didn't know you were aware of everything."

She nods, and her eyes are big and watery. "I'm sorry. I never got a chance to tell you how sorry I was about your mom dying. And about your dad, going away to... well, you know. I was too little to really understand everything back then."

"Don't apologize. It was just one of many fucked up things that happened to me in Kendall."

"How's your dad? Your sister?" She claps her hand over her mouth, then lets it slip into her lap. "I'm asking too many questions. I'm sorry."

I frown. Few know about this part of my past. And if they do, no one dares say a word. "Actually, I kind of like that you're asking questions. I haven't talked about any of this in a long time, with anyone."

"Not Victoria?"

"No. She's trying to escape the past and her life in the suburbs just as much as I am."

Juliette nods.

"My dad's still in federal lockup. He's got five more years. A judge threw out one of his charges of mortgage fraud on appeal, so I guess that's good news." A snort escapes my mouth.

She sucks in a breath. I've said too much but now that I'm talking, I'm really going all out. "My sister's good. She graduated from UF in December and she's living with me."

Just then, the waiter brings the food. As I tuck in, I realize I'm sweating from the conversation. In a half hour, a teen girl has sent me, one of Miami's biggest drug dealers, from stark lust into a cold sweat.

And I wouldn't trade those thirty minutes for the world. Because there's something exciting about sitting next to Juliette as we eat. Something normal and fun. Comfortable, even. Challenging and definitely sexy.

I can't let myself dwell on the sexy. Or the comfortable. No fucking way.

"How many more weeks of school do you have?" I ask, reminding myself for the millionth time that she's in high school and therefore disqualified from slipping between the sheets of my bed tonight.

"Three and a half weeks until senior days in Orlando. We're going to two theme parks. It's also my eighteenth birthday that weekend." Do I detect a dramatic pause, or is that just my horny imagination? "A few days after that is graduation."

"The best week ever." I take a bite of my sandwich, thinking about the week I graduated. On a Saturday I got my diploma, and that night, I sold ten grand worth of molly in a club.

Yeah, I grew up fast. Too fast for this girl.

She tells me about her plans for college—the irony of her getting a pharmaceutical degree isn't lost on me—and I'm proud of her for having a plan.

"I had no clue what I wanted when I graduated," I say. All I'd wanted was to make money and take care of my sister. The rest—college, girls, parties—was incidental.

"Seems like you've done pretty well regardless."

I nod. Better than I ever dreamed.

"What is your job, anyway? Where did you go to school? My brother didn't ever talk about you after you guys stopped being friends."

That's because he was pissed at me for doing something he thought was immoral. And maybe it was. But I thought it was more immoral for me and my sister to go into the foster care system after my dad went to prison. So I took matters into my own hands by selling a few pink, green and yellow pills starting in my junior year.

"I'm in the import-export business," I say briskly, wiping my mouth with my napkin. It's the stock answer I give to people who don't need to know my reality. "And I'm branching out into buying some chain restaurant franchises."

Which is the truth. I am, if only to launder money. And someday, I'll be a hundred percent legit. I don't want to sell drugs forever.

"I went to University of Miami." Which is where I expanded my business before I dropped out...

"I'm thinking about transferring there once I do two years at Miami-Dade Community College. If I can afford to. I'll probably have to take out a ton of loans." She rolls her eyes.

The waiter brings the check and as I'm paying in cash I entertain a brief fantasy of paying her college tuition. How much could two years of community college cost? God knows I've probably spent way more over the years on champagne and tips at strip clubs.

"Let's head to Kendall." I need to bring her back, because I feel my willpower crumbling.

She's mostly quiet on the walk to the car, and on the drive to the suburbs. I don't speed. I'm hoping for traffic, so I can spend precious minutes inhaling the flower-vanilla scent radiating from her skin. But the roads are clear so it's only twenty minutes.

A porn-loop of her jerking me off in the car runs through my mind. I clear my throat.

"I have a secret," she says as we get off the expressway.

"Oh yeah?" Me too, baby girl. I can't help but sneak another glance at her bare legs. She's so pretty it makes me ache all over. I really want to taste her mouth — and other places — but the word seventeen keeps flashing in my brain.

"I'm staying at Allison's." She tells me the address. "My mom thinks we're studying. Her mom's working until the morning."

I entertain a fantasy of making out with her on a sofa in the dark, my hand slipping under her panties. Then I reel the thoughts in, reminding myself that it would let loose a river of problems. A fucking tsunami of shit. And in my business, the fewer problems, the better.

"Does your brother know you're out?" I try to sound stern, like an older, concerned uncle.

"Nope. I don't know how he'd feel about it or if he'd tell Mom. He'd probably be okay with it if I was out organizing a march in favor of medical marijuana or whales or something. He's not much into the club scene. So I'm not going to say anything."

Thank God for that. I was going to suggest she not tell her brother about hanging out with me, but now I don't have to.

We pull up in front of an apartment building—kind of like Vee's place, only salmon-colored instead of dove gray—and I kill the Porsche's engine. I walk around to her side and open the door.

"I had an amazing night. I feel like Cinderella or something." She slides out of the car and rolls her eyes. "That's stupid, isn't it?"

"No, it isn't," I say softly. Part of me is hoping she'll ask me inside, so I can put my arms around her. Kiss her. Run my hands through her long, dark hair and fuck her until dawn. The other part of me knows tonight needed to end about an hour ago.

"Thank you, Griffin." She licks her pillowy lips and I want to groan. My cock twitches at the sight of her wet lips. If I kiss her, I'll be instantly rock hard.

Who the fuck am I kidding? I'm rock hard now, thinking about her, on her knees. Maybe I could go inside with her for a few minutes.

Hell no. That's a five-year prison sentence. Don't kiss her. Do. Not. Kiss. Her.

I see the disappointment in her eyes when I don't move a muscle. It's ripping my heart out, not hauling her against me. A Herculean amount of strength. "You're welcome."

"Well, see you around." We're standing in the parking lot, and she's looking at me with a mischievous twinkle in her eye. "Or maybe I could come to your party next week? Are you going to invite me?"

____