Home to Me (The Andrades, Book 2) Read Online Free Page B

and wild. Who wants to be first in line, when second has all the fun with none of the responsibility? For a long time he’d lived by that philosophy, but something had clicked within him when he’d been with his brothers on Isola Santos, the island of his ancestors. He’d stood there with generations of his family, many of whom had built successful financial empires or birthed football teams’ worth of new Andrades, and felt ashamed of the path he’d chosen. At the wedding reception, his uncles had spoken of family members who had passed—his own father in particular. They’d told stories of how each generation of Andrade worked hard to make sure the next was taken care of, and how proud Gio Sr. must be when he looked down on his sons.
    Proud of me? I don’t think so.
    I’ve done nothing with my life.
    That realization had given way to another one: And I won’t if I keep drinking.
    He hadn’t touched a drop of alcohol since.
    The woman moved to stand in front of him and said, “I know how to cheer you up.” She leaned down, placing her hands on both of his shoulders, and hovered her lips just above his. “Remember that night at Siviti’s?”
    He did, but the memory didn’t move him or his cock. He took her hands in his and stood. “It’s been a long day, Melissa. You should—”
    Her face went red and she pulled her hands from his. “My name isn’t Melissa.”
    Fuck.
    “Like I said—long day. I came here to clear my head.”
    She stood before him angrily and stared up at him, refusing to let him off the hook until he remembered her name. He tried, but the times they had spent together had always been after he’d given himself over to a substantial buzz.
    If she’d ever said her name, he hadn’t heard it.
    And it had never mattered until just then. I think it starts with an M . . .
    “Michelle . . .”
    “Megan,” the woman hissed. “My name is Megan .” She reached down, picked up her drink, and threw it at the front of his pants.
    Nick jumped back, but it was too late. The vodka darkened a large circle around his crotch and spread down one leg. He grabbed a napkin from the table and wiped as much off as he could. “Why the fuck would you do that?”
    Megan stood angrily in front of him. “Maybe now you’ll remember me.”
    Shaking his head, Nick said coldly, “Get out.”
    With a snarl, Megan said, “You used to be fun. No wonder you’re alone tonight. You’ve been a real drag lately.”
    Nick merely raised one eyebrow, then looked at the stairs leading back down to the club. His meaning was clear.
    Megan’s beauty diminished as her features twisted. “What a waste of time. I should have slept with Harry instead of you. At least I could have said I fucked a prince.”
    After she left, Nick looked down at his pants and swore. The damp area was much darker than the rest of his pants. If she’d poured it on any other part of his body he would have walked out of the club and gone back to his hotel room to change, but photo hounds would love a picture of him looking like he pissed himself. He took out his cell phone, called downstairs, and spoke to the club owner. “Do you have a spare pair of pants down there?”
    “Should I ask why?” Serge joked.
    Nick wasn’t in the mood to tell Serge, but not because he thought it would surprise him. Nothing shocked Serge. He often said Nick reminded him of himself when he was younger, back before he’d created Skal. There were worse people Nick could imagine himself becoming. Serge was well known for owning a successful club that was packed every night with regulars drawn from the global Who’s Who list.
    And when Nick was in town, he was one of them.
    “A spilled drink. Nothing big, but I do need a change of pants or the use of your dryer downstairs.”
    “I’ll send someone up for your clothes. I can’t have you in the kitchen half dressed or my staff will get nothing done.”
    “Thanks.” There was a time when Nick’s popularity with