The Bet by Max Monroe

Sophie

My heart pounds, and the heat of his arm bleeds into the palm of my hand.

I cannot fucking believe he noticed such a subtle difference between Belle and me, and beyond that, remembers it weeks later.

None of the men I’ve ever dated has been able to tell us apart, and this practical stranger knows me for me, down to the fucking freckle on my neck.

I have to tell him.

“What is it?” he asks again when my terror robs me of the ability of speech.

I shake my head to clear it, squeeze his arm, and then pull my hand back like it’s been burned when I feel a jolt of something between us.

I mean, what the hell is it with this guy that turns my body into a live wire?

“I…well, I guess I have a bit of a confession to make. I am Sophie, obviously, and Belle did get married, but at the bachelorette party at Club Craze…I was Belle. I mean, I was pretending to be.” I shrug as his eyes widen. “Yeah, I’m sorry. But she freaked out when we got in there about being the center of attention all night and, well, you dancing for her, so she forced me to pretend to be her.” I wince. “So, yeah. That’s probably why you thought I was Belle…because that night…” I shrug again. “I was.”

“Well, shit.”

I nod and wince again. “I’m sorry. But the whole freckle thing?” I wave a hand in the general vicinity of my throat. “That was pretty impressive. Sometimes my own dad has trouble telling us apart, so really, props to you there.”

He smiles then, shaking his head quickly before turning back to his door and climbing out of the cab. My shoulders fall with defeat as I picture him walking up the block and disappearing around the corner.

I wouldn’t blame the guy. I made him think he was crazy, and then shamed him for being an exotic dancer, and then practically obligated him to take me on a date—

“Oh!” I squeal as my door unexpectedly opens beside me, a wave of cold air rushing in from the busy sidewalk.

Jude leans down into the open door and smiles at me. “Are you coming?”

“I…” I pause, looking him in the eyes. “You’re not mad?”

He chuckles. “Are you kidding? I’m fucking thrilled. I’m not crazy, for one. And for two, now I can scrub the idea that I got a little too flirtatious with a soon-to-be-married woman from my conscience. I’m ecstatic. My family will be relieved. My sister, especially, will be overjoyed with the news.”

I stumble to make sense of everything he’s saying, and my heart kicks up in my chest. “You told your family about me?”

He shrugs. “It’s a little weird, but I assure you it wasn’t in any kind of detail. Very informal conversation, really.”

“You have a sister?” I ask, to which he laughs uproariously. “What?”

“I really love that you’re curious, babe. And I’ll be happy to answer your questions. But, uh, do you think maybe you want to let this nice guy pick up another fare while we go inside the bar?”

Whoops. Way to go, Soph.

My cheeks heat with embarrassment, but Jude doesn’t say anything else. Rather, he reaches down with his hand to take my own, helps me from the taxi, and walks me inside.

The lighting is low, but the ambiance is high. The furniture is all carefully selected to look appropriately from the twenties, and all the barstools but two are taken. I’m impressed that they manage to pull this many people into a location that’s not obvious, but apparently, I’m one of the only people in New York who hasn’t gotten with the secret.

“This place is amazing,” I say, already envisioning half a dozen different events I could utilize the space for. “Do you know if they do private events?”

Jude laughs, turning to me and stopping so abruptly that I actually run into his side. It’s awkward, but his smile is enough to disarm me from completely crumbling. “I’m sorry, but are you working or dating right now?”

I shrug as the corner of my mouth curls up. “I’m self-employed, baby. No matter what else is happening, I’m always working.”

He chuckles, nodding with understanding and turning back to walk toward the bar again, taking my hand in his. It’s such a simple and fanfareless gesture, and yet, my whole nervous system is acting like it did not get the memo.

Geez, chill. He’s just holding your hand.

“I admire your work ethic, Sophie. Now, I have an assumption, but I still feel like it’s always best to ask… What is it that you do for a living?”

I smile proudly. “I have an event planning business. Sophie Sage Events. My company actually planned my sister’s bachelorette party and wedding.”

He smiles as he carves out a spot at the bar for us, pretty effortlessly getting another couple to scoot down a bit so that we can sit together and seeing that I get seated on my stool before taking his own spot on his.

I pull his jackets off my shoulders, and he takes them both before I can even question what to do with them, snaps his fingers at someone at the front, and then, voilà! The jackets are gone.

“Does that guy work here, or is that your idea of charity work?” I can’t help but tease as Jude turns back to face the bar.

As expected, he takes it good-naturedly. “Robbie’s been here a few years, and he knows me. He’ll label those as mine and put them in the coat check.”

I hum. “So, you know a lot of people in this city, don’t you?”

His smile is bright and damn near hypnotizing, it’s so sexy. “I do.”

“Interesting.”

“That’s me,” he agrees. “Interesting.”

I roll my eyes with a snort.

“What? You don’t believe me?” He narrows his eyes playfully. “A dancer can’t know people?”

I shake my head and open my mouth to apologize for being rude when the bartender stops in front of us. “Hey, Jude,” he says first, reaching across the bar to give my unplanned date a fist bump. Jude turns to me and waggles his eyebrows, and I have to laugh.

“Hey, Gavin. I’ll have my usual, and Sophie will have…”

My teeth are the most prominent feature of my mouth as I try to look amicable while not having a freaking clue what to order. Gavin and Jude both have the good manners to ignore just how odd it is.

“Not sure what to get?” Jude asks sweetly, and I shake my head. “Mind if I choose something for you?”

“Please,” I agree with relief.

“Bring her the same as me,” he says to Gavin, to which the friendly bartender replies, “You got it,” with a nod and a smile.

Once he’s retreated from in front of us, I venture, “So…what drink am I getting? You never said what your usual is.”

“An old-fashioned,” Jude answers. “You can’t do a speakeasy without having an old-fashioned.”

I nod. “Makes sense.”

Once Gavin returns with our drinks, we spend the next half hour chatting about mostly nothing but laughing quite a bit along the way. Jude’s attitude is seriously pleasant, and as far as I can tell, it’s not an act at all.

He genuinely seems to be the kind of guy who grins all day long.

“So, what other secret tricks do you know in this city?” I ask, finishing the last of my old-fashioned, which has turned out to be surprisingly tasty for someone like me who doesn’t drink a whole lot. “Are you in a gang? Do you have a secret lair?” I narrow my eyes. “Are you Batman?”

Jude shakes his head, his throat rolling deliciously with humor at the same time. “No lair of my own. But…” he hedges, leaning closer to me. “I do know of another, even more clandestine part of New York that branches off of this place. Do you want to see it?”

“Are you kidding? Is that a real question?”

Climbing up and off his stool, he holds out his hand for mine. “Come with me.”

I follow, obviously, because he hasn’t let me down tonight so far, and because… Well, frankly, I can’t even imagine ending the night right now. Maybe Dr. Winters was right about not prejudging people—because Jude, the Magic Dancer is a hell of a lot of fun.

Back through the front of the bar, we turn down a dark hallway where only a bright exit sign illuminates the space at the end.

My heart picks up its pace, a lifetime of survival instincts screaming at me that going down a dark hallway with a stranger isn’t a great idea, but for all the doubts I have, my legs keep moving.

I’m too invested. Plus, people here obviously know Jude, and they seem to like him. I know nothing is absolute, but I feel like the risk factor is at least a modicum lower than it could be.

I squeeze tight on to his hand as we approach the door, and he bangs on it one time with a loud, unmistakable blow.

It takes a few seconds, but when it swings open, a big, muscled guy and a velvet curtain block the view of what lies beyond.

“Jude,” the bouncer-type guy says, his smile blindingly white and authentic.

“Do you know everyone in New York?” I ask sarcastically into Jude’s ear.

He turns back toward me, whispering cheekily, “Not everyone. I didn’t know you.”

“Hey, Jimmy,” Jude says then, greeting the bouncer with yet another fist bump. “Okay if we go inside?”

“Sure thing,” the man replies, pulling the curtain back for us.

And I have to admit, for as secretive as I knew this place was going to be, I’m still surprised when I get a look at what it actually is.

It’s dark and pulsing and immediately ripe with sexiness. It’s the kind of place that makes your stomach heavy and your knees weak, just by walking inside.

Couples litter the deep-cushioned sofas along the walls, their bodies intertwined with each other like ivy vines. They don’t know of anyone else’s existence but themselves and their partners, and it’s the same for each and every set of them.

Okay. This is the super-sexy secret part of this club, and by God, I don’t know if I’m fully prepared for it.

My heart knocks in my chest, thumping like a speeding train on an old set of tracks. Jude takes my hand in his, his grip sound and steadying, and pulls me toward the other side of the room where neon-trimmed windows feature scantily clad women dancing to the beat of the pulsing music.

I watch them closely, trying to tap into the tiny, minute part of myself that enjoys the unexpected. It’s not huge, but it does exist. I mean, I’m not a total prude.

I tighten my fingers around Jude’s hand reflexively when the woman in the center window looks directly at me and licks her lips, and he responds by pulling me closer to him with a gentle tug, and places a comforting arm around my hip as we continue to walk.

I don’t know what it is about him that makes me feel like he’s my ground wire, but for all I know, in this situation, it could just be that he’s familiar.

He walks us to the bar, squeezing my hip before releasing it, and orders us a couple of drinks. And the bartender smiles at him knowingly, as though this is far from his first time in this place, too.

I spin around to take in the room again, completely unable to quench my curiosity.

Jude’s lips skim the side of my neck as he leans in to whisper in my ear. “You okay?”

I swallow hard as I nod. I am. Really. I’m nervous as hell, but I have to admit, I’m also kind of enjoying it. This is so far out of my normal, I almost feel like I’m having an out-of-body experience.

“Good.”

Unexpectedly, he kisses the skin directly under my ear, grazing the flesh with the very tip of his tongue. I shiver, and my abdomen pulsates with the heaviness of arousal.

I swear, I’m close enough to coming without any actual stimulation again that I almost throw myself on the ground.

What is it about him that sends me right over the cliff so quickly?

“Come on,” he prompts, lifting two drinks that he’s procured for us in the air. “Let’s go sit down.”

I follow him dutifully, unwilling to stay here alone with all that’s going on around us, and slide into a deep, plush, velvet-covered sofa in the corner. Jude follows, setting our drinks on the table in front of us, and leans back to hook his arm over the back of the couch, somewhat around my shoulders.

I shiver again, and this time, he notices.

“Are you cold?”

I shake my head. The truth is, I’m anything but. I’m on fucking fire.