Читать книгу Heiress Recon - Carla Cassidy - Страница 5

The music in the club pulsed inside Brianna Waverly as she made her way toward the bar. Following close at her heels was her bodyguard, Curt McCain. The man was as big as a house, making her feel even more diminutive than her five-foot height.

As she threaded her way through the throng of people her name was called from here and there. “Bree! Over here!”

She turned to see one of Hollywood’s up-and-coming actresses waving wildly at her. She grinned and waved back but continued her trek forward.

Curt hated the nights she decided to go clubbing, complaining that it was difficult to discern between normal Hollywood types and freaks. But the people she met in the clubs were the same she’d talk to later about making a donation to her animal shelter in Kansas City. Networking was nothing if not a fine art, and Bree had made something of a living at it.

The bartender grinned at her as she reached him. “The usual?” he asked.

She nodded. The usual was a club soda with a twist of lime. While most of the others around her got drunk and stupid, Bree stayed clearheaded and smart.

Curt stood several feet away from her, the glare on his bulldog face enough to keep any sane person away. She’d told him a million times that he took the job too seriously. Mostly she needed him to navigate her through a crowd of eager paparazzi bent on getting a photo of heiress and party girl Bree Waverly.

With drink in hand, Bree turned and surveyed the scene. Everyone who was anyone eventually wound up at Oscar’s at the end of a long night of partying. The club was the newest, hottest scene in Hollywood.

Lights flashed and swirled on the dance floor, splashing the gyrating bodies with vivid color. She took a sip of her drink and tried to find the joy, the heart-pounding excitement that used to possess her whenever she entered one of these places. But the joy wasn’t there. Lately, nothing in Hollywood made her happy.

She’d just as soon be back in her villa, wearing her nightgown and working on the last of the details for the upcoming adoption day at the Kansas City shelter.

A scream from behind pulled Brianna from her thoughts. Before she could turn around to see the cause, Curt yelled her name and threw himself at her. She crashed backward and down, vaguely aware of people screaming. As her head connected with the floor, she saw the spinning lights of the dance floor inside her brain—then nothing.