Our Uber driver drops us off directly in front of one of the hottest, trendiest bars in the whole floating island of Manhattan.

To say it’s notoriously crowded is an understatement. The place is fucking swamped seven nights a week.

Cassie and I frequent this bar fairly often because we have little to no trouble at all getting inside. Every bouncer loves a hot pair of twins, and Cassie and I are of course no exception to that rule.

Cassie blows him a kiss as he unchains the velvet rope, strutting our hips and batting our eyes at him as we breezily swoop past the bouncer. He doesn’t even attempt to act subtle as he ogles at how fucking sexy we look.

“I love your job!” Cassie shrieks as we walk inside.

I toss her a funny look, and she has to correct herself, remembering I’m at a new job now.

The perks of my previous media venture job were great, don’t get me wrong. But I was just an intern there, and I feel like I have more wiggle room and potential to grow at Thebadboys.net, at least financially, because that shit’s lucrative.

Cassie tries to be supportive of me trying new things, and don’t get me wrong…she is, but I know she misses the perks of my old—though looks like they’re still holding up by the way we’re ushered right into the club.

“There’s a booth over there.” Cassie points to the back, and I make a point to scope out the packed area, on the prowl for hot guys who might be glancing my direction.

As we walk to the back, my brain seems to think this is the perfect time to question my own life choices.

I don’t really know why I moved to BadBoys other than the money. I can’t place an accurate finger on it, but I am desperate for change.

I need to constantly be adventurous, never wanting to settle or plateau in a job.

I’m impulsive, always craving the idea of a new conquest or experiencing something new.

I hate the fact that satisfaction doesn’t come cheap for me, but that’s the name of the game, and I’m sure it gets on Cassie’s nerves, although she doesn’t mention it.

Cassie pushes herself inside the booth first, and I scoot in beside her.

“What are you doing?” She tucks her long straight black hair behind her ear and stares at me through her smoky eye shadow.

“What?” I place my clutch bag on the table and pull out my lip gloss to reapply it.

“Ethan is meeting us here,” she mentions.

I sigh dramatically and roll my eyes, set for a tantrum. “Really? We can’t do one thing together as sisters without him butting in?”

“Come on,” she elbows me. “Don’t be mean.”

“You’re the one who’s dragging me out tonight, remember?” I give her a sarcastic grin.

“It won’t be that bad, he’ll blend in.”

“If third wheels can do that sort of thing,” I tease her.

Ethan Ford is the flashy, sometimes overly cocky, owner of an event production company that holds his namesake, Ford Productions.

Oh, and he’s also Cassie’s current boyfriend.

My opinion on the subject is that he’s a little too old for Cassie, but what business is it of mine to dictate who she does or doesn’t date?

He’s a nice enough guy and all, but he’s really not my type.

He has red hair, though it’s more of a dark auburn color, so if he tries to claim himself as a certified ‘ginger,’ well, that shit just isn’t going to happen. He doesn’t fall into that category.

Cassie first met him when she stepped in as a marketing consultant for his company, and the rest was history.

I’m not saying I’m going to peg them as getting married tomorrow or anything, but I can totally picture Cassie one day toting his future kids around in a Suburban to soccer practice.

Let’s just say I have the sneaking suspicion that Cassie is investing more into this relationship than Ethan.

A bar server walks past us, but Cassie swipes him in the nick of time, calling out to him with a snap of her fingers.

I give her a lecturing look. “Stop,” I murmur under my breath.

I mean, she could at least be fucking civil to the guy so he doesn’t spit in our drinks.

I order a cosmopolitan, my signature drink. Cassie orders a mojito and gives me a funny look.

“What?” I shrug.

“You and those damn cosmos. Who the fuck are you, Carrie Bradshaw?”

“I wish,” I snort, chuckling at my ability to quip back at my sister.

Cassie takes a deep breath and scrolls through her news feed on her phone.

“So, how is your work going these days?” I quiz her.

Cassie folds her arms across the table and grins at me with a twinkle gleaming in her eyes. “It’s going fantastic.”

“Yeah?” I ask.

“I’m getting ready to seal a new deal with a construction company, and I’m totally psyched about the whole process. If I land this, I may be up for a huge bonus.”

“Wow, that’s amazing,” I nod and smile politely.

“What about you?” She grins wickedly. “Now that we have some time to talk, I want to know about your chatty sex-capades with the schmoozers of the internet or whoever it is you were talking to.”

I erupt into laughter and glance towards the bar, hoping my alcohol comes soon. I’m not a lush, but I certainly enjoy a light buzz every so often.

“Everything is great.” I nod.

“I should hope so, if I have to peel your hands off the keyboard on a Friday night,” she replies in a playful tone.

“I’m excited for the prospect of where this could lead,” I add.

“Of course.” Cassie nods as if she has any fucking clue what I’m talking about.

“But yeah, all of that aside, work is going great,” I tell my twin.

“That’s great,” she responds. “I’m super stoked for you.”

“Thanks.” I beam, and we clink our water glasses together in a toast to celebrate our mutual yet polar opposite and different employment successes.

Cassie nods then leans back against the booth and whines. “Our drinks still aren’t here yet.”

“I wonder why?” I drone with sarcasm.

“Why?” Cassie gives me a confusing stare as if it’s going right over her fucking head.

“Um, hello?” I point to her thick skull. “You were being a total dick to our server.”

Cassie scoffs. “I was not!”

“Then where the hell are our drinks?” I smirk playfully at her.

“They’re busy, I guess.” Cassie shrugs, refusing to believe that she might be playing any part of the reason why we’re still sitting dry as a bone over here.

“If you want, I can go up to the bar and get them myself,” I volunteer.

“Yes, please!” Cassie perks up.

“Okay.” I roll my eyes and climb from the other side of the booth.

I could use a leg stretch anyway.

I squeeze my way through the bar area, passing by a particularly congested spot where there’s a huge crowd lounging right by the bar.

I stand at the counter and prop my elbows up on top, attempting to make eye contact with the busy bartender.

There’s a guy sitting beside me, who, upon further inspection, appears to be drinking alone.

I study him―subtly, of course―but I’m intrigued.

First of all, he’s like crazy fucking gorgeous.

Second of all, I wonder internally if he’s waiting for his wife or girlfriend. My lips pull into a frown. Because no fucking way is a dude that hot single.

I glance at his left hand.

No ring.

Oh, well, okay then. That gives me fresh hope.

Not that I’m trying to pick up a guy tonight or anything, because I’m totally not.

Maybe, though…if he’s cute and charming enough, like this guy…I mean, a girl needs to have some fun. And I did say tonight could be good for research.

But I’m getting ahead of myself. Of course he’s appealing right now. He hasn’t opened his mouth yet.

He’s sexy as fuck. There’s just no other way around it. He’s got dark hair and earth-shattering blue eyes.

I’ve never seen an eye color so full of depth. It’s like they’re piercing my soul or something, and we haven’t even made eye contact yet.

Then, true to the natural reaction for any normal human who feels as if somebody is staring a hole right fucking through them, he turns around.

He flashes me a beautiful, million-dollar mega-watt smile with perfect white teeth. Of fucking course. I practically swoon as my heart pounds in my chest.

The chemistry between us is instantaneously raw and passionate, simply indescribable.

I try to compose myself by painting a smile across my lips, albeit awkwardly compared to him, I’m sure.

It’s not my fault. In my defense, he’s just too hot for me to fully recover from in time.

I decide to break the ice with a joke. “It sure is hard to get a guy’s attention,” I chuckle, gesturing in the direction of the bartender.

Okay, maybe that’s a little weak, but what-fucking-ever. I’m trying not to blow it, okay? No pun intended.

Hot Guy (yes, that is his official name so far) smiles even wider, apparently entertained by my antics.

“For a woman as pretty as yourself, it can’t be too hard. He just hasn’t seen you yet.”

I actually fucking blush at the compliment and lean on the bar, staring at him like the hopeless romantic that I am.

Things might just get interesting tonight after all.