Hugo's heart felt like it was trying to escape his chest. The club's booming music, flickering neon lights, and the swaying bodies of dancers made it hard to think straight.
His panic only grew as he scanned the dimly lit strip club for an escape route. The air smelled like cheap perfume and sweat, and the bass from the speakers was rattling his brain.
He didn't have time to waste. Jessica was waiting for him outside, and he couldn't risk her leaving—or worse, wandering off with some other guy if the effects of the spiked drink became too much.
Just imagining it made his stomach flip. He clenched his fists, muttering under his breath, "Come on, Hugo, think! You're supposed to be a Casanova now, not some panicked idiot!"
That's when he saw him.
The towering bodyguard with the scorpion tattoo. The guy's muscles looked like they could bench press a small car, and his face was twisted in a permanent scowl.