Ned pushed open a heavy door, revealing an oppressively luxurious private booth so large it took one's breath away. Three walls were lined with opulent French-style sofas. The moment Sophie stepped in, her eyes landed on Archibald, who was lounging in the center with a woman on each arm—both dressed in provocative outfits, stunningly beautiful, laughing and drinking with him.
"Whoa, whoa, Ned, that's against the rules!" Archibald's expression was priceless the instant he saw Sophie. He never imagined his good brother Ned would break their sacred pact: "Never bring girlfriends or wives to the club."
"Are we clearing the room or what?" He threw up his hands dramatically. "Say something, man! You've got the rest of us hanging here—it's awkward as hell." The question was cleverly loaded.
Then he turned to Sophie with a smirk: "We only have real alcohol in here! No 0% cocktails, no soda, no milk, no mineral water—nothing."
