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Closer up, I could see the tiny red thong that hugged her pussy. Desire, that’s what they said her stage name was. Fair play, they got that right.
My heart pounded inside my chest, and my hands itched to reach for her as arousal simmered in my bloodstream. Her curves were unreal. She spun, thrusting out a peachy arse that I could sink my teeth into, and a tattoo across the base of her back caught my eye. It was a hummingbird surrounded by roses. Hummingbird – that suited her: beautiful, flighty, exotic.
After a few songs, the tempo of the music changed, and it stirred me from the stupor I’d fallen into. Had she hypnotised me? I was standing in the open without awareness. My men were around me, but it was a dangerous move for someone in my position.
I reluctantly sat back into the booth, reclining and briefly scanning for threats. It would be too late by now, you melter. I chastised myself.
“Are we done, Boss?” Loch asked as he placed down his empty drink. “There’s a private room next door.”
He didn’t call me boss very often. We were brothers in most senses, but he used the term tonight to remind me my tongue was hanging out. I shot him another scathing look, but he smirked. Someone had cheered up significantly.
“You know I don’t shite where I eat,” I replied, despite the fact the frightening depth of my reaction to her made me a liar.
“You’re just dribbling all over the floor instead?”
Someone was enjoying this far too much.
I raised an eyebrow. “You’ll regret that tomorrow in the ring.”
“It’s worth it just to see you show some emotion.”
I tore my eyes from Desire. “That’s rich coming from ‘the Butcher’.”
My men called Loch the Butcher owing to his penchant for cutting up his victims during torture and the fact he hung them from a hook like a piece of meat. Bound-to-a-chair was okay for me, but we all had our thing. The big bastard used to only have two modes: psycho and stoic. Typically, his shite talk only came out in the fighting pit. Since he got all wifed up, his annoying side from our childhood had re-emerged.
“I’m just saying maybe it’s time you blew off a little steam. We’ve been up the arse of this Stefanov bullshit for nearly a year. When was the last time you got laid?”
“Jesus fucking Christ, is this an intervention?”
“Feck off. I’m just saying. Bang the stripper, and let’s move on.”
“Don’t fucking call her that,” I barked.
She wasn’t some piece of pussy to fuck.
Loch raised his eyebrow to his non-existent hairline. “She is a stripper. We are in a strip club. One that you own,” he reminded me.
Fuck. He was right. We were in my newly purchased strip club, and I was foaming at the mouth over this woman. My infatuation was already deep.
I glanced over at the pole, and Desire’s eyes were hooded as she danced like she was seducing the pole itself. A nasty foreign feeling rose inside me and burned across my chest.
Jesus fuck. I was getting jealous of inanimate objects.
Giving myself a shake, I realised I needed to tip her and send her home, or else I’d end up breaking one of my own goddam rules and dragging her off to a private room. Or worse, just plain kidnapping her. Blowing out a breath, I refused to be like my father.
I caught her eye and gestured to her wrap on the floor. She stopped dancing. I watched her cover her gorgeous body and beckoned her over.
Loch stood and walked over to stare out at the main floor.
“Eyes away,” I barked for Ian and Craig’s benefit.
“How long have you worked here?” I asked as she drew level with the table, bringing a vanilla scent.
Her painted brow furrowed, and her gaze darted away, then returned, zeroing in on my sidearm, visible now that my suit jacket was off.
“No entiendo.” Her eyes shifted nervously.
I tilted my head at the blatant lie. It was like a flash of red to the raging bull inside me. We were literally here to smell out bullshit.
