Every so often, I scan the bar to see where my other brothers are. Beckett is sitting on one of the velvet couches with Caleb at the opposite end. A group of women, who seem to be celebrating a birthday, are crowded around them, laughing at something one of those two idiots said.
Quinn works her way toward me. Just as she gets about halfway down the bar, a group of men approaches her, one of them with his sights clearly set on her.
I will slit his fucking throat right here in the middle of my bar. Then I’ll use his blood to mop the floor just to show any other guy who thinks about talking to Quinn what will happen if they so much as look at her.
Balling my fist, I rise from my seat, but as I do, Kian slaps a hand on my shoulder. “They’re customers, bro. You need to chill before you start a brawl in our own establishment.”
It feels like shards of glass slicing into the back of my neck as I sit back down. Scowling, I glare at the group of men who are all flirting with Quinn like she’s some sort of toy for them to play with.
“I’m afraid to ask how you know Quinn and if we need to do some kind of employee damage control,” Kian says as he takes the stool next to mine.
I ignore him and continue to watch her. If Quinn so much as flinches or looks like she wants these guys gone, our establishment or not, I’m fucking fighting these assholes.
Her laugh floats through the air, and a second later, the first guy slides a hotel key across the counter to her. This time, Kian stands with me, but as if Quinn senses us ready to jump, she turns her head toward us and gives one shake. She looks up at the dead-man-walking who’s trying to fuck her and passes the card back to him, using her forced smile.
Then she says something and gives him a small wave before shifting to another customer. And just like that, my beautiful girl dismissed that asshole like it was nothing. The guy stares at her for a second, clearly shocked at being denied, but then he grabs the key card and strides away toward his friends.
“Have you fucked her?” Kian asks only loud enough for me to hear.
In my dreams and fantasies, fuck yes, I have. Unfortunately, I’m never going to get the chance in real life because I’m an asshole. I fucked up. And I know it. Hell, I knew it the moment the words came out of my mouth. I don’t blame Quinn for not speaking to me since. I sure as hell wouldn’t forgive me.
My glass sits empty in front of me. I probably don’t need another one, but if Quinn’s going to ignore me for the rest of the night, I might as well.
I catch the attention of the other bartender, who practically runs right over to us like her ass is on fire. This is how most employees act whenever we’re walking around our casinos. Even though we try to make sure they know they don’t have to treat us like royalty, it still happens.
“Get me a bottle of the thirty-year-old single malt,” I tell her.
The bartender rushes off to get it for me just as Quinn walks up. “Would it kill you to say please and thank you?” she asks, only loud enough for me and Kian to hear.
Kian laughs, and I glare at her.
Oh, my girl wants to be sassy, does she?
“Your wish is my command, baby girl,” I answer, loving the way her cheeks turn rosy at the endearment.
As soon as the other bartender slides me the bottle, I grin at her and lay a hundred-dollar bill on the bar. “Thank you.”
The girl gazes at it, and her eyes go wide. Then she looks over at Quinn, asking if this is okay.
Quinn smiles and nods, then narrows her eyes at me and huffs before she walks away. “You make it really hard to hate you.”
Kian looks over at me smugly, and even though I already know he’s going to bug the hell out of me for information, I’m just glad Beckett’s obnoxious ass didn’t see that unfold.
“So we’ve established that Quinn Summers doesn’t hate you. Let’s visit the reasons why shedidso we can figure out if we’re going to be sued.” Kian grabs the bottle of whiskey and pours some in his glass, then waits expectantly.
Fuck.
“We’re not going to be sued,” I snap.
I don’t think we are, anyway. Let my little sunshine try. I’ll take her over my knee so fast she wouldn’t know what to think. And then after her tears have dried, I’d settle between her legs and work out a different agreement with her. One where she’s mine and never leaves my bed.
My brother shakes his head as he brings his glass to his lips. “Whatever you say, man. But from the way you’re looking at her, I think she might be my future sister-in-law. I’m just not sure whether it’s going to be against her will or not.”
Hm.
He has a good idea there.
I’d never force her to fuck me, but I feel like holding her against her will while spoiling the fuck out of her until she wants me isn’ttotallycrossing a line. Morally it’s a little gray, but I wouldn’t hurt her. Unless she was naughty. Then she’d be going to bed with a sore ass until she learned to be my good girl.
