But unlike her, I already know it won’t ever be what it was.
It can’t. I won’t let it.
Her movements start to slow, then still. Her breathing evens out as she falls into a slumber in my arms, and after what just happened, I let her. I hold her as I watch the cameras and make sure no one is doing something they can’t.
Something like what I’m doing.
Because while I might not be willing to give up Payton, I know I should. Maybe even must.
A soft knock echoes in the now-quiet room, since I turned off the sound coming from the private room and put the cameras back to their normal feeds a while ago. I don’t look back. I know who it is before they even enter.
“How’d it go?” Dante’s smug face comes into view, but other than the smirk, he keeps the taunt where it should be—unspoken.
I don’t answer him. There’s nothing to say.
Instead, I gather Payton securely in my arms and walk out. He has work to do, and I have a woman to get to bed so she can rest before we do that again.
That and more.
Much more.
The sound of her gasp reaches my ears before I look up to see her sitting up and looking around. She seems dazed and unsure, as if lost in a dream, as she takes in my space.
I wanted to take her home. To lay her out on my bed and wait till she woke up to redo what we did in the tech room. But a reminder on my phone had me carrying her to my office instead.
I know half the damn club saw me do it. And the other half is probably hearing about it. Good. Saves me time from having to warn off anyone who’s going to be an issue for me.
Payton is mine. I own her. The paperwork has been filed. She has a debt to pay, and I’ll be the one to collect. Not in sexual favors, but in actual financial value. That I’m interested in her as more than just a debt is complicated but not unheard of. Pretty sure there is a line of men in my family who found their mistresses in such a fashion. Butmistressisn’t what I would title what she means to me. It’s more than that. How much? Well, that’s what I’m trying to figure out.
And if the gossip spreads that she means something to me, or that I’m looking after her, it should be enough to keep others at bay while I figure shit out. At least to preventanother attack on her. Well, that and I plan on moving her in with me till all this is sorted.
I made a point not to commit to where I said she was going to live. If I say nothing and just put her in my place, then when—orif—I tire of whatever this is and realize it’s more lust than anything else, I can move her to another building.
But a nagging voice in the back of my head warns that what I’m feeling isn’t going to go away. It will just increase. For better or worse.
“She wakes,” I muse, drawing her eye to me before she once again looks around.
“What is this place?”
“My office.”
“Your office?” She says the words slowly, as if it’s a language she doesn’t understand. And maybe it is. Few people know where I work. I’m not hiding it, but I’m definitely not advertising.
The space is large, and from her wide eyes, she’s taking in what I’m not saying. That this is where she’ll be performing. When I need someone distracted, it will be done here, with the window view into the club and her beside them, cuddling up to them while we talk business.
I shift uncomfortably in my seat at the image. One I planted myself and thought would be a good idea. But the more I think about it, especially after what happened a few hours ago, I’m not sure if I can handle seeing another’s hands on her. I might have to install a stripper pole instead and teach her to dance on that, far away from wandering fingers.
Looking at her, I can deal with. I’ve dealt with it since I started. I see that she pulls a crowd, draws the eye. And whileI might not be thrilled at all the eyes on her, I can curb my jealous nature so long as they’re only looking.
I might have to test myself before I put her in use, see if I can handle her with someone close. I’d rather not kill a potential business associate in the club because the green rage monster came out. Never really was the jealous type before, but something about Payton makes me think that might be a thing of the past. At least where it concerns her.
Ignoring her, I return to the books in front of me. I go over them nightly before sending them off to Bobby to have his team double- and triple-check shit. We’re still not bringing in as much as I expected. Either I really suck at this, or we still have a thief in our house.
And unfortunately, it’s not Carl. I have an entire team tailing him night and day. Phones and laptops tapped, cameras on every inch of space I can find that he occupies. And nothing. He either got scared the second I showed and dropped contact with the person helping him steal, or he hasn’t been contacted at all.
Which makes me think it’s another person in this club. Someone else is stealing from me, and I can’t figure out how. Which pisses me off. Well, me and Bobby. He takes it personally when money goes missing. All of it is his responsibility, like Danny with security. If money isn’t where it should be, it means he’s failing. His words, not mine.
We Leones are all like that. Strongheaded assholes who might lead as a family but take it personally when shit goes bad. Which is why we’re so awesome. No one blames the others because we all blame ourselves enough. No one is a worse critic than yourself. And while we all know we can lean on the others to help, we try to figure shit out on our ownfirst. To work out the obvious and not just give up and pull resources from another department. Or brother.
