I locked the phone and tossed it on the other counter. “I need to see her again.”
Killian raised an eyebrow. “You sure that’s a good idea? You kind of treated her like a menu item last night.”
“She still sucked my soul out, so I’m taking that as a maybe.”
He laughed, the sound echoing off the high ceilings of the penthouse. “You’re impossible. At least text her first before you show up at the club.”
Right. Smart thinking.
I picked the phone up again and opened OnlyFans. My fingers hovered over the reply box. What the hell do you even say to the woman who deepthroated you after you publicly offered her cash for sex?
SaintCross69:Breakfast suits you. When can I return the favor?
I hit send before I could overthink it.
Killian shook his head, balling up the wrapper. “You’re gonna get yourself in trouble with this one.”
“Trouble’s my brand,” I muttered, already feeling the familiar pull. That low, addictive hum under my skin that only came when something — or someone — got under it.
Fuck, I loved women.
My second night in the Gilded Lily started with a broken zipper and a substitute dress that was even shorter than the first. The only saving grace was that the tips, indeed, kept coming in. I kept my head down, my smile bright, and my hands steady as I navigated the purple-lit maze of leather booths and wandering hands. The trick was to move just fast enough that contact became accidental, and not a brush of fingers against hip that I could pretend not to notice.
By ten o’clock, my feet were screaming and my face hurt from smiling, but I’d made three hundred dollars in cash. All in all — nothing to bitch about.
Burgundy was the only one in tonight from the girls I’d made friends with, and she had just disappeared in the direction of the private rooms with a man twice her age.
I stepped into the kitchen, feeling the cool AC air on my scalp, and picked up my phone from the counter where I’d left it. Enrique was deep in yet another sports thing on his phone while flipping burgers at the same time.
I opened the last message from Cross and stared at the words.
When can I return the favor?
I hadn’t replied anything to that, because I didn’t know what to reply. He made me feel like a giddy sixteen-year-old who was about to get her heart broken by the hot senior with the guitar. The butterflies in my stomach were exactlythatstrong. The very thought of him made me wet. And the thought of the thirty-five grand he’d offered, made me even wetter. But I had a better idea for him. He had embarrassed me — outed me — it was only fair for me to redo the favor.
If he wanted to fuck me, he’d have to do it on film, I had decided. But that didn’t mean I couldn’t have my fun in the meantime.
BabyDollXO:Swing by the club at around 2. I’m feeling like you could go for an early breakfast.
I set the phone back down and turned to Enrique. “Ricky?”
“Sí, chica?” He didn’t turn away from the counter, the knife doing the tap-tap-tap against the cutting board while the hamburger meat sizzled in the pan. The seasoning made my mouth water, and I considered stealing one of those burgers.
“Men are simple creatures, right?”
I saw his mouth twist in the profile of his face. “Keep our bellies full and our balls empty is what I say. Why?”
I leaned against the counter, the warm metal pressing into my lower back. “No reason. Just… thinking.”
Enrique finally turned, wiping his hands on a towel slung over his shoulder. “Then think while you take these two plates out there before Remy has both our asses on the grill.”
I did. A burger and a steak for two guys in rumpled suits sitting by the stage, drooling over a dancer in a bright purple lingerie set.
The Gilded Lily was different in that regard. It served actual good food, not just watered-down liquor for the price of a premium.
One of the older 50 Cent songs started playing, and two other girls stepped on stage under the neon glow. The lights flipped to blistering ultraviolet, catching the sequins of their thongs like stars jammed together. The men started salivating — and not over the food I’d just brought out. By the end of their dance, the floor of the stage was covered in stacks upon stacks of dollar bills.
My shift ended at 2, but there was no sign of Cross. I had lingered near the service station, pretending to wipe down the counter while my phone burned a hole in my palm. The club had thinned out — only the die-hards remained. Burgundy had long since clocked out, her crimson bodysuit replaced by jeans and a hoodie as she vanished into the neon haze of the Quarter. Enrique had already started shutting down the kitchen, the scent of bleach cutting through the lingering aroma of fried food.
