Page 24 of Hard Bargain

“Or,” Dominic continued, “you stay with us for a while. Maybe you need a distraction. And you won’t have to watch what you say. Your call.”

Cassian gave a crooked grin. “We’re not the worst company,” he said. “Depending on your tolerance for terrible decisions.”

Under different circumstances, Knox might have laughed. Instead, he looked from the blood on the floor to the two men in front of him. The thought of going home, of sitting alone in that cramped apartment with nothing but the replay of this looping endlessly in his head, suddenly felt unbearable. He drew in a slow breath. “I could use a distraction.”

Dominic nodded, like he’d expected that answer. “Alright.” He glanced at Cassian. “You pick where we go.”

Not long after, Knox walked out of the warehouse beside them, leaving behind the blood, the body, and the last remnants of the life he could never return to.

* * *

The sign above the door read The Velvet Room, its gold lettering catching in the afternoon light. They stepped through the heavy door into yet another world that belonged to Dominic Rivera.

Even in the middle of the day, the strip club buzzed with life. Music drifted through the air in an insistent rhythm as colored lights slid across bare skin, catching on glitter and expensive lingerie.

The dancers owned the stage, moving with confidence and a seductive energy, all slow hips and knowing smiles. Every movement felt deliberate, designed to keep every eye exactly where they wanted it. The staff moved just as smoothly, weaving between tables with ease, not an empty glass or spilled drink in sight.

Cassian led them toward a booth near the stage, tossing a wink at a passing waitress. She grinned and hurried to set up their table. Around them, heads turned—not openly, never for long—but Knox noticed the quick glances aimed at Dominic before snapping away again, as though staring too long at him might invite consequences.

They’d barely settled in before the waitress returned with a bottle of whiskey, three tumblers, and a bucket of ice. Cassian poured generously. “I love this place,” he said, lifting his drink. “Here’s to terrible coping mechanisms.”

Dominic snorted and shook his head. “You love it because you never pay your own tab.”

Cassian smiled without shame. “Who’s got time to count pennies when there’s art happening on stage?”

Knox took a cautious sip. It went down easier than it had any right to, smoky and rich in a way that made the cheap stuff he usually drank taste like rubbing alcohol by comparison. He shifted in the booth, trying to force himself into something resembling relaxation, but his body refused to cooperate.

When he looked up, he caught Dominic watching him. An unreadable expression sat in those hazel eyes. “How are you holding up?” he asked.

Knox stared into his drink. “I’ve had better days.”

Cassian reached over and patted his arm. “Trust me, it can get worse. I’ve had days where the cops, an ex-girlfriend, and a rabid Chihuahua were all after me at once. You’ll survive. Perspective, kid.”

A huff escaped Knox. “Yeah? I think I’d take the dog next time.”

“You did good,” Dominic said.

Knox’s attention snapped back to him.

“Most people would’ve run out the door,” Dominic went on. “Or thrown up on their shoes. You didn’t do either.”

Knox met his eyes. He wasn’t sure why Dominic’s approval made him feel better, but somehow it eased the knot in his chest. “Didn’t feel like I had much choice.”

A curve touched Dominic’s mouth. “No. You didn’t.”

That should have been the end of it. Instead, Dominic kept watching him. The weight of it sat strangely against Knox’s skin. He looked away first, reaching for his drink mostly to have something to do with his hands.

Cassian leaned in. “Look,” he said. “Nobody walks out of something like that untouched. But you get used to it.”

Knox froze, his grip tightening around the glass. Those words—used to it—landed wrong.

Cassian just raised his glass again. “To surviving the first day. And to the second being easier.”

They all drank. For a while, the club felt safer than it should. Like some strange buffer between him and reality. A place where the gunshot couldn’t quite reach him.

Conversations drifted to safer ground. Cassian told increasingly ridiculous stories that were probably half lies and somehow still entertaining. Stories about wild nights, close calls, girls who’d broken his heart and guys who’d tried to break his nose.

Dominic mostly listened, a smile ghosting at the edges of his mouth, his posture relaxed for the first time since Knox met him. That was somehow stranger than anything else. Because when Dominic wasn’t actively terrifying someone, there was something almost deceptively easy about him.