Page 38 of Cocky Brutal Sinner

A flash of sparkling black in the crowd draws my attention. It’s a dress, worn by a woman walking in a group of college students. I don’t know why my instincts tell me to follow her with my eyes. Her hips sway as she walks in her high heels. She’s facing away from me, chatting with a friend. Then her head turns, and⁠—

Holy shit.

It’s fucking Brinley, wearing the world’s sexiest fuck-me dress.

Of course, I’ve always known Brinley’s pretty, with her big brown eyes and the dimple that flashes on her left cheek when she smiles. I know that because I’m not fucking blind. But tonight…fuck, she’s something else entirely in that black dress. Luke’s little sister isn’t supposed to look like that, with the fabric hugging her small waist and full, sexy hips. She’s abandoned her thick black-rimmed glasses. Her long brown hair hangs loose for once, drawing my eyes down to her⁠—

Nope. Not looking at Luke’s sister’s ass. Not happening. My chest gets tight, just thinking about how hard he’d deck me if I went there.

Hell, based on the way every man she passes gives her a double take, Luke would deck every person of the male persuasion in the whole goddamn club. But Luke’s not here, which means someone has to keep an eye on her.

Unfortunately, that leaves me.

I watch as a strange guy in a shiny button-down, not from Brinley’s group, approaches her on the dance floor. He steps right into her space and leans down to whisper in her ear. Fuck, does she even know this guy?

Apparently not, by the way she quickly steps back and shakes her head. She tilts her head toward her friends, and I know she’s in the middle of the classic club speech. Thanks, but I’m with my friends tonight. I’ve seen it a thousand times at Velvet & Vice.

I stare daggers at Shiny Shirt, willing him to walk away. I don’t want to have to go over there and interrupt Brinley’s night.

He doesn’t. Instead, he leans down again, probably trying some pathetic pick-up line he’s used twenty times already tonight. Brinley doesn’t even give him the time of day. She just turns around to dance with a female friend, acting like he doesn’t even exist. Shiny Shirt blinks, befuddled. He stares at her dumbly for a moment before he stalks away, shoulders slumped with defeat.

She doesn’t need me to save her. She’s a grown woman, surrounded by friends, not the least bit drunk or incapacitated. She can handle herself.

I lean back against the bar and watch anyway. No way am I letting Luke’s baby sister get into trouble at my own club, and with Brinley wearing that dress, I know that Shiny Shirt won’t be the last man to try his luck.

Which is exactly what happens.

Guys approach Brinley all night and she handles them neatly every time. If the men accept her “no” with good grace, she blesses them with a smile and gets back to her friends. If they dare to push a second time, she delivers a sharp refusal that sends them slinking back to their own friends.

When I glance at my watch, I realize with horror that I’ve been watching Brinley dance for forty-five minutes. That officially makes me a creep. I should go back to the office, or check on the bar stock. Or do literally anything other than stand here tracking Luke’s little sister across my own club like some kind of⁠—

My eyes narrow as a new would-be suitor approaches Brinley. This one is tall and muscular, almost as big as me. His pale blonde hair glints under the club lights. As sharp and clever as Brinley is, she’s way too small to ever fight him off if things get physical.

The guy taps her shoulder and says something. Brinley shrugs him off, like she has with everyone else. The blonde doesn’t walk away, not even when she snaps some comeback at him and turns away. He grabs her waist and pulls her back against him, ignoring the way she stiffens.

Fuck. That’s not just any guy, it’s the guy who groped Mandy earlier. He must have gotten past security somehow and I know he’s not letting Brinley go that easy.

I’m across the floor before I’ve even made a conscious decision. Pure animal reflex incinerates every rational argument I’ve been making for the last hour. Brinley might not need me to save her, but she’s got me anyway.

My hand lands firmly on his shoulder as I spin him around to face me.

“I thought you were escorted outside once already tonight.” My voice sounds like icy steel, cutting in a way that surprises even me. “You wouldn’t make me call the police to remove you a second time, would you?”

The blonde’s eyes narrow. “And who the fuck are you?”

“I’m the man who owns this club.” My fingers tighten around his shoulder. “And you’re not welcome here.”

Uncertainty creeps into his eyes. What an entitled fucking asshole. “I’m a paying customer,” he says dumbly.

“I don’t need your money. I need you to leave now, before things get worse for you.”

Before my fist slams into your ugly face hard enough to shatter your goddamn jaw.

The blonde must see the violent rage in my eyes, because he gulps, his Adam’s apple bobbing.

“Whatever,” he mutters. “This place is lame anyway.”

“You can come with me, sir,” a cool voice says from behind me. It’s Peter, his face smooth and professional. My manager must have been watching the whole thing. Maybe he doesn’t need to be fired, after all. He can work under probation until he learns that Velvet & Vice will always choose keeping its workers safe over keeping rich customers happy.