Page 104 of Pretty Savage: Defy

“If she puts one hand on you, we leave.”

“Deal.”

The woman leads us through the club. I follow behind her while Carrson stays close enough that I can feel his displeasure aimed at the back of my head.

“Laurel,” he says like he’s having second thoughts.

I keep walking.

We enter an elegant room washed in red light. A velvet couch curves along one wall, facing a small platform with a brass pole.

The woman closes the door behind us and turns, already reaching for the clasp at the back of her bodysuit.

Before she can open it, the door swings inward.

A petite woman with honey-brown skin bustles into the room, then yelps when she sees us. One hand presses to her chest while the other moves protectively over the curve of her stomach.

“Krystal!” she scolds. “You forgot to put up the privacy sign. I didn’t think anyone was in here.”

There’s a swell under her dress. She’s pregnant. Not far along, but enough that it can’t be mistaken for anything else.

“Sorry, Cassie,” Krystal says, the flush in her cheeks going one shade darker.

Cassie looks between Carrson and me as she realizes she’s interrupted us.

“My apologies, folks.” She backs toward the hallway with an embarrassed smile. “Totally my mistake. I’ll make sure the door is locked so it doesn’t happen again.”

“Thank you,” I say. “But you can take Krystal with you. We don’t need her.”

“Hey,” Krystal protests.

“It’s nothing against you. I want to be alone with my boyfriend. That was the plan all along.”

“Oh.” Cassie gives me a knowing look. “The room is paid for by the half hour.”

“That’s perfect.”

She takes Krystal by the arm and guides her into the hallway. “Have fun.”

The door closes behind them.

I turn around.

Carrson stands with his arms at his sides, staring at me as though he can’t decide whether to strangle me or kiss me.

“You tricked me.”

“I got you alone.” I plant my hands on my hips. “Did you really think I’d stand here and watch you with another woman?”

“Did you really think I’d want another woman?” he demands.

All the air leaves my body because that’s exactly what I’ve been worrying about since he walked away from me at the ball.

“We need to talk.” I pull an armless upholstered chair into the center of the room. “Sit.”

Surprisingly, Carrson obeys.

He drops into the chair and resumes the defensive position he’s held all night, arms crossed and scowl firmly in place.