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A jazz tune belts through the speakers as the lights dim, signaling the next cabaret act is about to begin. Savanna’s eyes widen when she spots Ash and Willow. She waves them over, gesturing for them to sit next to her. I take my place between Sloan and Max’s brothers.
Max presses his palm to the table and leans over Sloan to look at me. “Sloan tells me you’re having reservations about the paperwork.”
“I’m not selling my algorithm.”
“It’s an algorithm. You can write another.”
“Easy for you to say. You bought yours.”
The Carter brothers have money and looks, but they don’t have my coding talent. They were investors in an early round of Exact Match funding. Somehow, they managed to devalue the company long enough to make a low-ball offer, securing themselves a billion-dollar dating app. Now, they are crushing it around the world with their suite of dating services.
I don’t respect them, not the way I would if they were the creators of Exact Match. Sloan doesn’t get it because of his involvement in the company. Sure, his big mouth and ease with schmoozing investors helped us get to this point, but even he doesn’t know what it’s like to create something from scratch, only to give it all away.
“Look,” Max says with anger in his tone. “I thought we had an agreement. You and Sloan sought us out, not the other way around. I want to work with you on this, but…”
“You need my algorithm to make it work.”
He nods. “Sloan assured me this wouldn’t be a problem.”
His confession sucks the air from my chest. I turn my head to look at Sloan, who gives me one of his boyish smiles. The aww shucks routine isn’t going to work on me this time. Sloan plays stupid to get what he wants.
How could he do this to me? He played it off earlier as if he had no idea, when in reality he offered my algorithm to them on a silver platter.
I glance across the table, my eyes instantly finding Ash. She looks so fucking pretty tonight, with her long hair curled over her shoulder. Her tits are popping out of her red top, practically begging me, and every other man in this room, to notice her. Sloan’s betrayal hurts, but knowing I have done worse things to him over the years softens my resolve.
Ash slides her arm across the back of Willow’s neck and whispers in her ear. They both howl with laughter, their eyes focused on the girls assembling on stage. Willow tilts her head to the side, points her finger at one of the flappers, and then shakes her head.
I ignore Sloan when he taps me on the shoulder, unable to meet his gaze.
“You said we could talk about this. Hear Max out.”
The music dulls to a low hum, and then a female announcer’s voice blares through the speakers. A dark-haired woman in her early forties raises a microphone to her lips. She looks good for her age, her body slim and toned in the same corset outfit as the other employees.
“It’s Thursday,” the woman says. “So, you know what that means.” She does a little dance, clicking her heels. “Do we have any brave souls in the audience who will join us on stage for a rendition of The Beautiful and the Damned?”
My heart hammers in my chest when Ash slides off the bench, followed by Willow and Savana.
Where the hell are they going?
Sloan is too busy glaring at me to notice the girls are about to walk away. I want to stop her, protect her from the men in this club.
“Your sister,” I say, tipping my head toward the girls, and he follows my line of sight.
“Ash,” Sloan groans.
“Don’t start,” Ash snaps.
Max waves his hand dismissively. “Let them go. Savanna’s done this before.”
“My sister isn’t taking her clothes off in front of everyone in this club.”
“It’s a cabaret show, not burlesque,” Max points out. “She’s an actress, right?”
Sloan nods.
Max squeezes Sloan’s shoulder. “So, then let her act.”
Sloan’s body relaxes, and he leans back against the chair with his arms folded over his chest. I can’t believe him. If anyone could stop Ash from getting on the stage, it’s Sloan. Lately, he does whatever Max wants, and it pisses me off.
Savanna blows a kiss to her husband. Ash raises her hand and gives me a wave with a silly smirk plastered on her plump, red lips.
Is she doing this on purpose?
The girls climb the stairs, and the announcer claps with the microphone in her hand. A brunette appears at their side, guiding them behind the curtain to get dressed for their performance. My stomach fills with nerves. Sloan is speaking to me, but I can’t make out the words over the loud jazz music cranking through the speakers.
