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“Problem, Dolly?”
“Yeah, I’m too young to hang out in strip clubs.”
“Your mom didn’t seem to think so when she brought you in to work when you were fucking fourteen.”
“She didn’t have a choice. You do.” I swallow my shame. Why does he have to be such an asshole and bring up my mom?
When he sees that I don’t budge, I bet he’s not happy about me letting him wait in front of his bouncers in the pouring rain outside, he grabs my hand and jerks me into his warm body, slamming the car door behind my back. Under the sheets of rain, I feel a lot more agreeable when he ushers me into his club, passing the bouncers who nod in his direction in awe and fear. We slip through a dark, narrow hallway leading to another pair of closed double doors, the floorboards beneath us creaking with the beat of the sleazy music coming from the inside of the club.
He pushes the second set of double doors open and we’re inside. There’s a stage in front of us, T-shaped with a short catwalk. A pole stands on each end, three in total, and on each of them is an almost naked young chick with a pair of high heels. My stomach lurches and I twist toward the front door again before I realize Graham is holding into me tightly.
“Let me go,” I whisper, my tone almost inaudible. But he hears me. Even through the music blasting in the background, “West Coast” by Lana Del Rey, he hears me and my cheek is now pressed against his broad strong chest. I want to scream and cry, but can’t even bring myself to lift my gaze and look into his eyes. I’m so confused. He holds me. No, he clasps me, almost like a hug, and murmurs into my ear.
“You know why I brought you here?” he asks.
“To taunt me about my mom?” My voice is shaking and my unshed tears are stinging the back of my eyeballs. God, I hate him so much. Him and my mom. All I ever wanted is a shot at a normal life. I thought I had it up until now, even though mom cared more about her time with Julio tha
n her time with me, and now…now Graham is trying to push my limits, and I don’t even know why.
“No, kiddo. I’m doing this because I fucking care about you. Look, just look.” He takes my jaw between his fingers and direct my face to the stage. My vision is blurry with tears but I keep it together. I watch the strippers as they move, grinding the poles seductively to the melancholic, sexy sound of Lana Del Rey’s voice. They’re so beautiful but so sad. I know not all strippers are sad. I know this is a high-class joint and in all probability, they have medical insurance, a fat paycheck and relatively respectable clients. But still…it’s degrading. I get that. I just don’t understand why Graham makes me watch them.
“What’s your point?” I breath out, exasperated. He takes my small palm in his huge one and guides me through the throng of people sitting around and watching the show toward the back, probably to where his office is. When he gets to a dark wooden door he punches in a code and opens it, signaling me to sit in front of another desk of another office that looks exactly like the one he has in Hot N’ Bothered.
He doesn’t turn on the light, but there’s a glass window separating us from the strip club so there are blue, green and pink lights pouring in. I can barely make out his features.
“This is why I married your mother, Dolly,” he says into the darkness. What?
My body is stiff on the leather recliner I am sitting on, and I clear my throat. “What do you mean?”
“I mean”—he leans against the window overlooking the dancing strippers and ogling old men, hands in his pockets again—“I could’ve married anyone to get my paperwork in order. I chose her. I could’ve opted for a New York apartment and didn’t have to live with you ladies. I chose Jersey. I could have done so many things differently…I chose this path,” he finishes, the intensity of his voice electrifying. I suck in a breath.
“Why?” I breathe. This time I sense his eyes nailing me into my seat even in the dark.
“Because of you. You, Dolly. I saw how your mom dragged you into her shifts day after day after day. The way you’d sit there and play with your dolls and color your books. You were so innocent and precious. I wanted to give you something else.”
You seemed to have wanted to give me your dick just the other day, I want to interject, but I keep mum because it looks like he has something he wants to get off his chest.
Graham pushes from where he was standing and strides in my direction, his face back to being its usual stoic self. He drips power and dominance and I’m not sure what I’ve done to deserve these feelings he seems to have developed for me, but the way he makes me feel…it’s different. He makes me feel loved, which is weird, scary and precious. So, so precious.
“Is that what you are? A superhero who rescues kids?” I lick my lips and stare at his. He offers me a crooked smile, tilting his head and stopping when he is mere inches from me. He braces his arms on each of the arms of the recliner I am sitting on, and we’re almost nose-to-nose. I can smell his cigar, his aftershave and his singular male scent. And it’s driving me crazy.
“A savior? I’m not a savior. I’m just a bad guy who saw something he wanted and took it. When you were fourteen, something drew me to you. I didn’t know what it was, but it wasn’t sexual. Not even remotely. I wanted you safe. But then you blossomed into this”—he bites his lower lip seductively, and I can actually feel wetness trickling down, making its way to my opening—“and I realized exactly what I wanted from you. Put simply, I wanted you.”
I swallow, staring at him with wide eyes because I can’t fathom what he’s saying. He wants me?
Graham probably sees the confusion on my face, because he continues.
“I don’t fuck girls, Dolly. I fuck ladies. When you were a girl, I thought I wanted to be your daddy, but when I moved in with you, even after I saw how your mom is a shitty parent, I couldn’t bring myself to get into this role. I gave you money, support, clothes and a nice room and whatever the fuck it is kids need, but not parenthood. Because I’m not your parent, sweetheart. And I’m about to do very un-parental things to you.”
My thighs open wide without my permission, and I hold my breath as he inches closer, his face now an inch from mine.
“Anyone can see us from outside,” I mutter. He shakes his head, staring at the pulse in my neck.
“No, baby. One-sided glass window. I could fuck you here on my desk and they wouldn’t see a thing.”
A thought occurs to me and I lick my lips, smiling. I want to take over. I want to show my stepdaddy that I can be a controlling, self-restrained asshole just like him. I smirk, playing with his crimson red tie, looking at him from under my lashes.
“Graham?” I ask. He doesn’t answer, but his throat bobs and his Adam’s apple dances as his gaze shoots to my parted lips. “Remember when I caught you watching me playing with myself?”
