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“You don’t know what you’re talking about because my head is all about business and getting shit done in Vegas. I’ve been out here for six months setting this up, so there’s no way I’m letting anything slip through my fingers.” Two seconds ago, he’d used those same words, only with a completely different meaning when referring to Lisbeth.
“Yeah, your brain is all about business, but your dick might be another story.”
“Let me worry about my dick.”
Mamba flanked him on the other side. “Shit, man, you two look way too serious for a party in a fuckin’ strip club.” He angled Samson and Nick over to a booth where the Serpents were hanging out with their old ladies.
“Sit your ass down and loosen up.” Mamba smirked at Samson as he grabbed one of the girls working the floor, then shoved a shot of tequila into his hand. “This is Crystal, and I guarantee she’ll put a smile on your miserable face.”
Mamba anchored a wad of bills in Crystal’s g-string, and she wasted no time getting down and dirty. In another time or place, Samson would’ve already had plans to get her alone, but his heart just wasn’t in it, and neither was his dick. The knock-out shook her tits in his face, and all he could think about was his conversation with Lisbeth.
* * *
Madeline’s dark brown eyes penetrated Lisbeth with the honesty of her words. She'd learned long ago to listen to her gut, hear her inner self, and go where her heart led. The same instinct told her to move away from New York, work hard in LA, and eventually open her own business.
“You know I’m right,” Madeline prodded.
“Edward, my fiancé, is a wonderful man.” He understood her business and never questioned her about working weekends or traveling to events since there were times when his business called him away too.
“I’m sure he is, hun. He’s just not the man for you.”
They’d seemed like the perfect match. Her mother delighted at the idea, congratulating her on finding a stable man who would never put her through the same anxieties as Lisbeth’s father. She’d rattled on about security, substance, and dependability—but never once mentioned love. And, of course, her office manager, Evelyn, sang his praises daily in the office.
Lisbeth understood her mother’s pragmatic advice at the time. Her father’s flitting from one job to another, then finally losing the house and their savings made her mother distrustful and certainly not spouting poems about love. Without meaning to, she’d instilled those same fears while lauding the value of responsibility and practical values in Lisbeth.
“And you can’t deny it, can you?”
Lisbeth chalked up her intense feelings for Samson to youth, infatuation, and naivety, telling herself such tantalizing relationships didn’t hold up and fizzled as fast as they started. She only needed to look at her parents’ life as confirmation, yet—
“Even if I agree, what do you suggest I do?”
“March your sweet ass back in there, tell him how you feel, and claim him.”
“Claim him?”
She crooked her thumb toward the building. “These hard-ass bikers are always talking about claiming their women.” Madeline did a dramatic eye roll. “When, in reality, it’s us women who claim them. I don’t know about other clubs, but let me tell you, the Serpents’ old ladies are as tough as the men.” Madeline counted off on her fingers. “Roxy is the beverage manager here, and I own my catering business. Then we got two former con artists and a Hollywood screenwriter. Mandy owns a nail salon, and Virginia’s working on her second romance novel.” Madeline laughed. “So yeah, Samson may not be a Serpent, but he’s got the same alpha attitude, so you’re gonna have to go in there and claim him.”
Lisbeth swallowed hard against Madeline’s words. It was one thing to admit the truth but something else entirely to carry it out.
Madeline slung her arm around Lisbeth’s shoulders. “Let’s go. Moment of truth.”
Somehow Madeline gave her the confidence she needed. She’d find Samson and tell him how she felt. He’d made himself clear earlier, so he didn’t need convincing. Then tomorrow morning, she would call Edward. Lisbeth couldn’t start anything with Samson until she formerly broke it off with Edward. She felt guilty enough about kissing Samson, no less letting it go any further.
They entered the club, and Lisbeth set her mind on finding Samson, spitting out all her truths and, as Madeline said, claiming her man. It seemed archaic, but her words had rung true.
Madeline flagged over one of the prospects. “You seen Samson?”
“Yeah, he’s in the back at the Serpents’ table.” Then he threw Madeline a sneaky grin that Lisbeth couldn’t decipher.
“They usually sit off to the right of the stage. Let’s go.”
Lisbeth absorbed Madeline’s confidence, and the further they strode into the club, the surer Lisbeth felt she was doing the right thing. A tingle of excitement skated up her spine at the thought of finally admitting her true feelings.
They weaved their way around tables and waitresses to the back of the room. Lisbeth picked out the Serpents’ leather vests, orcuts, as the MC called them, crowded around a table, some sitting, some standing and talking to others. Two shifted, and Lisbeth froze in place, her eyes wide with disbelief.
17
Samson never thought he’d see the day he’d find a lap dance torture, but here he was, trying his damnedest to make it all stop. Pretty fuckin’ sad since Crystal had all the right moves and a smokin’ body, but all he could think about was Lisbeth and how she jetted out of the club like she couldn’t get away from him fast enough. The irony mocked him—she’d just done what Samson did to her ten years ago. His logical brain told him to follow Nick’s advice that he was living in the past and to give her up, but the emotions churning deep within him said they were meant to be together.
