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I nod at him and leave the vehicle. The building is immaculate. The tone is set with purple and black lights. Floor-to-ceiling, black, glossy doors are barred to patrons, unless you’re VIP. I skip the line. For once, I’m thankful I know most of the bouncers in this city. We used to employ half of them. I’m let in and I make my way inside.
“Good evening, sir, can I get you a drink?” A beautiful woman in a sparkling black teddy approaches me.
I decide to spare her by smiling. “I’ll take an Old Fashioned in the VIP box.”
Her eyes widen and her smile grows flirtatious. “Absolutely. Is there anything else I can get you?”
“Who’s danced so far tonight?”
Her smile fumbles, but she recovers. “Our crowd jewels, Octavia, Miranda, and Mya have performed so far.”
“And who is up next?”
“Are you expecting someone, sir?” Her eyes narrow in concern, which is the last thing I need. I don’t need her tipping off the dancers that someone is asking about them.
“I just like to be prepared.” I fake indifference and go to move around her.
As if realizing her mistake, and needing to please all guests, she stops me with a gentle hand on my arm. “I’ll bring your drink right up, sir. Box Number 7 is open and has a terrific view of the stage. We still have dances from Kylie, Sapphire…”
She keeps talking but I’m stuck on the name Sapphire. A gem.Ruby. Jade.“Thank you,” I say to her and continue up the stairs to Box 7 as she suggested.
The area is open to the stage, with an overview look. I watch three dances before I start to question if Terrance made a mistake or not. None of them are Jade. Even if she cut her hair or wore makeup, I would know her. She might have changed after high school, but my soul would recognize hers. It has since the day we first met.
“Sapphire,” The DJ announces and the lights go down. My blood hums in my veins. I can’t look away from the stage.
Her hair is cropped short, but it's still the dark, midnight brown I loved running my hands through. Her skin is tanned and glowing from the Las Vegas sun and sparkles they put on her. My fists clench around my drink, while I watch her body expertly move around the neon-lit pole.
Seductive.
Tempting.
Damaged.
She has every man here mesmerized with a broken and tantalizing look in her emerald green eyes. Her lips are painted black and I’ve never wanted to kiss her more. She works the crowd expertly, and money floats all around her. Her body is on display, eating up the attention, and I fucking hate it. All these men will pay for seeing her.
“Can you use your phone in a strip club?” Terrance asks, his voice slightly tired.
“Find out who the owners are. I want her off their roster. Any club in the city no longer can employ her.” I growl down the line.
“You’re going to end her source of income,” He reminds me.
“Why the hell isn’t she in school? Check the different colleges and get back to me. Call Scarlet at La Flor. Get Jade a job in their performances,” I continue and I can hear him typing shit out.
“I am not a secretary,” he throws in for good measure and I grunt.
“I’m buying a lap dance then my flight leaves. I want all these contacts done by then,” I tell him before hanging up. Jade’s performance is over and even I can tell she’s the highest paid dancer here. I leave the box and go find the woman who greeted me.
Her smile lights up when she sees me this time. “How can I help you, sir?”
“Are there any bachelor parties here tonight? Birthdays?” I ask and her brow lifts.
“A twenty-first birthday actually,” she answers, her head tilting in confusion.
“Buy him a dance with Sapphire. I want one of the viewing rooms. You know which ones I’m talking about, right?” I question and this time a blush stains her cheeks. Managers and owners always think patrons don’t know about the finer details of their clubs. With a name like Primal, I took a gamble that this is some of what they offered.
“Yes, sir,” she murmurs and scurries away. Five minutes later, I’m being led into a secluded room with a two-way mirror. I can see the man in the chair, but he is unable to see me.
Jade walks in and my stomach coils, watching her run her hand down his arm. She glances once at the mirror but doesn’t inquire or make a move toward it. The lights dim, the music starts and she moves. It’s torture to watch her climb on his lap. Her heels digging into the side of the chair, while she rolls her body against his.
