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“It’s not too late to change your mind.”
I look at Andre, panic carved into his face.
“It’s fine, Andre. Calm down. I just need to check something, and then I’ll be back. Can you see Vincent’s car?”
He shakes his head. “His car was parked in the lot when I picked you up.”
I fall back into my seat, a huff of surprise escaping. “It was? He left before me.”
“Maybe he was picked up?” he suggests. “What are you looking for in there?” He lifts his chin in the direction of the building.
I shrug. “I don’t know, but I don’t like being lied to, Andre. I may have been forced into marriage, but I won’t be made a fool of.”
He drops his eyes, but I catch the slice of pride that cuts through them. “I’ll be here.”
“Thank you,” I murmur, opening the car door to step onto the sidewalk.
Steadying my breath, I tighten my coat around my waist, stuffing my shaking hands into my pockets.
The club is dark inside, the entryway lined with large framed pictures of the naked silhouette of women. A soft thrum of music fills the space. It smells of a dirty touch of vanilla and excess cleaning products, and my nose pinches in distaste.
“Honey, we’re closed.”
I look at the tiny woman flicking papers at the front desk, her eyes casting me a look of curiosity before focusing back on her paperwork.
I walk past her. “Not to me, you’re not.”
She chases after me, a snort of disbelief hitting my back. “Excuse me.”
I push open the door into the actual club to a sight I’d like to bleach from my eyeballs. A naked woman—not much older than me—gyrating her hips on my father’s lap, his face in her tits.
“Stop!” the girl from the front yells, pulling my father’s attention.
“Bianca,” he bellows, tapping the dancer’s ass for her to move. She does so without delay. “What are you doing here?”
He looks incredulous but not in the least bit embarrassed or concerned that I caught him mid lap dance at ten in the morning.
“Where’s Vincent?” I keep walking, looking around the room for signs of my lying husband.
“He’s not here.”
I roll my eyes. “Because you’d really tell me if he were.” I move toward the back, where the private rooms are.
My father grabs my arm, and I whirl on him, my temper on high alert.
“Leave,” he snarls.
I yank at my arm, but he holds it tight. I don’t let the discomfort of his touch show. “I suggest you let go of my arm before I tell myhusbandyou put your hands on me,” I threaten.
His eyes bulge with rage, but he lets me go, and I continue down the hallway.
“I’m calling your husband. He can put his fucking hands on you for being so blatantly disrespectful,” my father yells, and his threat gives me pause. Why would he call Vincent if he isn’t here?
I push open the doors to the private rooms anyway, not trusting my father not to lie, finding them empty. It’s early, so most of the girls have not yet arrived for their shifts. Except my father’s pet of course.
I barge into the main office, finding Leo sitting at my father’s desk, legs splayed open as a woman, dressed only in a thong and stilettos, sucks his dick.
“Oh.” I startle at the sight, my cheeks heating instantaneously.
