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Anton
What the fuck was pretty boy doing here? How dare he touch my woman? Worse, how could she let him hold her like that for all to see? Granted, the surprise on her face when he grabbed her looked genuine. Refusing him that first dance would have been rude. Though it displeased me, I could accept that. But a second and then a third? Whispering, giggling and making fucking googly eyes at each other? As if that wasn’t enough, she kissed him. She fucking kissed him right in my face. How dare she humiliate me?
And me, like a damned idiot, let myself be conned into thinking her sweet and affectionate disposition was genuine. The way she held on to me when I said she was mine, the fervor of her response when she said she belonged to me, it sounded so sincere. Stupid fool… I wanted to march down to that dance floor and break pretty boy’s neck.
“They sure make a beautiful couple,” Caleb said. “Of course, it’s all innocent, but I expected her to at least slap him for abandoning her to his creditors.”
That freaky bastard. I wanted to smash his handsome face on the table, see how smug he would look then. It was all his fault too. Had he not intercepted me for this so-called urgent conversation, I would be home right now, balls deep inside Grace. I wouldn’t have fucked her, as per our usual. I had planned on making love to her, in a proper bed, with actual foreplay. The perfect ending to a perfect evening. Instead, I was sitting here, watching pretty boy grope my woman and pondering what punishment would most suit her latest offense.
“You have no idea how much I envy you, Anton,” Caleb said, the taunting glimmer in his eye plain to see. “Such a beautiful girl with such a sweet disposition. Should you tire of her at any point, I’ll be more than happy to buy off the rest of her contract.”
Like hell you will, you sick son of a bitch.
“You’re the last man I would sell her contract to,” I said, my voice dangerously calm. I downed my brandy and gestured for the waitress for another. “I know what you do to your girls. You will never set a finger on Grace – not now, not after our contract is over, not ever. Is that understood?”
His eyes narrowed. “Once your contract is up, she’s a free woman. If I make her a sweet enough offer, it is her prerogative to accept.”
It was my turn to have a smug smile on my face. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but isn’t Risqué’s rental contract up for renewal? I’m getting obscene offers to put this location up for bid again.”
“My restaurant is highly successful,” Caleb said through his teeth. “You don’t have grounds not to renew.”
“That’s irrelevant. I have no contractual obligations to renew. If it’s you or another tenant, it makes no difference to me. I’ll still be making a killing.”
“Why the hell do you care so much about this girl?” Caleb asked, his hands fisting on the table. “Look at her.” He pointed with his chin towards Grace and Marcus. “She sure doesn’t seem to care about you right now.”
“What feelings I may or may not have for Grace are none of your fucking business, Caleb. Just stay the hell away from her.”
We were both looking at her when the third song ended. To my relief, they parted. Then the bastard leaned in and kissed her. My blood froze. Caleb chuckled and I cracked my knuckles.
“Well, maybe I’m not the one you should be worried about after all.”
Half the room watched Grace. She who thrived on attention didn’t notice, too lost in pretty boy’s eyes and words. They made a spectacle of themselves. Half the patrons glanced between them and me. A pureblood would have already beaten Marcus to a pulp then dragged Grace by the hair out of here. On Braxia, her punishment would be a bloody whipping.
She turned towards us, a dreamy smile on her face. When our eyes met, her smile slipped. Worry lines etched on her forehead, her steps faltering as she walked towards us. A quick look around the room seemed to increase her anxiety. She sat next to me, back stiff and eyes glued to my face.
“You look lovely as always, Grace,” Caleb said with a taunting smile. “That was quite the sweet reunion with your lover.”
Grace’s head jerked towards Caleb, a look of panic on her face. “He’s not my lover,” she said, her eyes flicking towards me.
Caleb waved dismissively. “Ex-lover, friend with benefits, it’s all the same. We’re adults. Venus Hive is after all about indulging fantasies.”
“Do not project your loose behavior on me, Mr. Jennings,” she hissed.
“I’m not—”
“That’s enough,” I interrupted Caleb. Time to put an end to this farce. Rising from my seat, I added, “Our business is concluded. We’re leaving.”
“Of course,” Caleb said with a slight bow. “I’m sure the rest of your evening will be most… entertaining.”
We left Risqué. This time, it wasn’t arousal I could smell on Grace, but fear.
It took us only ten minutes to walk from the restaurant to the penthouse. As always, the walkway bustled with activity as patrons went from one venue to another. At this time, most customers finished eating dinner and headed to one of the various entertainments available. Unlike the Commons where flashy signs and glaring advertisement were the norm, in the VIP section, everything was understated, with a quiet elegance. While on the walkways, patrons were expected to cover their more outrageous outfits, but pets could be leashed.
A few customers paused to greet us as we passed them. My expression made it clear I was in no mood to chat so they moved along.
As we neared the gleaming white entrance of the Venus Hive headquarters, Grace’s tension became palpable. She opened her mouth once or twice, as though to speak, then closed it.
I spent the entire walk debating which punishment was most fitting. On Braxia, a pureblood would flog her, twenty-five lashes with at least half of them breaking skin. The clan would place the offending female in a cage for three hours before tending her wounds. Depending on the severity of the offense, treatment didn’t guarantee painkillers. I dismissed that option.
