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We’ll have to work on it.
And within the next ten minutes, I’ve got Willow on my lap, twisting her ass against my limp dick, her skin smelling of vanilla and honey. It’s much easier to think with my favorite dancer working me better than the pole. Easier to focus on the moment and narrow my vision.
Willow is as slender as one of the branches of the tree she’s taken her stage name from, her hair shorn into a honey-blond shag that accentuates the lean lines of her face. I’ve fucked her a few times in the past before I brought her to The Painted Hippo as a dancer. She’s a willing partner, eager and supple. Just as talented on her back as she is on the stage.
Today, the allure just isn’t there.
Not after last night, and I halfway wonder if it will ever be there again.
I keep my attention on the phone, sending off a rapid-fire succession of commands to the men beneath me, those ready and in place for this very moment. My opposite hand rests on the swell of her hips.
“Do you know where Isabella is?”
The male voice whispers against my ear, and I might have dropped my hold on Willow’s hip to grab my gun had I not recognized Carter’s aftershave an instant later.
“I’m her keeper?” I try not to let him see the way I want to jump out of my skin.
Willow feels it, however, and shifts her position so that her legs splay on either side of mine and her tits press against my chin. She executes an insane backbend where her forehead nearly touches the ground.
And there is Carter glaring at me as if his life depends on it. Or maybe my life depends on his mercy. “You are when you basically appointed yourself her guardian. Especially when Mia noticed the not-so-subtle foot action between the two of you the other night. When her sister offers excuses and fails to return home, well, Mia sees it all, Ricardo. You forget.” He sounds proud of his wife, though. Her skills.
He has every right to be proud. Mia is a bulldog in the body of a delicate little Italian woman. She practically has venom in her veins instead of blood.
“I forgot about nothing. Everything is taken care of,” I assure Carter, moving my attention back to Willow and the shaking tassels plastered to her nipples.
“Is it, though?” Carter sounds skeptical.
“Of course it is. When have I not delivered on everything you’ve ever wanted from me, Pops?” I ask.
Carter sneers. “Don’t fucking call me that.”
“Why not? I’ve always called you that.” I shoot him a shit-eating grin.
“And I’ve let you get away with a lot, but now it’s not time to fuck around, Ricardo. This is game time.” His bright blue eyes bore into mine.
“You think I don’t understand? You think I’m still a fucking child? Or worse.” My smile grows when Willow wraps her hand around the back of my neck and leans back, arching her back. “You think I’m Vincent.”
“Did I make the comparison?”
“You don’t have to. I know exactly what you’re doing and why you’re here today. Here I thought you were too busy running your empire to watch me like a hawk,” I retort. “Not to mention you’re busy with your new competitor. Have you gotten any more information on your best friend and mine?”
Carter shifts, and the same meek little server heads our way to take Carter’s order, recognizing his authority immediately. He waits for a moment before casting his attention on the stage and keeping it there instead of looking at me.
“We have it handled. We know what and who we’re up against,” he starts.
“Correction. I have it handled. You said you wanted to trust me with more responsibility beyond being a pretty face. And for your information, I dropped Isabella off at the house less than an hour ago, and I’ve been here ever since. If you lost her, then she’s your problem.” I flash Carter a wider, cockier grin. “She’s supposed to be at h?—”
I’m not expecting him to lunge forward and punch me in the fucking chin.
The force sends Willow screeching off my lap as I tip over the side of the chair and land on my knees. Pain immediately erupts from the area and spreads along my jaw and down my neck. I spit, and the globule is colored with blood.
“The fuck?” I yell.
Carter is on his feet in a moment, and although the rest of the club continues, a certain hush has fallen over the space, as though even the music has dimmed to allow this conversation to be overheard. The girl dancing on stage wastes no time before launching into her routine with renewed vigor.
“I don’t care if you and Isabella want to set the sheets on fire on your own time. But you know the deal with it comes to her. You know she needs to be absolutely protected from our crap. You know that.”
“Hold on. You already told me on the phone you think we’re fucking. So why would you come here now?” I swipe my hand across my mouth, and the back of it comes away smeared with crimson. “You’ve never given a shit who I take to my bed before.”
