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Someone bumped her from behind and she swayed into me, her expression changing at the erection she felt nudging her belly. Darkening. Her mouth opened and snapped closed, whatever words she wanted to say dying away.
That was just fine. I had enough to say for the both of us.
“Oh, and that date?” I tipped up her chin and smudged my thumb over the faint indent. She was a mixture of features that didn’t seem to go together. Dimples, cleft chin. Worry lines bracketed eyes that appeared as guileless as a summer day. “It was offered as a condition for fighting Mia. It didn’t happen, so no date. No anything.” I narrowed my eyes. “I don’t mess around with little girls, pet.” Condescension dripped from my words, my smile. “I’m sorry.”
Turning away from her, I aimed my smile at one of the waitress/dancers who had tried to get my attention more than once. Since I came to the club to see and be seen by the powerful men who would lead me to Roberto Andretti’s deceitful doorstep, I hadn’t reciprocated in kind.
Now she would work perfectly for what I had in mind.
I leaned close to her and cupped her cheek, deliberately touching her the same way I’d just touched Carly. “Meet me in the third VIP room. Five minutes.”
She nodded eagerly, her bright smile belying the dimness in her eyes. I hated seeing that look on the dancers’ faces, hated more that I’d been the cause of it for even a moment. This was soul-crushing work, and if most of the men here didn’t notice or care, that was on them. I would never be so shallow or careless. Getting my dick sucked wasn’t worth diminishing another human being, even if she pretended it wasn’t occurring.
Except when it came to Carly, and making sure she got gone. I’d do whatever that required.
I turned back to Carly, expecting for her to have disappeared. Instead, she watched me with slitted eyes, her arms crossed over her chest. She was breathing too fast, but she wasn’t walking away.
Christ. This woman.
“You intending on sticking around? I never mind an audience.” Deliberately, I lowered my hand to my crotch and gave it a slow rub. She didn’t balk, didn’t so much as flutter her thick dark lashes. Just watched.
And waited.
I swore again under my breath and pivoted to head up the spiral staircase that hugged one side of the main room of the club. Murals of writhing, naked bodies decorated the wall beside the stairs, adding one more layer to the lascivious atmosphere. It was the kind of place eighteen-year-old me wouldn’t have dreamed stepping into. Back then, I’d been into flowers, and a girl who giggled when I pinned daisies in her hair. Who lifted her face up to mine for a chaste kiss without closing her eyes.
A girl way too much like Carly for comfort. And goddammit, I wouldn’t watch Carly be destructed in the same manner. I wouldn’t allow her to be tainted by her want for me like Emilia had been.
I walked down the long hallway that overlooked the first floor. The vantage gave a bird’s eye view of the women tangled together onstage. One of them had stripped down to a G-string, and her oiled body shimmied against the other woman’s with enough eagerness to make the crowd cheer.
Swallowing my distaste, I turned away and pushed open the door to VIP room number three.
This wasn’t my scene. Hadneverbeen my scene. That boy who liked flowers still lived inside me, and he was horrified at the man I’d become. The man I’d willfully molded myself into. But Emilia was worth everything.
It wasn’t revenge if you were just evening the score.
Thankfully, the room was empty, though it wouldn’t have stopped me if it wasn’t. I would’ve paid the occupants to let me share the space with them. If it worked to send Carly running, it was worth it. And hell, my dick was hard. I was human. A pretty strawberry-blond rubbing all over me with lust in her eyes was enough to get me going just like any other man. This particular strawberry-blond affected me in ways I had to put a stop to.
This should do it.
Leaving the door cracked, I walked inside. Sconces on the wall offered scant light. A long leather sectional curved along one side of the room, offset with glass-topped tables with flickering candles. Across the space sat a daybed, made with plump pillows that no one would notice. This room was used for not-so-discreet fucks or variations thereof, and ambience didn’t matter.
The ridiculous boy inside me would scoff at that, just as he felt disgust at all the rest.
I sat at one end of the sectional and spread my arms along the back just like I spread my legs. I’d been in this room before, for meetings and more. I wasn’t a saint. No longer a saint, anyway. In my current milieu, the more tarnish, the better.
The waitress from downstairs slipped into the room and knelt between my knees. I cast a glance at the door, wanting to make sure I wasn’t doing this for nothing. Knowing full wellshewould follow, because she’d followed me from Brooklyn to Hell’s Kitchen. She wouldn’t go home unless she didn’t have any other choice.
She wasn’t there.
A part of me was relieved. Grateful even. I didn’t want her to see this. She shouldn’t be touched by any of it. But she wanted to suck down any experiences she could, and if she got a nasty enough gulp tonight, maybe she wouldn’t return.
I’d staked my hopes on bets with worse odds.
On the off chance Carly was still out there just beyond the scope of my vision, I gestured to the zipper barely containing my bulging cock, playing the king routine to full effect.
“What’s your name, sweetheart?” I asked, low enough that Carly or any voyeuristic types couldn’t hear. This moment would be just for us. A moment to smooth over what I could barely stomach.
Women weren’t meant to be used. Especially ones with sad dark eyes.
