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CHAPTER 10
CELINE
Iwas fuming when I walked into my house.
I set Rose down on the floor, threw my bag onto the floor, and stomped over to Marcus’s room. I wanted to kick it in like Wonder Woman, but I reminded myself that I planned to keep this discussion civil. So I knocked on the door. Fine, I banged on the door.
Marcus opened the door and stared at me warily.
“You’re home early,” he said.
“I am,” I agreed. “My shift got over sooner than it normally does because, for some reason, my boss refused to give me any lap dances. Would you happen to know anything about that?”
He sighed and ran a hand through his hair as he smiled at me sheepishly.
“I might have overreacted a bit when I heard someone asking for a lap dance,” he admitted.
I reached out and shoved him hard.
“Is this a fucking joke to you, Marcus? This is my livelihood you’re messing with! Do you know how much I make in tips from lap dancing? How dare you interfere with my work like this? I was a laughingstock in the green room tonight. All the dancers went out for lap dances except me. And Bo wouldn’t explain anything. What the fuck did you say to him?” I cried.
I didn’t know what Marcus had told Bo, but he had no business listening to him. Marcus tried to speak, but I didn’t let him get a word in.
“You listen to me, you holier-than-thou, silver-spooned bastard! I have a daughter to raise and debts to pay. I don’t care if you don’t like to see me twerking over some other man. You are not my boyfriend, and you have no right to stop me from working. Is that clear?”
“Crystal clear,” he bit out, going red. “And for what it’s worth, I didn’t stop you from giving lap dances. I just bought all your dances for the near future. And I have to admit that like everything I’ve done since I met you, I didn’t think it through. I paid Bo the price of the dances, but I didn’t account for the loss of your tips. I’ll make it up to you, Celine. I’ll pay you whatever you make every day in tips.”
“You can’t buy your way out of everything, Marcus,” I screamed. “I don’t need your charity. You can’t just throw money at me every single day and expect me to be happy about it. Do you not realize how demeaning that is?”
“How is it demeaning when it is exactly what every man in the club was doing today?” he demanded.
“Because Iearnedevery single dollar they threw at me. I came about all those tips honestly, through my hard work. And now I’m just supposed to accept your largesse because you don’t like to see me dance for other men? Who the fuck do you think you are?”
“I’m the man who’s just bought hundreds of lap dances from you, Celine,” he said harshly. “You want to work? Fine! Dance for me. Every single day. After you get back from the club.”
I wanted to smack him in the face because did he think he couldbuyme like a whore? I’d rather starve than take his money. Ever since he’d walked into my house, he had treated me like a charity case, and I was done with it.
“Get out of my house,” I ordered.
“Excuse me?”
“Get out. Now! I don’t need your protection, and I don’t need your charity. I’ll face Arjun on my own, and I will deal with my boss on my own. You can take your high and mighty ass back to your palace and forget all about me,” I snarled.
“Fine! I don’t need your attitude, either. All I’ve ever done is try to help you, Celine. And all you’ve ever done is be a brat about it.”
“I don’t need your help, you pompous ass,” I cried.
Marcus’s eyes turned to flint as he glared at me.
“You’ve made your point, Ms. Kramer. I’ll be out of your house in ten minutes,” he said coldly before he slammed the door in my face.
Asshole.
I wanted to stand under a hot shower until all my stress melted away, but it was never destined to happen. While Marcus was packing, I got started with Rose’s dinner and was grilling some chicken in a pan when the doorbell rang. I checked the video and was surprised to find Brandon at my door.
When I swung the door open, he pushed past me and strode into my house like he owned it. I wondered what I’d ever seen in the man. He was nothing but a bully. And I had no patience with his posturing.
“What do you want, Brandon?” I asked impatiently.
