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Leggings successfully removed, the only article of clothing remaining is my g-string. I slip a manicured fingernail under the thin strap, but Coty jolts to his feet, shocking me to a stop. Kal twitches, tempted, but remains seated.
“Enough,” Coty growls. “Clearly there was a misunderstanding, Prez.” He sneers at the title of his superior — and best friend.
“Sit down, Coty,” Kal states with a terrifying calmness.
I let out a slow breath and, while most eyes are directed toward them, allow myself to study all the men, trying to figure out what the hell is going on.
Kio is somewhat hidden in the shadows, his striking angled features more pronounced by the harsh lighting, and his dark and hooded eyes watchful. Terrifying for anyone outside of his inner circle.
Vee is rolling another joint, jacket sleeves pushed up to his elbows, revealing the rest of his tattoo — a curvaceous woman staring at the reflection of her skeleton in a mirror.
Baylor reclines, hand covering his jaw, attention darting back and forth between the two tense leaders. His copper hair and matching eyes shine under the flashes of lights, adding life to his apparent curiosity.
Zane is wound up as tight as the curls on his head, his fawny eyes wide and wild as he also tries to deduce what is happening.
Both Chaz and Brodi have incredibly hot gazes and very evident bulges in their pants; the drugs in their system make for an even more challenging voyeur experience, no doubt. Neither of them are cocksure enough at this moment to look me in the eye, though. Chaz pushes a hand through his long blond hair, his greenish-blue eyes hungry, and his knee bouncing. Brodi, his brown hair and eyes darker because of the hazy lighting, gnaws on the inside of his cheek, and his thumb rubs a line across his fingers over and over again.
My traveling gaze returns to Kal and Coty. Kal scratches through the stubble on his jaw. Coty never sat down, and he only has eyes for me even while fighting the silent battle waging between him and Kal.
Kal stands and takes two long strides forward until his thick riding boots touch my bare toes.
He raises his hand.
Havoc ensues.
Brodi launches upward to capture a lunging Coty. Zane pushes out of his seat and springs for Kal. Somehow, Kio saw it coming, in classic Kio fashion. His arms are around Zane, holding him back before Zane is even able to so much as breathe on the club President.
Kal keeps his hand raised in some sort of gesture, dictating a command to another member. My eyes flick around, seeking out who he called on.
Chaz pushes out of his chair and walks around behind the bar.
“I didn’t join the club to defile women!” Zane bellows, writhing against Kio.
Kal’s lips quirk up to the side, and he leans forward, dragging a finger along my jaw. “You want to tell him, or should I?”
I glare at him, roll my eyes, and peer toward the poor Chaplain. “No man can defile me, hun. I like sex too much.” My irritation toward Kal turns to amusement at Zane’s expense. “Thank you for being willing to protect me, though.”
Kio lets go of Zane, and Zane falls to his knees near my feet. Cheeks a swath of red, he flips over and scampers backward until his back hits a chair.
Chaz appears with a duffle bag in hand, lifting to place it in Kal’s still-upraised fist. The weight of the bag makes the veins in his hands pop slightly.
“We crunched some numbers,” he says, dropping the bag at my feet. “This should be triple the amount you’d make working for Stoney every day for a year. Consider yourself property of Hell for Leather for the unforeseeable future.”
“What?!” Coty rages, thrashing against Brodi. Baylor and Kio step in front of him to help, should the assistance be needed. Surprisingly, despite being a few inches shorter, Brodi seems to have Coty under control, hands in a locked hold across his chest.
“No,” I state, flashing my attention back to Kal and narrowing him with a glare, fear and nerves not quick enough for my knee-jerk response.
His long, dark-blond eyelashes blink once, and his lips curve into a dangerous smirk. “Think of the cash like a dowry, given to me from your previous owner. Out of the kindness of my heart, I want you to have it. This is not a request, Lace. Your contract is being amended.”
I shake my head emphatically, every flash of mood lighting streaking through my blurry eyes. “B-but… Foster owns my contract. H-he would never. Fozzy has never been anything but kind to me.”
Kal huffs and rubs a knuckle over his eye. “Foster is a master negotiator. He looks out for the best interests of all parties involved. Always has, always will. You never had indemnity. Come on, Lace, are you really that naive? Did you honestly think that you would just coast through life growing up in a whore house without ever becoming a contracted whore?”
The Universe shifts beneath my feet, and all my hopes and dreams rush from my head and heart down to between the slats in the wooden floor. “I… I like our previous arrangement. I like dancing.”
I have plans! I want to scream.
Please stop!I want to beg.
