Mitchell's grin widens. "Twenty thou for the girl. Cash. Her brother owes me two hundred k."
Chloe’s expression is shocked. Did she know how much Dylan had borrowed? How the fuck did the two of them end up owing a gangster like Mitchell Davert that much money? Dylan’s always been impulsive, but this is a shitshow.
My hands curled into fists, rage boiling inside me, but I tamp it down. It’s not the right time or the place, but this fucker will get what’s coming to him. But not in front of Chloe.
"Done." Tonight, Chloe leaves this dump. Tomorrow, I'll make Mitchell pay.
I call my associate Noah to deliver the cash while Chloe gathers her things. When she emerges in a flowery dress, looking so fuckable I have to grit my teeth, the envelope of money has already changed hands.
Mitchell gives me his oily smile. "I’ll expect the rest of the money before the end of the week or I get the girl back. Pleasure doing business, Marchetti."
“Wish I could say the same,” I turn and steer Chloe toward the exit with a hand on her back. We climb into the Bentley, Noah sliding into the driver's seat in front.
"Nice ride," her voice is subdued.
I glance over. "Wait until you see the club."
"What was all that about?" she asked. "Why did you pay him off like that? I was just dancing."
"It’s neverjust a dancewith Mitchell. He’s not someone I want you within a hundred miles of." The idea of him touching her makes me want to rip him apart. I study her in the dim light, taking in her innocent blue eyes, full lips, and the swell of her tits in that flimsy dress. Heat stirs in my gut and I clench the smooth leather of the seat to stop from doing something stupid, like dragging her onto my lap. This is the problem with her. I want to claim her, mark her as mine, dominate her and possess her in every way possible.
"You'll work at my club from now on."
"Yourclub?" She frowns. "I didn't know you had one. What's it called?"
"Paragon." I shift in my seat, acutely aware of her soft, freckled thigh so close to mine. "It's nicer than that dump. You'll like it there."
"Why are you doing this?" she whispered. "You disappeared for years, and now you're acting like you own me or something."
I turn away to stare out the window, watching the neon lights of the city blur together as the raindrops stream down the glass.
"I had to go. Can we leave it at that? The less you know, the better.”
Chloe stares at me for a second. "You can't just waltz back into my life and take over, Zeus. I won't let you."
I lean in close enough to catch her scent—something sweet and flowery that makes my chest tighten. "Is that so?"
She juts out her chin. "Yes. I'm not some toy for you to play with. I have my own life now, my own choices."
"Choices like dancing for scum like Mitchell?" I growl. A familiar rage rises in my chest, and I force myself to stay calm. She isn’t wrong; I have no right to control her. But the thought of her in danger from another man makes my blood boil.
"I do what I have to in order to make sure my brother and my Mom are safe," she shoots back. "Not that you know what’s been happening. I don’t expect you to understand." She runs her hand over her eyes.
I reach out and grasp her hand. She tenses but doesn’t pull away.
"I understand more than you think," I squeeze her small hand in mine. “Now, what’s happening with your Mom? I’m sorry she’s sick.”
Chloe sighs. “Her Crohn’s got worse. So her doctor put her on some new meds, they were working okay and then she had a bad reaction. She nearly died, and her insurance had lapsed. The medical bills are incredible and she’s still not well, they don’t know what’s wrong. I want to get her better care than our local hospital, Zeus. That’s why Dylan borrowed money against the restaurant and…you know the rest.”
“How the hell did Dylan get the money to open a restaurant in the first place?” I stroke her palm with my thumb and then stop myself.
“Mom’s brother, Uncle Eduardo, left it to her when he passed. Dylan always wanted to run his own place, so we went to the city to give it a try. Mom stayed back in Darlinton at the cafe.” She shrugs.
“And your dancing? What about that?” I place her hand on the seat to avoid further temptation.
She looks down. “I wanted to open my own dance studio. I was giving lessons at a local gym called Langstones. But the restaurant and then Mom’s sickness means that’s never going to happen.”
Noah clears his throat. We’re parked outside Paragon and neither of us had noticed. I get out and open the car door for her.
