But she wants me, and that ain’t ego talking.
Savage’s going to replace him someday, I’m fairly fucking certain of that. And I don’t give a shit. Savage has nothing but this club, just like Phantom. I’m stable where I am, and I plan on staying in the room with the brass VP plaque for a hell of a long time. And there’ll have to be an ice storm in hell before I put a ring on any woman’s finger. Doesn’t stop Penny from trying, though.
Being the old lady of the VP would come with status, perks. Put her high in the pecking order. Give her claim to the thing they all want more than anything—to be part of us. Of what this is.
Normally, on a night like this, I’d take Penny back to my room and let her drain me dry with her mouth, her pussy, anything and everything. I’d probably let her bring a friend or two like we’ve done a few times in the past. But tonight, she’s got jealousy written all over her face. Yet another reason I don’t let any of these women get too close.
I gently tug her hand out of my pocket. “Blade looks like he’s missing your company.”
She gives me a little pout, a slight twist of her lips, then cocks her chin. “At least somebody around here does.”
She tosses her long hair over her shoulder and sidles right back up to Blade, who is so immersed in talking to Jackie, I don’t think he even noticed Penny leave. Penny eyes me dangerously while she slides herself right up under Blade’s arms, snuggles against his chest, and pulls his face down for an openmouthed kiss.
Good fucking riddance.
Penny can be a petty bitch, but that’s one of the things I actually like about her. She says what she thinks, and she takes what she wants.
As she sucks Blade’s face, I can’t help but think of Violet.
I wonder if she’s naked in my room right now. I shake off the thoughts. She’s too fucking innocent. That sundress, those sweet green eyes. As much as I want to see what she looks like staring up at me, her lips wrapped around my cock, I don’t go for damsels in distress. They’re always way more trouble than they’re worth. I shove aside any curiosity I may have. I’m done playing Boy Scout. It’s time to get fucked up.
The beer in my hand is getting warm, and I need something stronger. I head over to the bar and hand the beer to a prospect who’s three deep in line. “Drink that,” I tell him, then cut to the front of the line and lean my elbows on the bar.
“You back for a good time, baby?” The bartender, Stella, leans on her elbows too, as if expecting me to unzip my pants at the sight of her tits.
I pinch my brows between two fingers. “Gimme a whiskey.”
“Comin’ right up, Shadow.” The way Stella says my name makes my skin fucking crawl.
It’s as if the walls are closing in. The heat, the people, the noise. I’m not in the mood for any of this tonight.
Phantom is leaning against a wall by the front door, talking to Viper, our enforcer, and glaring over the crowd.
Just then, some woman slips, twisting her heel on something sticky on the floor. She squeals so loudly, I nearly jump outta my skin. She’s on the floor laughing, but a loud snap of Viper’s fingers and two prospects jump from the card game they are playing to help her up.
“Clean that shit.” Viper doesn’t need to finish the sentence before the prospects are scrambling for a mop and bucket.
Stella comes back with a glass of whiskey, and she starts in on me again. “Shadow, if I’d known you were interested in babysitting, I’d have worn my little-girl dress too.”
I grab the glass and down it in one chug, the liquor burning its way down my throat. I flare my nostrils and slam the empty glass down on the bar. “Gimme another,” I say. But before Stella can turn around to refill me, I tell her, “Fuck that. Gimme the bottle.”
“Hmmm, somebody’s looking to have a good time tonight.”
I practically wrench the bottle from her hands and turn away from her. I scan the smoky room, looking for any place to sit that doesn’t have people fucking or talking or playing or generally being shitheads.
No such luck.
The lights flicker off and on again, and I think of Violet, back in the relative quiet of my room. Helpless, terrified, innocent Violet.
I make a snap decision. Grabbing the bottle of whiskey, I head down the corridor. When I reach my room, I pound on the door.
“Violet, it’s me. Open up.”
It takes about ten seconds before I hear the dead bolt turn. She opens the door a crack and peeks out.
“Yes? Is everything all right?” She’s looking exactly the same as she did when I left her—wet, dressed, and terrified.
“That’s what I’m here to find out.” I hold up the bottle. “I brought something a little stronger than the beer.”
