“Fuck,” the third one growls, gaze sliding between us like he’s choosing angles, “forget the stage—come to my place and let me see which one of you breaks first.” I toss my hair over my shoulder, a sharp smile tugging at my lips, their filthy words only feeding the fire in me.
Tonight, I’m not here to question, or beg for anyone’s love.
Tonight, I’m the damn show.
I glance their way, flash a teasing little smile, and lift my hand in a sinister wave without breaking my stride. Arina grins wide, soaking up the attention like she’s been waiting for it. She slides her fingers through mine, giving a deliberate squeeze before tugging me closer.“C’mon,” she says, flashing the guys a wicked smile. “Let’s not make ‘em pass out in the parking lot.”
At the door the bouncer gives us both a slow once-over, his gaze dragging from my white lace corset, to hers. No ID, no questions—just a smug little nod as he unhooks the rope.
“Mm-hmm,” Arina mumbles under her breath as we step past him, tossing her hair back. “That’s what I thought—I mean just look at us.”
Stuffy, warm air rushes out as the doors swing open, the bass punching through me, lights pulsing in a slow, seductive wave. The smell of liquor, cheap perfume, and money wraps around us like silk and temptation. The club swallows us whole. Girls move everywhere—sparkly skin gleaming under the lights, black lace and glittering thongs leaving nothing to the imagination.
On the main stage, a dancer climbs the shiny pole like she was born on it, flipping upside down, locking her legs tight as her hair sways in the air. Bills rain around her as she arches her back, hair swinging wild, owning every eye in the room.
Dancers glide between tables, hips rolling slow, whispering in ears that clearly don’t deserve them. Arina tugs me across the floor toward a velvet booth along the wall and slides in. I raise a brow, laughing as I sit across her. “Wait—you actually reserved a booth?”
She smiles, crossing one leg over the other, her dress inching higher. “Of course I did. You think we were about to fight for a table like everybody else? Please. I brought us torelax,not look like a groupie.”
I shake my head, grinning. “You’re ridiculous bitch, but you are right. I love the way you think.”
“Ridiculously fine—and you know I got you” she shoots back, flipping her hair with a smirk that can start trouble.
A bottle girl struts over in fishnets and a cropped sequin top, tray balanced in one hand. She leans against our booth, giving us a flirty once-over before pulling out her pen.
Arina doesn’t even blink. “We’ll start with a bottle of the good stuff—none of that watered-down house bullshit.”
The girl laughs. “I like your energy.”
“I know,” Arina says, unbothered, “everybody does.” I snort, adding my order after, and the girl winks at me before disappearing into the haze of flashing lights. Minutes later, she’s back—setting two crystal glasses down and placing the chilled bottle on the table.
“Enjoy, ladies,” she purrs, giving Arina’s chest one last look before gliding away.
Arina watches her go, smirk locked in place. “See? Even the girls can’t resist.”
I lift my glass, eyes glinting. “Girl, the blind wouldn’t be able to resist those things.”
My gaze sweeps the room until it lands on a gold-trimmed booth, bottles scattered across the table catching flashes of neon. The three fine men lounging clearly look like the night was built around them—designer fits, watches burning under the lights, drinks swirling slow in their hands.
And all three of them are staring straight at us.
It’s the kind of stare that feels like fingers tracing up your thighs without ever touching. Their eyes roam over us with a hunger they don’t bother hiding, savoring every inch clearly already deciding how the night will end.
One leans back, legs spread, tongue dragging over his bottom lip that’s anything but subtle. Another tilts his head, smirking around his glass, drinking me in longer than he sipshis liquor. And the third… he just watches. Focused like he’s stripping me bare from across the room, just to see how I’ll react.
The air between us shifts, like something invisible just hooked itself between the five of us and started pulling. Arina must feel it too. Her grin stretches, her fingers brushing mine as she mutters, “Well… looks like we’ve got ourselves an audience.”
I bite my lip, heat blooming low while the bass thrums through my chest, a knowing smile tugging at my mouth. “At least it’s a good one,” I murmur. “They can watch if they want.”
Suddenly the night doesn’t just feel alive—It shivers around us, begging to be touched.
Chapter Thirty Three
Saints andSinners
T
wo dancers glide toward our booth, every step dripping confidence. One’s in a neon-green bodysuit that glows under the blacklight, her long legs shining with body oil. The other wears a glittery silver thong and a rhinestone-covered bra that catches every pulse of light, throwing stars across her skin.
