I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from guffawing. Not that I necessarily faulted him for the assumption. We were in a night club, and I was dressed in a slinky little holographic pink dress that barely covered my ass and ridiculously high black heels, so I didn’t blame him for thinking I was a stripper from the club. Posing as a piece of arm candy for Jerel was a common tactic I used when dealing with people who didn’t request me by name. I liked to be present for the conversation, but had Jerel sub in for me since mobs are fucking sexist and many of the old guys refused to deal with women on principle. And it was entertaining in situations like this, where I got some duper’s delight from guests who thought I was just a piece of ass.
It was still fun to smirk at him from behind my mask. Just to piss Grant off even more, I slid around the desk and plopped myself right on Jerel’s lap to wrap my arms around his shoulders. He was totally unfazed, placing a hand on my waist in a relatively safe and appropriate area. And he knew I would tear it off at the elbow if he touched me wrong. I’d done it to others for much less than an errant hand.
“She stays. If you have a problem with that, you can fuck right on out of here,” Jerel’s response rumbled low in his chest, his bear primal stirring beneath his skin to add some depth to the intimidation factor.
To Grant’s credit, he didn’t fold under Jerel’s heavy glower. He adjusted his tense posture in an attempt to be more aloof and unaffected, trying his hardest not to look at me draped all over my bodyguard. “I dislike dancing around the subject, so I will say outright that I know this club is operated by the Red Riot. I’d like to set up a meeting with the boss to discuss some potential business opportunities with DeNiro Technologies. Hopefully, coming unarmed and with honest intentions will be enough for you to pass along my information? If I can even start with a phone call, I’ll take it.”
Jerel scoffed. “You have some impressive balls, coming into a supposedly mob-owned club and asking me to be your fucking go-between. What makes you think I’m not the boss?”
One of Grant’s thick black eyebrows rose over the frame of his glasses. “No offense? I’d assume you would have a lot more security. They wouldn’t have let me in at peak business hours for meetings without an appointment, and I have it on good information that the leadership is Irish, of which you are definitely not. And beyond all that,” Grant crossed his arms and leaned back, legs spread wide in the perfect picture of ease. He took another deep breath in through his nose before continuing. “You’re some kind of Ursidae shifter—my guess is grizzly bear from your size—and while I’m sure you’re formidable in your shifted form, your type is not well known for being in this kind of leadership role. But I’m sure you are well established in the hierarchy and are likely in charge of security, judging from the rest of the bear shifters staffed here.”
Jerel leaned back with me still in his lap, clearly impressed as an amused smirk pulled at his lips. I moved my face into the crook of his neck to giggle softly. He probably felt my shoulders shake trying to contain myself, because he gave my hip a couple of taps in warning.
“You’re a sharp man,” he praised Grant with a chuckle. “And definitely closer than you think to hitting the mark. But I’m the nearest to the top you’re going to get tonight, so hand over whatever you want, and I’ll consider passing it up.”
My legs crossed, and I tightened my hold around Jerel a little, making my dress creep up my thighs and drawing Grant’s eye to the movement like a magnet. His mouth twisted in distaste, but he pulled a card from his pocket and slid it over the desk with two fingers.
He kept it pinned beneath them like some kind of little power play. He was refusing to back down easily.
Jerel nudged me with his shoulder, acting like he wanted me to pick it up because the action was beneath him. I could tell he was really enjoying playing this guy, too. Slowly, I leaned over to slide the card up from beneath Grant’s fingers with a sharp jerk. He was certainly getting an eyeful with my cleavage front and center, but my attention was set on the card printed on thick stock with the letters slightly indented in its surface. All it had was his name, Grant Black, and a phone number printed in black, stark against the creamy ivory of the paper. Grant eyed me like he didn’t trust me to even hold the damn thing.
“Can you make sure you don’t lose that?” he grumbled. I wished he could see my taunting smile as I slipped the card right between my tits. Grant looked to Jerel almost as if he was pleading with him to take it from me, whom he deemed less responsible.
Kent already had his backpack in hand, standing beside the chair as Grant rose from it. He snatched the bag by a strap and swung it over his shoulder while jamming the other hand back in his pocket.
Jerel waved his free hand. “Message received. Now get out.” His other hand landed on my ass with a solid swat, prompting me to rise from his lap. “Be sure he makes it to the front door,woman. Don’t get lost shaking your ass on the dance floor on the way back.”
Oh, Jerel was really committing to the bit for this one. Even Kent’s eyebrow lifted slightly at his crude command. Fortunately, Grant’s back was turned to him as he shrugged the backpack on. With a mocking salute, I sashayed around the heavy wooden desk to come alongside Grant and loop my arm around his elbow. His entire body stiffened as if I’d electrocuted him.
“It was a pleasure,” he spat out. “I can see myself out.”
With jerky movements, he shook himself loose from my light grasp and shoved past Kent to leave the office. I shrugged and waltzed back to prop a hip against the side of the desk within arm’s reach of Jerel, while he tilted the chair back and clasped his hands across his stomach. Kent beat him to the door and held it shut, waiting for Jerel’s silent cue to let him out. Grant shot a dark glare over his shoulder. “I thought you wanted me to leave.”
“One more thing.” Jerel’s eyes narrowed on him, his face the perfect picture of a hardass mob boss. “Next time you disrespect my woman,” he jerked his head toward me, “I’m taking a finger as payment. You’d better hope I only choose something useless, like a pinky.”
The corner of Grant’s lips curled for the briefest second in a silent snarl. “Only if she keeps her fucking hands to herself.”
I rolled my lips in a desperate attempt to stifle the laughter again. This guy was just too much fun to fuck with. Jerel’s eyes shifted to me, and I silently shrugged my agreement to let him go. “She can put her hands wherever she wants, but I’m sure someone with a stick up their ass like you would bore her pretty fast,” Jerel waved at Kent, who pulled the door open and stepped aside to let Grant through. “If we want to talk, we’ll be in touch.”
As soon as the door clicked shut, I shoved Jerel’s head to the side and finally let go of the cackle I’d tried so hard to keeplocked up. An answering grin spread across Jerel’s broad lips. “Damn, that was the most fun I’d had in a while,” he sighed and dropped back into the chair. “What do you think he wants?”
I shifted from the desk to steady myself on my skyscraper heels. Next, the mask came off, and I tucked it back into the drawer to swap it out with my phone. The screen lit up as soon as I lifted it, and I meandered around the desk toward the napkin my date wrote his number on. Deftly typing the digits in, I shot off a brief "it's Lorelai" message along with a winking emoji.
Allan Charleton, he'd written as his name. The chat pinged almost immediately, showing a rather disappointing picture of a sad little dick he likely thought was tempting. From the blurry background, I guessed he took the picture in the men’s bathroom of the club.
How tacky, taking dick pics and sending them to me under my own roof.
“Who knows? But I’ll get Taylor to put a tail on Mr. Black for a couple of days before responding. Let him stew and see who he runs back to for his report.”
Jerel stood and reached over his head, arching his back in a deep stretch before peeking over my shoulder—damn him for still being taller than me even with my four-inch boost from the heels—to see who I was texting. “Was that the guy from earlier? Also, that’s a sad dick.”
I barked a laugh and chucked the phone into my tiny clutch. “Uh-huh.” It was hard to control the smile on my lips from turning unhinged, thinking of all the things I wanted to do with him. All the delicious, messy, depraved things.
“I’ll call the driver.”
“Thanks, boss!” I teased. Jerel snickered and held his fist out for a bump before leaving the room, pulling his own phone from a pocket inside his suit jacket.
Tonight was shaping up to be a lot of fun.
