“I’m claiming her. Millie Monroe is my old lady.”
Bullet’s lips curve up into a grin. Obviously, this was what he wanted. “And you’ll be moving her home?” he asks.
I snort. He doesn’t need to know my plans. “I’ll text you my schedule and hers,” I state.
I walk toward the door without saying another word. He calls out my name. As I reach out for the knob, I stop in my tracks, looking over my shoulder back at him.
“Happy for you, brother.”
Rolling my eyes to the ceiling, I hide the smile that threatens to pull at my lips. I’m not going to count my chickens before they hatch. She might tell me to fuck completely off, but she’s who I want. She’s mine. She’s always been mine. I’m keeping her.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
MILLIE
Bennet callsout my name as soon as I walk into the club. The Gilded Room isn’t as glittery and sexy, fully lit, as it is at night. It completely loses all of the sex appeal the moment the house lights are turned up. Which is sad because it is a really cool space.
As I move toward Bennet, I notice that Anna is there, along with the rest of the girls, and four bikers I recognize. Their gazes slide right through me, as if they don’t even register that they know who I am.
I know they do, though.
There is no way those men don’t sit around and gossip. I know they do. I used to hear them. They are worse than women. So I’m under no illusion that they don’t know exactly who I am and what I do here.
But if they want to feign ignorance, so be it.
Bennet begins introductions, and I stay in the back, listening to everything. The girls are introduced to the Vicious Reaperswhile Anna watches with what I can only describe as an expression of pure terror on her face.
I feel the need to comfort her, but I stay where I am, my gaze straight ahead as the men discuss who, what, and when they’ll be taking over. They start tonight. They’ll have one man at every entrance, two men on the floor where the customers are, another man in the hallway where the private rooms are located, and then another near the side of the stage.
That’s six men.
“Six seems excessive,” I state.
Everyone completely stops speaking, and I feel all eyes on me. As someone who dances on stage, I should probably not be bothered by the way they’re all watching me. By the way they’re staring at me questioningly, waiting for me to continue.
Clearing my throat, I shift from one foot to the other before I continue. “Six just seems like a lot of security. Is there a reason for it?”
Viking is directly across from me, and he snorts at my question. “For the moment, yes, there’s a reason.”
His gaze is focused on mine. It doesn’t move, and I can tell it’s because of me. The extra security is for me. I wince under his scrutiny. I hate that. I don’t want him or any of them to hate me because I brought this shit on myself.
Nodding once, I take a step backward, turn from them, and walk away and toward the dressing room. I don’t need to feel any guiltier. I know this is my fault. And I know that Dante is going to come here and start shit.
If anyone gets hurt, it’ll be my fault, too.
All of it.
This is exactly what I didn’t want. And yet it’s exactly why I’m here at the same time. At my station, I tug my chair out and sink down. Flicking my gaze up to the mirror, I take in my reflection for a moment. I don’t like the way I look.
I’m not wearing any makeup. I appear pale, and there are dark circles beneath my eyes. I felt exhilarated and worn out at the same time, in the best ways possible, before I arrived. I don’t feel that way anymore. I’m not sure what sensations are rushing through me, but they’re not of love and light. More like guilt and anxiousness.
There is a light knock on the door, and I look over my shoulder to see Viking walk into the room. He stops a few feet away but doesn’t speak immediately. Standing, I lean my ass against the vanity, gripping the edges at my hips as I stare at him.
He laughs softly, shaking his head a couple of times. “You got into some shit, babe. Big shit.”
I open my mouth, then close it again, pressing my lips together tightly. I’m not sure how to proceed. I feel beyond guilty. So beyond guilty. I’ve caused a whole host of issues.I should never have come back here.
“Yes, you should have, but you should have come straight to the clubhouse and told us all we were dealing with a Vegas mob boss who was going to be showing up on our front porch.”
