"Sure, you’re not. Get some sleep. I'll see you in the morning."
The call ended, and I stared at the ceiling. Sleep wasn't coming. Not with her face haunting me. Not with the infuriating memory of her dismissal burning in my gut.
The room spun slightly from the alcohol, but my mind remained fixated on her. Thursday seemed both too far away and too soon. I'd show her exactly who was in control when she showed up at the club.
If she showed up.
The doubt crept in, unwelcome. What if she didn't come? What if this was just some game to her? Why did it even bother me?
"Fuck this," I muttered, reaching for my phone. I scrolled through my contacts, looking for a distraction. Someone who would come running at my call. But none of the names appealed to me.
Frustration raged through me and I chucked my phone across the room, where it hit the wall and landed on the floor with a two-beat thump. I stared at the ceiling again, my head pounding from frustration or the alcohol, I didn’t know. All I knew as that I needed to get my shit together before Thursday. I needed to be the one in control.
Chapter 7
Stuffingmyhandsintothe pockets of my jeans, I rocked back on my heels as I looked up at the sign that read “Paradise Club” in neon red script as a wave of pride at what my father had built went through me. He had put his heart and soul into this place for the last twenty years, and it had become one of the most elite establishments in Trenton. There was already a line around the corner of people waiting for security to see if their names were on the list.
Taking a deep breath, I walked past the men and women, who glared at me for jumping ahead of them, as I slipped behind the red-velvet rope at the entrance. I smiled when Gerald, who had been a bouncer here for the last five years, simply nodded at me as I tucked my elbows in and slid around him. Dramatic cello music flowed through the entryway, where a secondary checkpoint had been set up in front of another set of thick, wide, wooden double doors. Nonmembers would check in as guests with the members who’d brought them and would receive neon-yellow paper bracelets. Members would get their pins, which would be set to their preferred color for the night by our staff:red for unavailable, green for dom, yellow for sub, and white for those who identified as neither. This pin would allow them onto the third floor, where private rooms would be charged to their account, should they decide to utilize them.
At the counter was Gavriel. I’d been trying not to think about it the last few days, but here I was, business partners with the tall, impeccably dressed, egotistical piece of shit leaning against the wall, his arms and ankles crossed as he smirked at me.
“Hello, Ms. Perkins.” The perky brunette woman checking in members greeted me with a smile, which I returned, letting her finish with the woman in front of her, while out of the corner of my vision, Gavriel’s eyes narrowed slightly. Leaning on the polished wood and black metal counter, I could hear the rhythmic thump of the music through the walls.
“Good evening, Bri. I hope everyone behaves tonight.”
Curiously, her attention flicked to Gavriel before returning to me. “As always, ma’am.”
Knowing I couldn’t ignore the douchenozzle, now tapping his foot impatiently, any longer, I turned toward him, meeting his gaze with matching annoyed energy. His shoulder-length, brown, curly hair was pulled back, but a few strands had fallen loose, framing his face, giving him a sultry look. I was sure it worked for lots of women, but not me. Striding up to him, ignoring that I was almost a foot shorter than his six-five frame, I put my hands on my hips, almost daring him to start shit in front of the employees. He stood up straight, likely as an intimidation tactic, and his dark brown eyes bored into me for a long moment before his gaze trailed down and slowly back up my body.
“Are you done with your inspection? Have I met your approval, Your Highness?” Not that I really cared.
Another smirk lifted his lips before his eyebrow rose. “You couldn’t have come dressed more appropriately?”
“Ahhh, but I wore my good jeans and everything. You don’t like them?” I turned and pulled my leather jacket tight at my waist to show off what I thought was my best feature. “They make my ass look amazing.”
Someone behind me chuckled as he scoffed. “Oh, so you want to impress me? Well, listen here, kitten. I could have anyone in this building in a heartbeat.”
“First, don’t call me kitten.” I swung my arm out toward the door where you would enter the main establishment with a large dance floor, plenty of seating, and a full-service bar. “Second, I don’t need a man’s, especiallyyour, approval of how I dress. I can look good for myself. Third, if you can have any woman, then go have your women. I’m not stopping you.”
He reached out and fingered the collar of my leather jacket. “You think you look good in a pair of mediocre, ill-fitting jeans, worn boots, cheap silk, and a knock-off leather coat? You own a fucking sex club, kitten. You really should dress like it.”
Really? This is what you are going to focus on? It isn’t like Dad didn’t come in here with an off-the-shelf dress shirt, jeans, and sneakers most days. Yet, you are going to judge what I’m wearing?
Gavriel had always looked down on me. Treated me as if I were not worth being dirt on his shoes. I took a deep breath and let it out harshly through my nose. “Again, I don’t need or want your fucking approval. Now, let’s get upstairs and discuss the fucking club.” I paused before tilting my head to the side in question. “Or do you need to find someone to give you some post-nut clarity, so the blood can return to your brain?”
There was the slightest twitch of his lips at the corner before he turned, on his heel, and hurried into the hall. His long legs stretched the fitted navy suit he wore, and while I hated the man, his ass looked great in it. Watching him walk away was probably the best thing about him. He called for the elevator, and by thetime I caught up with him, the doors were opening. We stepped in, and when the doors closed, my chest tightened at the memory of the last time I’d been in here.
Had it only been a couple months since Gavriel’s men had banged on my door, demanding I come to the club to meet with Don Azzaro himself? As I’d ridden up to the third floor, a chill had run down my spine as dread had filled me. I’d known something had happened to my father, but no one had been talking.
Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath to push the memories away, only to be assaulted by the luscious smell of Gavriel’s clove and citrus cologne.
Fuck, why did he have to smell so fucking delicious?
No! His family was responsible for Dad’s death. There was nothing attractive about Gavriel Azzaro. Nothing.
My feet carried me blindly out of the elevator and down the hall until we were at what used to be my father’s office. Gavriel opened the door, and when I walked in, initially, all I could see was my father’s blood still coating the carpet. The smell of iron and something rotting filled the room. I could still feel Gavriel’s hands wrapped around my biceps to keep me from collapsing into the pooled blood as I demanded to know where my father’s body was. I’d turned to Don Azzaro and growled through my teeth when he’d told me I didn’t need to worry about it. That the family was going to take care of all expenses and how they were sorry for my loss.
“Elin.” Gavriel’s voice pulled me from my thoughts. I shook my head and looked around the office. The small bathroom just to the left when you walked in, the tiny closet, the hide-a-bed couch I’d spent many evenings on, and his bookshelves all had memories tied to my father. There were small signs of where he had been, but this place had also been rummaged through, no doubt purged of anything that could be incriminating. Walkingup to the built-in bookcase on the wall on the right opposite two windows, I ran my fingers over the shelves, noting the books that were gone. “I see you cleared out anything to do with the Azzaros.”
