The pressure built for him. I could feel it in the way he swelled, the erratic thrusts. I leaned in, biting his earlobe, whispering dirty encouragements. "Come for me, Enzo. Let go."
That did it. He stiffened, a guttural moan tearing from his throat. Hot spurts painted my thighs, his release messy and abundant, coating us both. He kept thrusting through it, milking every drop, until he finally stilled, chest heaving.
The room stayed quiet for a long time after. Just our ragged breaths tangling in the dim red light. His arm still circled my waist, loosening slowly after a few seconds.
Enzo turned me around, my back to him.
Sweat sheened his face, black strands stuck to his forehead. His breathing hadn't fully steadied, but that cold mask was back.
He reached into his jacket, pulled out a wad of cash, then leaned over and stuffed it into my cleavage.
"Tip," he said, pulling back and standing.
I stepped aside as he rose—he towered over me, forcing my head back to meet his eyes.
He fixed his clothes, buttoned up, rolled sleeves down, and fastened cuffs. Every move calm, like nothing had happened. I glanced down at myself—wrecked, like I'd been fucked a dozen times. Understatement.
Enzo walked to the door and opened it. Hall light flooded in. Shadows outside—goons, club girls, Silvio's face peeking through the crack. Enzo paused, turned to the manager, words quiet but clear to all.
"Too bad, her skills are pretty average."
Door shut, footsteps faded.
I knelt on the sofa, knees numb, thighs aching. The cash in my chest poked my collarbone, edges scraping with each breath.
I chewed over his parting shot in my head. Then muttered a curse under my breath.
Fuck, that vindictive bastard. And he's the father of my kid.
I kept mentally ripping into Enzo, that asshole, when a cold laugh came from the door. I looked up, straight into Silvio's creepy face. His grin chilled me to the bone.
My stomach twisted.
Shit, new trouble.
Chapter Seven
Chloe
Silvio leaned against the doorframe, hands shoved in his pockets, head tilted as he studied me. His eyes slid from my face to my neck, from my neck to my chest, traveling down until they landed on the wet stain across my thigh.
He whistled.
Looking at Silvio's smile made me feel sick and scared at the same time.
Silvio. Middle-aged with a beer gut. Manager of the strip club. A man who'd spent years using his power to grope and intimidate the girls who worked here.
And the bastard who killed Casey.
He was the last person I wanted to be alone with in this club, especially after he'd started showing interest in me lately.
"What a shame." Silvio dragged out the words, a smile on his lips that made my skin crawl. "Looks like the big boss wasn't too pleased with you."
I ignored him and tried to squeeze past. But he threw an arm up against the doorframe, blocking my exit. He reeked of cheap cologne and sweat. It made me want to puke.
"Move."
"That how you talk to me? Looks like you need to learn some manners." Silvio dropped his arm from the doorframe and reached toward me.
