The Bloke (Men Under Revue #1)

22. Sienna

Chapter 22

Sienna

I remembered that night behind Fallout vividly.

The man who was grinding up against me on the dance floor before escorting me out into the back alley.

His hand creeping up my leg even though I told him no and attempted to push him away.

Colby’s eyes when he exited the shadows that kept him hidden from view.

The look of anger and betrayal before he stabbed his knife through the man’s throat, spraying his blood and killing him instantly.

He still hadn’t brought that night up once.

Was he bothered by what happened? Worried that I saw him differently for what he had done? Did he believe I was scared of him or feared what he would do if I left?

That night had replayed in my head on repeat, and my impression of him never changed. I didn’t know why, but for some strange reason, seeing him that unhinged, with blood covering his hand and streaked throughout his hair…

It turned me on—a protector in his element right before my eyes.

I should have been mortified; any sane woman would have. But I wasn’t, and I didn’t know if that made me all the more fucked up for it.

Would he see me differently if he knew exactly how I felt that night? If he knew the dark thoughts that ran through my head as I imagined holding that knife myself instead.

“Oh, Sienna…” I sighed, grabbing a pillow and covering my face with it, inhaling my husband’s comforting scent of teakwood and leather. Fuck, I love how good he smells.

There wasn’t a doubt in my mind when it came to my burning desire for Colby. He could be a deranged serial killer, and I’d still want him just as bad.

“Oh god, woman, you’ve really gone off the deep end, haven’t you?” I groaned into the plush pillow before rolling onto my side and tucking it under my head.

I reached forward and picked up my phone from the bedside table, checking the time. Eleven. Had it really been over two hours since he left already? His show would have ended at ten, meaning he would be home soon, that is unless he had to stay behind for other reasons.

Searching through my recent contacts, I found Chyler’s number. Staring at my screen, I debated texting her. I knew she hoped I wouldn’t ever need her, but I just wanted to be reassured that I was making the right decision—that I wasn’t losing my mind over an unhinged man I had just met and married in a single night.

Me: Chyler…

A few minutes passed after I sent the message, and I dropped my phone on the bed with a deep sigh of defeat. She was probably ignoring me, cutting ties just as I did with Lily. I wouldn’t blame her for wanting to leave her life here behind; I sure as shit did it when I had the chance.

My phone vibrated on the bed, and I quickly picked it up to see a new text from Chyler on the lock screen.

Chyler: Don’t tell me... Do you love him?

Me: Am I that obvious?

Chyler: Girl, I’ve known you for almost five years.

Chyler: Of course you are!

Me: What do I do?

Chyler: Fuck if I know.

Well, that wasn’t helping… W hile texting with Chyler, out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of two elegantly wrapped boxes on the dresser. They were beautiful—expensive. I couldn’t help but roll my eyes as I thought those fucking better not be for me.

Chyler: Do. You. Love. Him?

Me: Does it matter? I don’t know…

Me: It hasn’t even been two weeks.

Chyler: If you love him, and he loves you, nothing else matters. Fuck what anyone else thinks.

Me: Thanks…

Chyler: Bye bitch.

I laughed at her last message before locking my phone and dropping it on the bed again.

Did I love him?

There were strong feelings that pulled at my heart last night. Feelings I haven’t felt before for anyone. Could I?

Laying on my stomach and squeezing the pillow under my chin even tighter, I stared out the sliding glass door at the bright lights emanating from the Strip, my eyes growing heavy with exhaustion.

I wanted to stay up and wait for my husband to return home from work, but I was so tired, and sleep eventually dragged me under before I ever heard him enter the room.

I woke with strong arms wrapped around my middle and a warm body pressed up against my back.

When I went to sleep last night, I felt a pit in my stomach. I wondered if Colby would sleep in the living room and start avoiding me all over again, that the past two days were nothing more than a fever dream created by my imagination.

It was comforting to know that nothing had changed, at least in terms of his proximity to me, and I snuggled myself against him, my ass grinding against his already hard cock.

“Keep doing that, and you’ll be late for work.” He mumbled with a long groan, stretching his arms out before wrapping them back around me.

I rolled to face him, his eyes still closed.

“What if I want to be late?” I teased with a smirk, raising my hand to caress his cheek and running my thumb along his stubble.

His eyes flared open from the touch, and his bright blues swallowed me whole as he lifted his body over mine, pressing me into the mattress with his weight, his hips roughly grinding between my thighs.

“Then I’ll make you late the whole fucking day, love.” He growled, capturing my mouth with his. “Is that what you want? Because it sure as fuck is what I need right now.”

I moaned into his mouth, my lower belly tensing from his words and the feeling of his hard cock pressed up against it. I could feel his Jacob’s ladder through his boxers as he rolled his hips, dragging his length along my clit.

“I haven’t called in sick since I opened, and while I want your cock more than anything...” I sucked in a breath, trying to hold myself together, which was no easy feat considering the man on top of me. “I’m not ready to break that streak.”

He bit my bottom lip before pulling back to stare into my eyes. I was panting in desperation for him, like a bitch in fucking heat.

Colby remained quiet as he continued to search my eyes, and I couldn’t help but frown, my brows creasing.

“You need to open up to me if you want this to work,” I stated, trailing my hand to the back of his head, playing with his soft, messed-up bedhead while the other gripped the back of his shoulder from under his arm.

He sighed, dropping his head down to the pillow and burying his face in the crook of my neck, his warm breath doing nothing to cool my flushed skin. Colby always had me burning for his touch.

“Where do you want me to start, love?” He mumbled into the pillow, and I tilted my head to rest against the side of his.

This conversation wouldn’t be easy for either of us, but I was prepared to keep an open mind. I was sure I had already seen the worst—I hoped.

“Fallout,” I answered, considering my next words. "Why was it so easy for you to kill that man in the alley?” I knew the answer; I saw it in his eyes that very night. But I wanted to hear him say it, to tell me that he did it for me.

“There are two answers to that question…” Colby spoke as he lifted his head to meet my eyes, shifting his weight to the side. He fell back onto the bed and pulled me up against his chest as if I were about to bolt from the room at his following words.

“One, he was touching you, and that alone drove me over the edge.” He ground out through a clenched jaw, his eyes shifting across the room as he recalled the events of that night. “And two… I was ordered to.” He hesitated with the last part, glancing back at me nervously as he spoke.

“You get orders to kill people?” I asked, simply curious. Why was I not surprised or phased by this? “Are you some kind of contract killer? Is that why you can afford all of this?” It would explain a lot. There was no way a simple male revue dancer and bartender could make enough to live a life this luxurious.

Suppose my suspicions were right about him.

“No.” He chuckled, gently running a hand through my hair and massaging my scalp as he did so. “I’m not a contract killer… but occasionally I have to perform jobs like one.” He sighed, breaking our eye contact to stare up at the ceiling.

“I don’t understand—”

“I’m a member of a secret society…” He started, sighing heavily with the burden his words carried. “We run the Strip, and the jobs are both to maintain order and keep the revenue flowing.”

“How did I not know this?” I shook my head in disbelief.

After living here for over five years, how could I not know that a secret society like this even existed?

“It’s not common knowledge. Only those who belong know its existence and how to identify its members.” Colby held up his right hand with the black ring, and I looked down at my wedding ring. They were made from the same black stone. Obsidian.

That explains a lot, actually…

“You don’t seem too phased by any of this information.” He voiced, taking my hand in his and interlacing our fingers together.

Did it phase me? I was shocked, I’ll admit, but was I really? I knew something was sketchy with his penthouse and everything that had gone on between us.

Was my reaction, or lack thereof, a red flag? Should I have been more perturbed by his words?

“I—No… I’m not.” I stammered, looking from our joined hands back up at him. “Is that bad?”

He laughed with what sounded like relief, relaxing into the pillows and squeezing my hand lightly.

“Love, absolutely nothing you could think or do would be bad. Not in the least.” He rubbed his thumb around the back of my hand. “I thought you’d be halfway out the door by now if I’m being honest…”

“What if I told you I thought the same thing about you?”

Colby huffed with a soft smile, shifting his grip and pressing a kiss to the palm of my hand.

“There is something that might change your mind…” He swallowed, contemplating continuing with his train of thought.

“Go on…” I encouraged. “It can’t be that bad.”

Whatever he had to tell me, I could handle. What could be worse than being married to a man who murdered problematic people?

“When we are initiated into the secret society, we must complete three tests, all of which entail spilling blood.” He paused, waiting for any kind of reaction from me, and when I said nothing in return, he continued, “As a wife of a member, you aren’t required to complete three tests, but you do have to pass one.”

And that is where my stomach leaped into my throat.

“I—I have to… kill someone?” I breathed as my eyes widened at the thought.

Not just him but me. Could I kill someone? Could I have stabbed that man in the alley at Fallout if I had the chance? I knew there had been times when I imagined holding the knife instead of him. Was it that simple?

“Most likely… I don’t know all the details, but tonight, the Men Under Revue are hosting a Gala, and we are required to attend. There will be other wives there who have completed their tests and can help to prepare you for yours.”

I lay there in silence, unable to formulate the words to describe my current emotional state. My eyes drifted to the ceiling as I rolled onto my back in thought.

His fingers gripped my chin, pulling me to face him. Colby’s eyes softened as he stared into mine, and in that moment, I knew just how fucked up this entire situation was, but I couldn’t bring myself to pull away from him, no matter how hard I tried. Not like before.

“Say something, love…” His voice trembled. Was he nervous? Scared of my reaction?

“Whatever you need me to do,” I whispered, almost feeling numb from the bombshell he had just dropped on me right before work—I was going to have to kill someone.

Colby released a held breath before his lips came crashing onto mine, and I allowed him full access, tasting his sweet kiss on my tongue.

This is what a husband and wife do, right?

They accept one another for their flaws, nurture their strengths, and, I guess, in our fucked up situation, commit murder, too.