Chapter 10
CHIARA
“Come in,” I say before the door opens.
Marco, one of my bodyguards, towers over the doorframe. The man’s six-eight and two hundred eighty pounds of muscle. The customers here know not to fuck with anyone when they see him come through, and the resting man-bitch face he has going only helps me.
But Marco is a big softie. The sweetest, kindest man I have yet to meet. And I don’t meet many of them.
Scratch that. I know none.
“What’s wrong?” I ask him, noticing the look of alarm in his eyes.
“Ma’am, there’s an issue with a customer. I know you wanted to be made aware.”
“Just when I thought I could have a quiet night.” A grin wraps around my lips. “What’s going on?”
I sit up straighter. If anyone hurt a girl, they’re going to fucking pay.
“I can take care of it so you don’t have to be around that shit.”
“You’re too kind to me, Marco. But it’s my job. Plus, I have you to beat the crap out of them if it comes to it.”
His mouth twitches as he cracks a fist. “You know I will.”
“Oh, I know.” I arch a brow. “Now, let’s go and take care of the problem.”
I get to my feet and walk out alongside him, the blast of a hypnotizing melody greeting me while we rush down a long, dimly lit corridor.
The music gets rowdier as we make it onto the main floor.
The club is huge. There are three stages, and the girls rotate every half hour, with ten girls in total.
As he leads me near the cause of the problem, Marco informs me there was an unruly man in one of the sections who grabbed one of the girls by her hips and threw her onto his lap, after which, he tried to fondle her breasts. Marco and Antonio, my other bouncer, pulled her off of him.
As we get closer, I find Antonio next to a table in the corner, holding a man by the back of his neck. Antonio may not be as big as Marco, but he sure as hell can be a lot crazier.
“Hello, gentlemen,” I greet them.
As Antonio turns around, I notice the man’s shirt is in quite a disarray. It probably used to have buttons on it, but almost all have been ripped off. Oh, and there’s a nice shiner around his eye. Looks like Antonio’s handiwork.
“I like what you did there.” I grin, drawing a circle around the man’s face.
“Thanks, boss.” Antonio shrugs, his head glistening beneath the pink and purple lights. “I try.”
The man winces, gritting his teeth as Antonio tightens his grasp around him.
I finally take a better look at the asshole. He’s about an inch shorter than me with my heels on. I’m five-seven without them, and a good five-eleven with.
“You’re the one who decided to ruin my night?” I eye the man who looks at me as though I’m a joke.
“Who the fuck are you?” he asks, his lips twisting in disgust.
Antonio’s other hand forms a fist under the man’s chin, roughly shoving his head back. I can see in his glare that he’s close to landing another punch.
But I hold out a hand, stopping him, my eyes never leaving the man’s.
“I’m Chiara. Chiara Bianchi. This is my club, and these are my girls. And I heard you put your hands on one of them.”
A small laugh bursts out of him. “That’s what they’re here for, aren’t they? To make me happy. What else are whores good for?”
I narrow my eyes, edging closer to him until my face is less than an inch away from his. “My girls aren’t whores. Call them that one more time and see what happens.”
He grins, and I have the urge to wipe it off his face.
“You’re so feisty. Are you sure you’re not a stripper too? I’d love to see those big tits bounce up on that stage. I think I’d like to put my hands on them next.”
“Please, ma’am, let me do it,” Marco practically begs behind me.
Even with the music, I can hear the huffing of Marco’s breath on my neck. Both men are very protective of me.
I spin his way, donning a big smile. “You have to let me have some fun too. It’s boring otherwise.”
When I turn back to the asshole, I clench a tight fist and throw it square at his nose.
He screams, blood gushing out like a fountain as he palms his nose, hyperventilating. There may or may not have been a possible crack. It’s kind of hard to say. He’ll have some good memories to look back on. He starts to stumble, but Antonio keeps him upright.
The men at the table to our right mutter something with a chuckle.
“Do you still want to feel my tits?” I ask with a bitter laugh.
All those boxing classes I took for a year have come in handy.
“You stupid bitch!” he cries. “I’m going to sue you for this.”
I roll my eyes. “You’re either stupid or have a death wish. I can’t quite figure out which one.” I release a bored sigh. “I suggest we pretend you didn’t just say that.”
I near his face again, practically smelling the blood still spouting out.
“I’ll break a lot more than your nose if I ever see you near me, my club, or anyone I know.
You’ll wish we’ve never met.” I shove at his chest. “Now, you’re gonna scatter like the bug you are and go crawl into whatever hole you came from before I call the cops.
And believe me, you’ll stay in prison for a very long time if I do. I’ll make sure of it.”
I back away.
“Get this trash out of here,” I tell Antonio and Marco.
Antonio nods. “With pleasure.”
He drags the scumbag by his hair, the man practically falling over his feet. I rake my fingers through my long black hair that cascades down to the small of my back. This is my life. I didn’t ask for it. I didn’t want it. But here I am anyway, kicking ass and taking names.
I wanted to be a teacher. Crazy, right? I intended to make a difference in the world, I guess to counteract the bad my father was doing. It’ll never happen now.
I’m twenty-eight, stuck here working for my father for however long he makes me. I couldn’t even pick my own major in college. My father instructed I choose business so he could use me when he needed me.
This was his plan for me all along: force me into a marriage he knew I’d refuse, so I’d have no choice but to do his bidding.
Walking up to the bar, I order a drink. I need it after that incident.
“Hey, Tina,” I call to the bartender. “Could you get me a Short Southern Screw?”
I love ordering that one, makes me laugh every damn time. And I could definitely use a screw. Not a short one, though. Preferably a long, thick one that knows what it’s doing.
I drag in a long, deep breath. I guess it’ll be another lonely night with me and my friend Pat, a.k.a. my dildo.
Tina places the shot before me, and I immediately let it pour down my throat. It’s got a hint of peach and orange mixed with vodka and Southern Comfort. I wanted something to burn and hit me fast, and that sure as hell did the trick.
As I’m about to head back to the silence of my office, someone taps me on the shoulder from behind. I peer around, finding Joelle standing there.
“Are you okay?” she asks, her brows bending. “I saw what happened with that shitbag. I can’t believe he did that to Sienna.”
She shakes her head, pursing her lips with worry, her long, wavy strawberry-blonde hair flirting along the curves of her face.
The woman’s gorgeous, and I don’t even swing that way. She’s the favorite in the club. Every guy who can afford her wants a private dance. Not only does she look like a 1920s pinup, but she also knows how to move her body well.
I wouldn’t know what to do with a pole if my life depended on it. The one time I tried for fun, I looked ridiculous. Sometimes, it sucks being a boss of a bunch of strippers who know how to wrap around a pole better than you could ever dream of, especially when they ask you to join them.
I don’t know why I agreed. The girls were practicing their routines one day and invited me to try it. I was the only embarrassment. I never did it again. These ladies make it look so easy.
It’s not.
“I’m fine,” I tell her. “You should’ve seen the other guy.”
“I did,” she laughs, shaking her head. “Remind me never to mess with you.”
Her lips curl in amusement.
“A girl should always know how to stand up for herself,” I tell her.
“You’re right.” She flips her hair past her shoulder with the back of her hand. “I’m going to start taking self-defense classes with this trainer at my gym. He’s an ex-MMA fighter. And he’s cute! You should join me. He may love throwing you around a little.” She wags her eyes deviously.
“I’m not looking for that.”
“Oh, please! You’re talking to me here.” She gestures at herself with a thumb. “I know how long it’s been.”
“Why do I tell you things?” I roll my eyes playfully, letting out an exaggerated sigh.
“Because you love me?”
“Yeah, yeah. Get back to work. I think you’re up next.”
“Fine.” She backs away, the crystals from her lime-green bra sparkling underneath the colorful overhead LED lights.
“But just in case you change your mind, his name is Frank, and his arms aren’t the only big thing about him.
” She winks with a curve of her red lips. “Come to the gym and see for yourself.”
I narrow an icy stare her way, shaking my head with a smile pulling at the corner of my mouth. She turns from me, and before she heads up on the stage, I call out her name.
She looks back, popping a brow.
“Text me the number.” I don’t have to marry the man to have a little bit of fun.
She grins. “You got it.”
The emcee introduces her just as she seductively climbs up the steps, grabbing the pole and spinning around it once, before her legs hold on tight and don’t let go.
I whirl back around, intending to head for my office, but instead I walk straight into a brick wall.
Well, not a wall, exactly. More like a man with a chest that feels harder than rock.
His hazel eyes flick to mine, connecting in an extreme stare. Why the hell is he staring at me like I killed his favorite puppy? Maybe if I were someone else, I’d even be a little afraid of him, but I’m not. I’ve known men far worse than he could possibly be.
But just as quickly as his harsh expression came, it vanishes, replaced with a flirty jerk of his full, dangerously sexy lips.
“Excuse me,” I blurt out in irritation, staring at his chiseled face and the soft brown hues of his eyes.