Chapter 4 - Face to face
Lily came through the VIP door hard enough to make the handle clap against the stopper.
She took two steps in and stopped, chin up, arms locked under her breasts like she was keeping herself from putting hands on me.
The dress did no favors for her temper as her deep neckline spread to either side.
Every time she breathed, the plunge pulled lower, gold at her wrist flashing against all that pale skin.
My wife stood in the best room in Los Angeles and looked at me like I had brought trash into her house.
That did things to me. Not doubt. My cock knew her anger before my mouth did, and I let her see me take my time with it.
I stayed on the stool, one elbow on the bar, my glass untouched beside me. No rush. No raised voice. Men who had to jump up to prove control had already lost it.
“Come here, babe.”
Her eyes cut to me, sharp enough to leave a mark. “No.”
I lifted my hand, palm open. The old invitation. The one she loved when she was ready to be handled and hated when she was trying to win an argument.
She stayed planted in those heels. Her bottom lip trembled.
“Who the hell is the woman?”
I looked at her for a beat. “What woman?”
“Don’t play with me, Haile.” She stepped closer to the bar counter. I picked up my glass and looked at her reflection, all cleavage and fury. “Your pants were in the laundry bag with gum stuck to the back. Pink gum. On your black trousers. You don’t chew gum.”
Spice.
I saw it plain. Spice bent over the sofa earlier, stretching that stupid gum from her teeth while she pretended not to angle her ass toward me. Viccy would have giggled. Spice would have made sure Lily found the mess if she had the chance. A little pink flag from a girl who should know better.
And Lily did. That was why her voice had that break under the anger.
“A girl puts her mouth trash on my clothes,” she said, “and I’m supposed to fold them like a good wife? Is that what we do now?”
“My pants picked up some gum in my club,” I said. “Big deal.”
Her laugh was ugly. Hurt made her mean. “Your club. Your servers. Your bottle girls leaning over you every night with their tits out.” She pointed at me, nail gleaming. “Do not sit there like I’m crazy.”
“You’re not crazy.” I set my glass down without drinking. “You are wrong.”
That got her. Her mouth closed. Pride held her upright, but her eyes flicked away toward the glass wall, where the crowd below moved under us without knowing what kind of fight they were under.
I stood then.
She watched me cross the room. I did it slow because she needed to feel every second of it. She had backed herself closer to the exit.
“You know what I do,” I said. “You know where I sleep. You know whose name is on my books, whose hands sign beside mine, whose ring I put on and never took off.”
Her throat worked. She hated that I sounded calm. She hated more that I was right.
“I saw it,” she said, quieter now, still fighting. “I touched it. It was there.”
“And you decided that meant I let another woman have me.”
Her shoulders lifted, then held. No answer.
I came close enough for her perfume to hit me, expensive and familiar, the scent she wore when she wanted to be remembered. My hand settled on her shoulder. She was tense under my palm, but she did not move away.
“What I think, my love,” I said, “is you need to get fucking laid.”
Her eyes snapped back to mine.
There it was. Her nostrils flared. Her lips parted, ready to cut me. Then the fight in her face faltered, just for a second, and embarrassment rose behind it.
“Don’t do that,” she said.
“Do what?”
“Make it sound so simple.”
“It is simple.”
“It is not.” She looked down at my hand on her shoulder, then at my mouth. “Those girls throw themselves at you all night. They make me look like a fool in my own place.”
“Nobody makes you look like a fool except you when you start firing grown men because Spice left gum on my pants.”
That landed harder than I expected. Her cheeks colored. She pulled her arms from under her breasts, and the dress shifted with her, revealing more than she meant to give. She noticed my eyes drop.
“I was angry.”
“You were jealous.”
“I was both.”
“You fired my boys.”
Her gaze fell to my chest. “I know.”
“You don’t get to take food off my brothers’ tables because a waitress wants attention.”
Lily swallowed. The apology did not come easy. That was why I wanted it. Easy apologies were just noise from a pretty mouth.
“You’re right,” she said at last, the words scraped raw. “I was being a bitch.”
I waited.
Her hands opened at her sides, then closed again. “I’m sorry.”
“Better.”
Her eyes flashed at that, but the flash had no teeth left. She pressed her palm against her forehead, dragging it back into her hair, careful not to disturb the perfect blonde waves too much. Even coming apart, Lily hated looking undone unless I was the one doing it.
“I hate this,” she said. “I hate how I get. I see one little sign that some girl touched you, and my head goes straight to filth.” She laughed under her breath, bitter now. “Then I’m mad at you for a scene I made up.”
I kept my hand on her shoulder. “And horny.”
She closed her eyes.
“Say it.”
Her lashes lifted. She looked at me like she wanted to bite me and kneel for me in the same motion. “And horny.”
My phone came out of my pocket. Her attention dropped to it at once.
The screen lit my palm, names and unread messages stacked from half the city.
If I wanted a private girl with the right mouth and the right discretion, I could have one here.
If I wanted two, I could have them before the next bottle came upstairs.
Too much time. Too much performance. Lily did not need a curated fantasy tonight. She needed consequence.
My thumb paused over the phone.
Lily caught my forearm. “Fuck me right now.”
I looked from her hand to her face. “Greedy.”
“Yes.” No shame in it now. She stepped into me and tipped her chin. “I’ve been wound up for days. I come here ready to catch you doing dirt, and all I did was make myself worse.” Her fingers slid to the hem of her skirt, tugging it higher by an inch. “Please.”
“Don’t rush me.”
“Haile.”
That one word carried demand, need, and a little fear.
“In due time,” I said.
Her hand moved between her thighs, pressing there through the skirt, more to show me than to soothe herself.
With the other hand she cupped one breast, pushing it up until she revealed her nipple .
She knew what she was doing. She also knew I might make her wait, and that had her close to begging before she even opened her mouth.
“I need you,” she said. “Now. I’ll be good. I’ll stop acting crazy. Just touch me.”
I took her chin and brought her eyes back to mine. “Listen to me. If I fuck you right here, I can make you come and send you home sweet. That would solve the next hour.”
Her breathing went shallow, visible in the rise of her chest, but she stayed still under my grip.
“I don’t want the next hour,” I said. “I want to burn this lesson in.”
Her pupils widened.
“You need more than your husband bending you over because you threw a fit. You need to be taken past the point where that jealousy has any place left to hide.”
Her fingers left her breast. Slowly, she lowered both hands. That was consent before words. She gave me her body by stopping the performance and standing open in front of me.
“I trust you,” she said.
“I know.”
Her voice dropped. “Tell me what you want.”
“You sure you want that?”
“Yes.”
“Don’t say yes because your pussy is running the meeting.”
A weak little laugh escaped her. “It absolutely is.”
“Lily.”
She straightened. The bratty edge left her face, and what remained was my wife, scared of wanting too much and too proud to beg badly. “I trust you,” she said again. “If you want me to take another man, I’ll take him. If you want more, I’ll stay open. But you watch me.”
My thumb slid along her jaw. “I will be right there.”
Her lips parted.
“You won’t look for me and find an empty room,” I said. “You won’t wonder if I still want you. You’ll know. Every second.”
She leaned into my hand. “I need that.”
“I know you do.”
“And you like it,” she whispered.
A slow grin pulled at my mouth despite myself. “I like seeing my wife ruined and reaching for me when it’s done.”
She stared at me. Her shoulders stayed high, but her eyes stopped fighting me. It did not vanish. It fed the want in her until she looked almost offended by how badly she needed the next command.
“Then hurry up,” she said. “Don’t make me stand here aching while you enjoy yourself.”
“I enjoy myself either way.”
“Bastard.”
“Your bastard.”
Her mouth softened at that. “Always.”
The phone was still in my hand. I glanced toward the glass. The club below kept shining and grinding, unaware. My boys were under us, moving through my empire after my wife had tried to cut them loose.
I put the phone away.
Lily noticed. “What?”
I slid my hand around the back of her neck and drew her closer, close enough that her breasts pressed against my shirt. “You won’t fire my boys again.”
Her brows pulled together. “Haile.”
“That wasn’t a question.”
She wet her lips. “No. I won’t.”
“Say it right.”
“I won’t fire them again.” The words cost her. Good. “Tedros, Abel, Reza, Darryl. I know what they are to you.”
“And?”
She looked away.
I tightened my fingers at the back of her neck, not enough to hurt, enough to remind her who held the room. “Look at me.”
Her gaze came back.
“And?” I repeated.
Her voice was smaller. “I was trying to get under your skin.”
“You missed.”
“I know.” Her mouth twisted. “That pissed me off too.”
A laugh moved through my chest. “Honest at last.”
“I’m sorry,” she said. Then, before I could correct her, she added, “Not just to you.”
“No,” I said. “Not just to me.”
Her face changed as the meaning reached her. Those men would see her pride stripped down. The same men she had dismissed would hear her apologize, and if she understood my hand on her neck, she knew that apology would not be the end of their night.
A tremor ran through her thighs. She did not step back.
“You’ll say it to them when you see them,” I said.
She nodded once. “Yes.”
“Out loud.”
“Yes.”
“No little rich-wife attitude.”
That brought her bite back for half a second. “I am not little.”
“No. You’re my wife. Act like it.”
Her eyes shone with humiliation she wanted and hated needing. “I’ll apologize.”
“Good girl.”
She grabbed my jacket and pulled me down. “Now kiss me before I start another fight.”
I gave her my mouth. She opened for me at once, all that anger turned needy on my tongue.
Her hands climbed my lapels, then stopped there, holding instead of clawing, letting me set the pace.
I kissed her until she softened against my chest and still kept that dangerous edge in her, the part that might flare again if I let go too soon.
So I did not let go.
Behind the glass, my club thudded on. In my arms, Lily waited for the order she had already agreed to obey.