Chapter 23 #2
She glanced up at me, panicked. “I can’t. I—I don’t know.”
Something raw and possessive burned straight through me. But it was also my cue to slow it down—not because she wasn’t willing, but because she didn’t yet know herself.
What was her story? How could she not even know how to touch herself? The way her body reacted last night left no doubt—it was her first orgasm that a lover had given her—but was it possible it had been her first ever?
MINE! shouted in my mind.
She would never cry out in ecstasy under another man’s hand—I wouldn’t allow it. She had so much to learn—about her body, about trust. And I’d make damn sure it was done right. Maybe the playroom could help with that. Not now. Later. When she was ready.
“It’s okay, lassie,” I said, softer. “I’ll show you.”
She pulled her finger free and stared at the slick sheen coating it.
“Taste yourself, Scar.”
She tilted her head, brows knitting. “What?”
“Go on,” I said quietly. “Trust me. Suck your juices off that finger.”
At the same time, I slowly pumped my fingers in and out of her, my thumb grazing her clit.
She hesitated.
“Eyes on me, lassie.”
She locked onto my gaze and let out a low moan.
“That’s my girl,” I said. “Look at how you’re dripping into my palm.”
She whimpered.
I glanced at her finger, then back to her mouth, nodding.
She lifted it to her lips and licked the tip.
“That’s a good girl,” I said. “Now let me see you suck it into your mouth.”
She smirked—and did it, hollowing her cheeks around her finger.
I growled.
“Fuck,” I muttered. “I’ve got to taste you.”
In one fluid motion, I slid my fingers out of her, dropped to my knees, and pinned her legs back with my elbows. I dipped my tongue into her pussy, swirling it deep before sealing my mouth over her—licking, sucking, biting, drinking her down.
“Mmm,” a groan escaped from deep within my chest. Pure sweetness. My dick pulsed against my pants.
Her moans climbed higher and higher, frantic and broken.
She was right on the edge when—
A woman cleared her throat loudly behind us.
Scarlett screamed and scrambled backward.
I spun, jumping to my feet, ready to kill whoever had walked in.
“Aria—what the ever-loving fuck?” I barked.
She stood there unfazed, arms loaded with garment bags and shopping totes, one perfectly arched brow lifted as she tapped the toe of her black stiletto against the floor.
“You directed me to bring Miss Hayes some clothing,” she said coolly. “And here I am.” Her gaze flickered briefly to Scarlett, then back to me. “I could have done without the show.” She smirked.
Scarlett hopped off the counter, yanking the T-shirt down over herself, her cheeks flaming. “I—I’m so sorry,” she stammered. “I didn’t know he had a—” She stopped herself, mortified. “I’ll just…be leaving.”
She tried to slip past me toward the hallway.
I caught her by the forearm and yanked her back.
“Easy,” I muttered, then leaned in to kiss Aria’s cheek.
She angled her head to accept the kiss, unbothered.
“Thank you, love. I appreciate the help.”
I laid a hand on her arm. “Scarlett, this is Aria Singleton. Aria, this is Scarlett Hayes.”
“Nice to meet you, Miss Hayes,” Aria said pleasantly, as if this were a perfectly normal introduction.
I released Scarlett and took the bags from Aria.
“Aria helps me manage Club Xyst,” I added. “If there’s ever anything you need, she’s here to help.”
Scarlett nodded, still pink. “Nice to meet you too. And…thank you for the clothes.”
“No problem, hon,” Aria said. “I hope you love them. Have Lucian put my number in your phone—you’ll have to come to Xyst and meet the rest of the gang.”
“I would,” Scarlett said awkwardly, “but I don’t have a phone.”
Aria smiled. “I’m sure you’ll get one if the guys think you should have one.”
Scarlett hesitated, then squared her shoulders. “Do you know he’s…keeping me here? Like a prisoner?”
Aria tilted her head, considering her words. “I’m sure he has his reasons,” she said lightly. “Either he’s protecting you from others—or protecting others from you.” Her gaze sharpened just a touch. “Either way, if you’re smart, you won’t try to escape.”
She turned to me. “And you, sir, had better check in with Nik before he’s the next one walking through that door.”
I grunted. “I’d change the security profiles, but he’d crack them in minutes.”
I shifted the bags in my hands. “Thanks again for the clothes.”
She laughed. “No problem. She needs something better than one of your ratty T-shirts.”
Aria headed for the elevator.
I glanced after her, then turned back to Scarlett. “Come on. Let’s get you squared away.”
I started down the hall toward the guest suite, arms loaded with shopping and garment bags. I was certain Aria had outfitted Scarlett with the perfect selection. She had a knack for knowing exactly what someone needed—and what they wanted. We’d better never lose her; she was a keeper for sure.
Scarlett stepped inside the room behind me, still blushing and nervous.
“I know what you’re thinking—and don’t,” I said, setting the bags on the bed. “Aria has worked for Xyst for years. It’s strictly professional.”
“I didn’t ask,” she said softly. “But thank you for telling me. I just can’t believe she has free access to your home—and caught us…in that position.”
I chuckled. “Working with us at the club, she’s seen it all. Nothing fazes her. And we give her full access because we ask her to handle a lot of crazy shit.”
She stepped closer, fingers brushing the nearest handle as if she didn’t trust it to be real.
She opened one and turned it upside down.
Several sweaters spilled out onto the bed—wool, cashmere, all different colors.
She opened another bag and pulled out a pair of black lug-soled boots. A huge smile spread across her face.
“How did she know my size?”
“I’m telling you,” I said, gesturing at the pile on the bed. “Aria works her magic, and things just happen.”
“Oh,” she whispered.
With each bag, her excitement grew—and so did the speed of her movements. Tissue paper flew. Fabric and shoes piled up faster than I could track. It was like Christmas morning for a kid.
I watched her, and something in my chest tightened. A huge smile—unguarded—lit her face. It was the first time I’d seen pure, unfiltered joy cross her face.
She turned to me. “You…you didn’t have to do this.”
“You needed some decent clothes, Scar.”
Her hand hovered over a silk dress—deep green, soft as sin. She touched it as if it were fragile, precious. “I haven’t had clothes like this since my mother died.”
That hit hard.
The thought of her spending her teenage years—and now into her twenties—living under enforced poverty, lit something violent in me. I wanted Andrew Hayes on his knees.
She spun, holding the dress up to her body, studying her reflection in the mirror that was tucked into the corner. “I can’t wait to wear this.” She looked back at me, hopeful. “Will you take me to dinner?”
I smiled—but my phone vibrated before I could answer.
I glanced at the screen.
Nik.
My jaw tightened.
“I need to take this. It’s Nik, my boss,” I said.
She nodded, still smiling. “Okay. I’m going to take a quick shower and get dressed. I’ll—” She gestured at the bed. “I’ll clean up the mess when I’m done.”
I turned away, throwing over my shoulder, “Take your time.”
She was humming when I closed the door.
That sound followed me all the way to my office.
I shut the door and put the call on speaker.
“Talk,” I said.
Nik didn’t bother with greetings. “You’ve got a problem.”
“Go on.”
“Delgado’s people figured out it was you at The Black Ledger.”
I dropped onto the chair behind my desk, laying the phone in front of me.
“They pulled footage,” Nik said. “Not inside because it’s Moretti-owned—but outside. From a camera in the alley of the next building over. And from a photographer who sold the images before DarkMatter could bury them. They know it was a professional extraction. They know your name.”
“Fuck.”
“With the mayor’s city ties, he’s tearing through every scrap of data on you. I’ve scrubbed what I can, but paper trails are harder. He’s got people inside the city records office as we speak.”
“What’s there to find?” I asked, bracing my elbows on the desk, staring at the phone.
“Your location,” Nik said bluntly. He was never one to soften the blow.
“We shielded the penthouse under the attorneys’ names,” he went on, “but there’s a new state disclosure requirement. Protected by privacy laws, sure—but Hayes has enough pull to get around them.”
He didn’t pause. “Hayes is panicking. The press is circling, calling him a fraud for parading Scarlett around as a nun. They’re digging into his personal ties. He’s burning every favor he has left. And in his anger, he’s done something more stupid than usual.”
“What?” I demanded.
There was a pause. Just long enough to tell me how bad it was.
“He offered her to Delgado.”
The room tilted.
“Say that again.”
“He agreed to hand Scarlett over as repayment for years of political cover and money laundering. Delgado accepted.”
Rage slammed into me. I planted my hands on the desk to keep from breaking something.
“That son of a—”
Keys clacked on Nik’s end, the only sound in the room.
“He just messaged the chief of police,” Nik said. “They’re heading to your address under the guise of a welfare check.”
I dragged a hand through my hair. “How long?”
“Two minutes before uniforms show up to ask questions. Less if Delgado’s men get there first.”
My blood ran cold.
Nik didn’t hesitate. “Head to the Jersey safe house—near Teterboro. DarkMatter’s already rerouting a detail.”
“Got it,” I said. “I know the place.”
“You need to disappear. Now.”
“I’m moving.”
I ended the call and was already down the hall.
Two strides later, I yanked open the guest suite door.
“Scarlett,” I barked. “Change of plans. Get dressed. Now.”
Her head snapped up, the blow dryer sending her long hair swirling. “What’s wrong?”
“We’re leaving.”
She didn’t argue. She moved.
I turned for the foyer and shrugged out of my jacket in one motion. The shoulder holster went on next—leather straps crossing my chest. I checked both pistols, snapped them into place, then fastened a blade to my calf. It was all muscle memory. No wasted motion.
By the time Scarlett ran to me, I was already tugging the jacket back on, palming the security panel, and grabbing my go-bag. Thank God, she was dressed in something warm: a soft white sweater, black jeans, and boots.
I hustled her into the hallway toward the private elevator that Lach and I shared.
His door flew open, and he met me just as the elevator arrived.
“I take it you’ve heard,” I said.
Lach grimaced. “You know Nik. Always efficient.”
We stepped inside as the doors slid shut.
Andrew Hayes had just signed his own death warrant.
And if Delgado thought he could reach her through me—
He was welcome to try.