Chapter 28
My temporary ban from The Jewelry Box is officially over, and I celebrate by treating myself to a glass of top shelf whiskey on a Tuesday night. Only, unlike my former routine, I don’t immediately head to the VIP section.
Instead, I hang out by the bar to trade jokes with Cat and talk to Mia—the club’s head mixologist—about her plans to renovate her house. Aspen claps me on the shoulder when he’s making his security rounds, and after a half hour, Rafael shows up. My best friend isn’t wearing his aquarium uniform, but I still catch the slight scent of salt water from him.
“Look at you.” He grins and waves at Mia, who sets a glass of tequila in front of him. “They let you back in. You’re lucky Yasmin likes you.”
“I am feeling quite lucky lately.” I clink the rim of my glass against Rafael’s and enjoy the delicious burn as I replay the encounter with Ava from last week’s campus visit. How her pale ass had pooled on the surface of that pretentious desk during our second round of revenge sex. How my pounding strokes rattled the customized fountain pens until they rolled out of place. How the wicked witch held me deep inside her when I finished for a second time and crooned that I was a good Squid. Those sweet words had me coming so hard my eyes crossed, and I swore my balls were drained dry.
Praise from Ava is my sexual kryptonite. I get destroyed in the best way.
Blinking away the erotic thoughts, I refocus on my friend. “And I wouldn’t go so far as to say Yasmin likes me. I think she’s more interested in my architecture brain than being buddy-buddy.”
I don’t hold it against the Airhead. In fact, I enjoy how the club owner wants me for a skill I worked to cultivate. That’s a kind of wanting I enjoy.
We’ve met twice more about renovating The Underworld, and it is officially happening. I’m the architect in charge of redesigning the kinky club. And despite Yasmin providing the funding, she’s decided to hand off the major aesthetic decisions to Harley Byrne. I knew the Pyro was a dominatrix at the club, but this is a different kind of work. Harley and I have only ever interacted at Elemental parties where we tease and taunt each other. But this is business, where we could potentially build something great, I’m excited for the challenge.
And I’m also hoping that Ava and I could possibly use one of the rooms when everything is finished.
Warmth envelopes my left side, and I glance over to find Cat smirking at me as she settles her serving tray on the bar. “So Pearl is really giving you a chance, huh? You found a way to charm her?”
I sip my whiskey as I think about Cat’s comment. Charm comes naturally to me but maneuvering my way into Ava’s good graces was anything but that.
“Don’t think it was my charm,” I admit.
“So, what then?” The redhead braces her elbows on the bar top, and I watch her boyfriend’s eyes drop to her metal-covered cleavage. The guy is gone for her, and I like that she’s not setting him on fire for the move.
“I think she warmed up to me around the time she vomited on my pants.”
Cat’s mouth pops open, and Rafael coughs out the tequila he inhaled instead of swallowed.
“You annoyed her so much she puked on you?” The Pyro asks the question through delighted giggles.
I pout. “No. It wasn’t because she was annoyed. She had a migraine.”
Cat sobers with a wince. “Oof. Poor Pearl. I’ve heard those can be rough.”
Recalling the sweaty, drawn nature of her face when I arrived, and how every move she made appeared laced with pain, rough is too mild in my opinion.
But I nod. “She let me take care of her. I must have done a good enough job that she decided I wasn’t a total asshole.”
“That’s the goal,” Rafael declares, clinking his glass against mine while Cat smirks at her own charming former-playboy.
As the pair trade flirtatious quips, I slide off my stool, drawn to a spot with a better view of the stage. But I still don’t go up to the VIP section, or even where Ava might spot me. Now that she acknowledges me outside of The Jewelry Box, I don’t have the desperate urge to capture every second of her attention here.
Ava has on an outfit with tassels, and the little strings sway with every one of her skilled movements. The muscles in her arms flex when she hoists herself higher and rolls her body like a wave on the pole.
Magnificent.
“Does this bother you?” Cat pauses at my side, holding a tray full of drinks.
“You stepping out on me by serving other people cocktails? Yes. I’m wounded. I thought we had something special my little red menace.”
The Pyro rolls her eyes. “Don’t make me set your pants on fire. I meant, does her dancing for all these guys? All of them lusting after her, does that bother you?”
“Gods no.” When Cat raises a skeptical brow at me, I stand by my statement. “It doesn’t. For one, she pays them as much attention as she did me. But more than that, all this lust”—I sweep my arm to take in the room of spectators—“it fuels her magic. She’s not like us, with it always under her skin. She needs an outside source.”
“Wow.” The redhead glances toward the stage. “That’s how witches work?”
I shrug. “How she does, anyway. And when she has power, she can hold off the migraines. That guy”—I tilt my head toward a middle-aged white man with a receding hairline, expensive suit, and prominent boner—“is pure magic fuel. Filling up her battery. So tomorrow, she can wake up pain-free.” I lean my shoulder against a column and watch in wonder as my woman fully inverts herself on the pole, arching her back as she slowly spins. “Anything that makes her feel good, I want her to do. Anything that keeps her healthy and happy.”
“That’s progressive of you, Sammy.” Cat gives my arm and affectionate knuckle tap. “I think you might not screw this up.”
“I’m honored by your confidence.” My voice is thick with sarcasm, but I can’t help grinning at Cat.
She thinks I can make this last with Ava. That’s all I want.
As the Pyro strolls away to serve more drinks, I attach my eyes to the masked dancer on stage. The song speeds up, and Ava’s body flows with the melody, pure temptation until I’m adjusting myself to keep an erection slightly more discrete than the man I pointed out to Cat. He’s not the only one salivating over my witch, and every stare trained her way eases the tight anxiety I didn’t realize was in my chest. The worry that Ava will find herself without magic again and have to experience more of the wretched pain I saw painted all over her body.
Guys sit around the edge of the stage, tossing bills at her feet or holding them up in an attempt to draw her closer. They don’t have any luck, not that I expected them to.
She doesn’t care about the money.
Ever since I realized how empty the friendships I bought were, I’ve longed for someone to want me for more than my bank account. I’ve hoped a person might get to know me and decide there’s a drop or more of substance to me beneath the surface. That I have more to give than my Amex card.
That was one of the reasons I worked so hard to coax Cat, Rafael, and Aspen together again after years of fission. Because they’re the kind of people who will be my friend no matter how much I’m worth. For that, I would’ve done anything to make them happy. And since I couldn’t buy their happiness, I had to figure out another plan. Good thing I knew the three of them wanted each other, and I was the right kind of pushy to make that happen.
Now the Pyro, Squid, and Petal Pusher are in love, and Cat is my friend.
If Cat can get over her animosity toward me enough to count me among her trusted companions, then maybe a spectacular woman like Ava could find something real to love about me.
A Squid can hope.