Chapter 30 Sway
Sway
Loud music assaulted my ears, the deep bass rattling my chest cavity while brightly colored lights bounced off the walls and ceiling. A sea of bodies danced in front of us, the scent of sweat and body glitter in the air.
Women in neon bikinis served drinks to overweight men in suits while armed bouncers stood watch from every corner. With Clive and Owen at my back, I was beginning to feel claustrophobic.
Not that I was complaining since I was not only out of the house, but in an entirely different state. Clubs were just not my scene anymore. Nothing good ever came from them, especially since the last time I had voluntarily entered one, I ended up in a row of cages with no clothes or memories.
I had no idea why we were suddenly in Chicago or how long we were staying, but I hoped it wasn’t just for a single night at another one of Darren’s clubs. I had no desire to return to that deafening world of isolation and confinement back in California.
Clutching my waist tightly, I watched from the corner of my eye as Darren observed the room, his gaze scanning every inch with the scrutiny of God himself.
It had been a few days since the basement, and I still felt skittish around him, unsure of myself and how I wanted to interact with him.
And I hated that he noticed.
The man loved making me squirm. But I forced myself to just silently tolerate him while I discreetly licked my wounds from a safe distance. My confidence would eventually return as it always did, but somehow, this time things felt different.
I still felt oddly insecure in my dark purple dress, the bodycon style wrapping tightly around my figure.
But my insecurity most likely lied with the bruises still healing around my throat.
I was wearing a shit ton of concealer to cover them, utilizing a whole palette of colors to cancel out the ones embedded in my skin.
Thankfully, my throat wasn’t sore anymore, but the idea that someone might catch the shadows ringing my neck had me wanting to hide away until they were gone for good.
Of course, Darren was never embarrassed by his handiwork. In fact, he often appreciated the marks he left behind, grinning from the memories they reminded him of.
Seemingly satisfied with his assessment, Darren pulled me to the left of the room toward what I assumed was a VIP section.
Three men were seated at a round couch on top of a raised platform, a red velvet curtain hanging along the outside to provide a shield of privacy from prying eyes.
Two of the men had a set of beautiful twin blondes hanging from their arms, looking like absolute supermodels with their sky-high heels and tight, low-cut dresses.
The third man had his arm wrapped around another brunette woman, though she was significantly older, possibly in her early fifties. But while the twins were sickly thin, this woman was built like a tank.
The prominent muscles in her arms stood out from her black sleeveless dress, her shoulders well-defined and expertly toned. She wore a pair of strappy black heels that added an additional three inches to her already impressive height.
The laces of her heels curled all the way up her powerfully built calves, stopping just below the knees that connect to impressive quads. I was willing to bet she had a six-pack hidden behind that dress too. It was fitting that the man next to her was equally in shape.
I found myself instantly entranced, shamelessly envious of this gorgeous powerhouse of a woman. While I considered myself pretty well-muscled and toned for my size, I had heavy doubts Darren would ever allow me to build muscle like hers.
Leading me to the couch, Darren sat me down next to him, his arm wrapped neatly around my waist as he introduced me to the men. All three women smiled at me, the only introductions we would likely get before we all turned back into pretty accessories.
The men thankfully paid me little attention beyond the pleasantries, allowing me to turn my gaze back into the dancing crowd not more than thirty feet in front of us. I needed to focus my attention elsewhere before I got caught staring at the older brunette like a goddamn idiot.
That was when I noticed Scott suddenly standing to my left, opposite Clive and Owen, watching the crowd as well.
“Where did you come from?” I asked in annoyance. I hated how easy it was for Scott or Darren to suddenly materialize out of nowhere, the skilled silence of it a talent I envied.
“I’m always around,” he replied with a wink before nodding to Darren.
Accepting my new boring position as a fixture to my seat, I sat back and people-watched while Darren chatted with the other men.
I observed the twins next to them making a constant effort to keep their hands active, either running them along the men’s shoulders or chest, or rubbing their thighs.
It was impossible not to see their cocks hardening in their pants.
What the hell was the point of this whole thing? The music was too loud and they were surrounded by distraction.
Stealing a moment when Scott was answering a text, I tapped his side until he glanced down.
“What the hell is the point in meeting at a club? You can’t hear shit,” I practically shouted over the music at him.
Pocketing his phone when he finished, he turned to me. “That is the point. You never know who else might be trying to listen in,” he said as he tapped his ear.
I guess that makes sense.
Deciding I’d had enough of sitting in silence, I gently stroked my hand down Darren’s thigh to get his attention. His large palm covered all of mine, trapping my hand in place before turning to look at me.
“I need to use the restroom,” I said discreetly into his ear.
Without a word, his eyes sought Clive’s and then nodded in my direction. Darren then gave my hand a slight squeeze, his gaze returning to me in silent warning. Like I even needed it anymore. He then released my hand and continued with his conversation.
Scott moved aside, allowing me to exit the booth and pointed in the direction of the restrooms. I tried hard not to B-line for the doors, but I was eager to stretch my damn legs and practically left Clive and Owen in my dust. But just as I was about to turn the corner, I noticed a whole group of girls enter the restroom.
Fucking great.
Keeping my stride, I entered the bathroom to find the majority of the girls in the lobby, surrounding one who looked like she was hyperventilating.
Mind your business, Jaden. Just mind your fucking business.
Without a second look, I walked passed the girls and into one of the stalls.
“Why didn’t you just do as you were told, Bethany? This is what happens when you don’t listen,” I overheard someone say.
Crying was the response that bounced off the walls.
Just do your business and get the fuck out.
Flushing the toilet, I made my way over to the sink to wash my hands, the incessant crying making my whole body vibrate with tension.
“I know, I’m sorry. I tried the best I could,” the voice cried. “Ah! Don’t touch it! It fucking hurts so much!”
Grabbing some paper towel, I dried my hands.
“Well that’s what you get for arguing with the man! You should have just complied!”
I sighed with contempt as I turned to the mirrors to finger-comb my hair back into place, wiping a small speck of smudged mascara.
“I wasn’t trying to argue. I was just trying to—”
“It doesn’t matter, Bethany. You’re just gonna have to deal with it until the doctor arrives in the morning. Just suck it up before you make things worse for yourself. You know damn well who’s in town tonight. You don’t want to draw his attention with your stupidity.”
I sighed internally. Goddammit.
Walking away from the sink, I headed back into the lobby to find the girls still packed in.
Black mascara ran down the clearly injured girl’s cheeks while her hair stuck to parts of her face.
Her hand clung to one of her shoulders while her body remained hunched over as she sat on one of the couches.
“Okay, what happened?” I asked aloud.
All the girls that were trying to calm her down suddenly silenced themselves as their eyes turned to me.
“Piss off. This doesn’t concern you,” one of them said.
I cocked a brow at her rudeness. Taking another few steps closer to the group, I could finally see what the problem was.
Her shoulder was clearly dislocated.
“Hey, what are you, deaf? I said mind your fucking business!”
“Are you planning on fixing her dislocated shoulder yourself or just berating her for it?” I asked, uninterested in her attempt to dismiss me.
All the girls looked amongst each other, completely unaware of what to do.
“Can you help her?” one of them asked.
“Shut up, Angela, we don’t need her help.”
“I can fix it,” I countered.
“You can?” the injured one asked.
“Madison, maybe we should let her help,” another one suggested.
“She’ll be fine,” Madison told her before shifting her gaze back to me. “Now move. The fuck. Along.”
“How about you back the fuck off and let me fix her fucking shoulder? Or would you like to draw more attention with a medic and security when I knock you the fuck out?”
That was the last thing I needed to be doing after what Darren had just put me through, but my false threat seemed to shut her up long enough for her to consider my warning.
“Move,” I ordered, shouldering past her to kneel in front of the injured girl.
She was wearing barely-there scraps of purple lingerie and several bruises to match.
“I can fix your shoulder if you let me, but it’s going to hurt like hell.
” A gentle nod was all the consent she gave. “Try not to scream,” I cautioned.
Pulling on her arm, I quickly applied the right amount of pressure, tugging on the limb in the right direction until the ball popped back into its socket. Her entire body jolted, her scream muffled through her gritted teeth as she attempted to calm her breathing down.