CHAPTER FOURTEEN
JORDAN
Skintight, seductive, little black dress: check.
Tits galore: check.
Smooth legs, tantalizing perfume, soft curls halfway down my back: check, check, check.
I could tell Chico had no idea what he’d gotten himself into as we hailed the taxi and crossed town to the address in Union Square. His eyes roamed the length of my legs a time or two. When he reached for his phone, I touched his wrist.
“Hey. Who are you going to call?”
“Nobody.” He paused. “I just wanted to check in.”
“No need for that. We’re perfectly fine, and Seven needs a night off. We should let the man enjoy his time. He needs a break from my presence, trust me.”
Chico nodded and slipped his phone back in his pocket. Crisis averted. The longer this went on, the more underhanded I felt. But jealousy was a powerful motivator. I hadn’t felt this bratty and determined in…eons. Possibly ever.
All I could focus on was finding out whether he was meeting up with a woman. Possibly he’d had a girlfriend this entire time. Or maybe this was a dating app hook-up. Not knowing killed me. He was mine, even if he didn’t know it. The thought shuddered through me, but it felt true. He’d grabbed my chin and offered to let me cry with him in a corner earlier that day. He’d even rescued my rescue cat. How could he be meeting up with another woman after all that?
I pulled my leather jacket tighter. Was I sending myself straight into a tangled mess? Both Seven and Chico would discover my scheming as soon as we arrived. But it didn’t matter. I’d find a way to play it off.
We pulled up to The Chop, a steakhouse whose entrance looked weirdly similar to that of Gemstones with neon lights announcing the name and the formal awning over the door. Roxie waited for me outside, hopping from spiked heel to spiked heel in the chilly night air.
“There you are!” She held out her arms for a hug as I climbed out of the back of the taxi. She wore a tight-fitting red dress and big, golden hoops. I squealed as we hugged, her perfume mixing with the scent of cooking meat wafting from the restaurant. “This place looks nice. We thinkin’ cocktails or—”
She trailed off as Chico appeared at my side.
“Why hello,” she murmured, her gaze dragging up and down his body.
Chico stuck out a hand. “Nice to meet you…”
“Roxie,” I supplied for him. “Roxie, meet Chico. He’s just hanging around to make sure we don’t get in too much trouble.” I flashed him a pretty grin. “I work with Roxie and she’s one of the good ones, so we gotta keep an eye on her, all right?”
“It’s my pleasure,” Chico said.
Roxie giggled, swatting at his arm. “I like this one more than the last one.”
I rolled my eyes, linking my arm through hers. “Come on. Let’s go in.” I leaned in closer, my voice dropping to a whisper. “I think Seven is here on a date. I just came to spy.”
Roxie giggled again, squeezing my arm linked through hers. “Are we detectives tonight?”
“Something like that. But this man offers up nothing about his personal life. So I decided to see for myself.”
We pushed in through the main doors, taking a moment to acclimate to the moody red walls, dark wood floors and the cacophony of conversation and clinking glasses. Tables lined one side of the restaurant, and a long bar stretched along the other side. I could see a different seating area toward the back, but it seemed almost all the tables were spoken for. A hostess looked at me with a polite smile.
“Will this be for three?”
I scanned the area as quickly as I could, trying to spot Seven before he spotted me. If he was even here. I was just about to ask the hostess if we could grab a table so I could prowl the back of the restaurant—and then I spotted him.
The charcoal slacks, the white polo shirt I was dying to peel off him, the immaculately clipped dark hair that faded down into his cut jawline. I clenched my thighs together just imagining the way his attention would alight on me, the intensity of his dark gaze. I was suddenly so thirsty for it my tongue was dry. He was the only man who could look at me and both quench me and set me on fire.
Seven sat in one of the last seats at the bar before it curved around, obscured by some other patrons between him and the front of the restaurant. I couldn’t see who was at his side, but I was so excited I blurted, “The bar. We just want the bar.”
The hostess gestured sweetly to her side. “Go ahead, wherever you’d like is fine.”
I thanked her and chose the closest set of seats to Seven and his date. Three customers separated us. My entire body vibrated with excitement as I slipped off my leather jacket and slung it over the back of my bar seat.
“God, this place looks nice,” Roxie gushed as she plopped her tiny butt into the seat. “I’ve lived here for ten years and every day there’s a new place to discover. I’m kinda thinking an app, what about you?”
Roxie was a transplant like me, but from Illinois rather than Kentucky.
“Oh, hell yeah.” My gaze was stuck on the end of the bar. The seat to the right of Seven was empty—but featured a half-empty beer and wrapped silverware. He’s here with someone. “You pick it and I’ll share with you, sound good?”
“You think Chico wants something?” She leaned in closer to ask.
I shrugged, tipping myself closer to her so she could tell I was listening even though my gaze was fastened on the empty seat next to Seven. “Ask him. He’s probably hungry.”
A tall brute of a man appeared at the end of the bar, and I could almost hear the undertones of their conversation as he rejoined Seven in the empty seat. An easygoing conversation erupted, featuring genuine smiles from Seven and almost instantaneous laughter. The familiarity between them was striking—and extremely platonic. My heart beat a little easier as I realized this was probably Seven’s friend.
He’s just a friend, Jordan. He has friends.
I studied the man, something about his beard tipping me off. He seemed familiar, though I couldn’t say why. His blue patterned flannel shirt sleeves were rolled up the forearm.
Seven’s friend rubbed at the back of his neck, triggering my memory. I’d danced for him in the VIP room the other night. He’d pushed me about a special move while rubbing his neck in exactly the same way.
I stared at the menu in front of me, my vision going blurry as I mulled over this information.
“What’s wrong?” Roxie nudged me. “Can’t decide what to eat?”
I leaned close to her, keeping my voice a low whisper. “I’m just now realizing that Seven is here with someone I entertained in the VIP room the other night.”
“Oh.” Her mouth turned downward. “Are they friends?”
“I assume so, I mean they’re having dinner together.”
“So your bodyguard bought his friend a slot with you in the VIP room…” she trailed off, narrowing her eyes.
“Is this a nice gesture, or is it…something else?” I asked. Roxie didn’t know that I’d all but fucked Seven in the VIP room a few days before that. I still didn’t want anybody to know that I had feelings for my bodyguard, or that I’d coaxed him to cross that line at my workplace.
“Maybe he’s just trying to show his friend a good time,” she said with a dazzling grin. “You are the best, after all.”
Bless her—she was trying to be helpful.
But this friend of Seven’s had offered extra money if I’d do some physical stuff. It stuck out to me only because most of my customers knew better to ask for that. Or if they tried, it was quick, not persistent, like this guy had been. He’d asked like he knew a secret.
Seven had probably told him to come.
Because Seven knew what happened between us in the VIP room days before.
That left a couple different options: that Seven was sending me a prospective client for my fake new ‘side gig’…or he thought that since he got something in the VIP room, that his friend could too.
That last option sank like the Titanic to the bottom of my guts. I pressed a finger to my forehead, suddenly feeling dizzy and sick. Any relief I felt at discovering Seven wasn’t actually about to fuck some nameless blonde was replaced with humiliation and anxiety. Seven wasn’t trying to pass me around to his friends…was he?
The bartender showed up, asking for drink orders. I interrupted Roxie mid-sentence to say, “Three shots of tequila, please.”
“I can’t drink right now,” Chico reminded me.
“The extra’s for me,” I told him.
Roxie’s brows shot up. “Oooh, tequila sounds great. Can we try the crabcake appetizer, too?” She slid the menu toward the bartender.
He collected all our menus and nodded. “Coming right up.”
My skin prickled suddenly, an electricity gathering in my veins. I glanced over to see Seven coming our way—brows set, jaw flexing, looking neutral yet lethal. Desire fluttered through me, even though this was not the time. He approached Chico from behind, leaning to say something in his ear. Then he returned where he’d come from—walking right past me, not even sparing me a glance. Chico nearly tumbled off his seat in his haste to scamper behind him.
“Uh oh,” Roxie said, leaning back in her seat to watch them depart, just as I was doing. “Your boyfriend doesn’t look happy. Which one is your boyfriend again?”
“Neither of them.”
“The answer could have been both, you know.” She snorted, then her face grew serious. “Chico looks like he’s getting in trouble. Well, I think our spy mission officially failed. Aren’t you supposed to stay hidden as a spy?”
“Yeah, it turns out I’m not a really good spy.” I exhaled, realizing I’d stepped right into more shit than I’d anticipated. I didn’t know what I’d been expecting anyway—show up to his date and plop myself on Seven’s lap, claiming him as my own? Pushing away his Tinder hook-up and threatening her with legal action? This was all so stupid. And in my quest to claim Seven as my own, I’d stumbled upon the most unnerving possibility as all: he saw me as just a stripper to pass around to friends.
Fuck, I needed that tequila.
“I fucked up,” I muttered, my head dropping into my hands.
“Honey, it’s okay. I’ve fucked up a time or two as well. I won’t even tell you about the guy I dated who made me believe he was a French millionaire, but really was pulling an Anna Delvey. We’re here, we’ll have some crabcakes and get drunk. Sounds like a good night out if you ask me.” When I didn’t seem to be soothed, Roxie added, “Besides, we do crazy things when men look like that.” She tipped her head toward the end of the bar. “I’ve seen the way he looks at you. I thought there was something there.”
I perked up a little. “You did?”
“Yeah. I know he’s like, making sure you’re safe and all, but I dunno.” She shrugged, toying with a lock of her platinum blonde hair. “Seems like he’s got the hots for you too.”
At the far end of the restaurant, Chico and Seven were locked in a tense conversation. Chico nodded on occasion, frowning.
“I think Chico might be getting fired because of me,” I whispered, just as the bartender returned with our shots. Guilt cascaded through me.
“I’m sure we could convince him to reconsider.”
“You don’t know Seven like I do.”
“But two pairs of tits are better than one,” she said optimistically.
All I could do was laugh. Roxie had a way of easing life’s stressors. I’d seen her do it with all the girls at the club. I squeezed her arm, sending her a warm smile. She made me think it might be okay to open up sometimes.
“You’re really great, you know that?”
“Cheers to that,” Roxie said. We clinked our shot glasses carefully, then tipped the tequila down our throats. Faces puckered, we both grabbed a lime slice on the plate left by the bartender.
“That was smooth,” she said with a cough.
“Mm-hmm.” I looked toward the end of the bar. Seven sliced a hand through the air, his jaw flexing. He and Chico exchanged a few more words, then Chico returned, looking perplexed. He slid onto the bar seat wordlessly.
“Everything okay?” I asked.
Chico expelled a sigh. “Sure hope so.”
I rolled my lips in, determined not to let Chico take the fall for this. This was 100 percent my fault—my diabolical plan, my unexpected unraveling. I could practically imagine what Seven had told his friend:
Ask for the special move; she’ll hump your dick and almost fuck you.
I reached for the second shot, offering to split it with Roxie, who declined. I took the whole shot, enjoying the warmth and buzz.
It wasn’t long before the tipsiness took over. When the group of people sitting between me and Seven stood to leave, I seized my opportunity. I tapped Roxie’s arm, tipping my head toward the end of the bar. She followed me when I shifted seats, leaving no chairs between me and Seven. Chico looked like he hated the idea almost as much as Seven did.
I gasped, bringing my hand to my chest in mock surprise. “Seven?” The tequila had bitch-slapped me now. I was equal parts drunk, hurt, and confused. I already knew this wouldn’t end well. “I can’t believe you’re here! What a surprise!”
His friend’s gaze slid between me and Seven’s stony face. Seven’s jaw flexed as he stared at the beer in front of him.
“And you brought a friend?” I stuck my hand out, right through Seven’s field of vision. “I’m Jordan. You look so familiar though—haven’t we met before?”
His friend shifted uncomfortably as he shook my hand. “I’m Trojan. Nice to see you again, Jordan.”
“Ah!” I snapped my fingers, glancing at Seven. I estimated he was seething by now, but I couldn’t stop this train. “You called yourself Troy. We had such a fun time in the VIP room, didn’t we?”
Trojan coughed as he sipped at his beer, then he nodded. “Yep. Fun time.”
I turned myself fully toward Seven. He dragged his gaze over to me, the fire in his eyes a warning. “That was so nice of you to buy a VIP room session for your friend,” I said pointedly. “I bet you two always share things between each other, huh? Like just trading back and forth.”
Trojan cleared his throat, signaling the bartender.
Roxie pinched my elbow. “Hey, the crabcakes are here. Eat ‘em before I eat ‘em all.”
I turned away from Seven and toward the plate, heart hammering, palms hot. There was no way I could eat. I was too worked up. That damn tequila knew how to get into my head. Trojan’s discomfort at Seven’s side was all the proof I needed.
Roxie elbowed me.
“You should eat something,” she said in a quieter voice. “You just took two top-shelf tequila shots back-to-back. And I don’t know if you’ve seen yourself, but you’re not the size of a football player. Come on.”
I drew a deep breath through my nostrils, grabbing the fork Roxie offered me. I scooped the crabcake bite into my mouth, chewed, swallowed. It was food. That was all I could register. Two seats down, Chico rubbed at his face like he was desperate to teleport out of there. Poor kid. I’d ruined his chance to make a good first impression, but his sacrifice had been necessary.
I’d gotten what I wanted. I knew more about Seven. But I didn’t like the new clues I’d found.
“Eat more,” Roxie encouraged. I took another bite to placate her, dabbing at my mouth with the napkin. A bit of my burgundy lipstick showed on the white cloth, and I placed it neatly on the bar.
“You two are awfully quiet down there,” I spoke up after a moment. My attempt at a lighthearted smile evaporated almost as quickly as it had arrived. “Don’t let us kill the buzz.”
Trojan rubbed at the back of his neck. He was just about to say something when Seven lifted his palm, silencing his friend.
Back to square one.
I huffed, sliding out of my seat. “I’m going to the bathroom,” I muttered to Roxie. “I need to get my head straight.” She nodded, offering me a hopeful smile.
I stormed off, followed the restroom signs down a winding back hallway. I needed to breathe through these emotions pushing me to the edge of a cliff I didn’t want to tumble over. I was almost lost by the time the restrooms came into view. I burst into the dimly lit ladies room and pushed my palms against the granite countertop, drawing deep, cleansing breaths.
Tears threatened to join the pity party, but I forced them away. I would not cry over Seven. No fucking way. He couldn’t even be bothered to speak to me out there, to clear the air. I gritted my teeth, letting the anger roll through me again. And again. And again. I stoked the flames only to calm myself down over and over. I did this through multiple rounds of customers using the restroom, washing their hands, and leaving. I had no idea how long I stayed there, only that I fucking needed it.
When I could finally draw a deep breath without wanting to scream curse words, I knew I was ready to rejoin the world. I strode confidently out of the bathroom, my head held high. A hand grabbed my wrist on my second step out of the restroom, yanking me to the side. I gasped, spinning like a ballroom dancer over the carpeted floor until my back was up against the wall.
Seven caged me in, his neck bent to bring our faces closer together, his bulging biceps blocking me at both sides.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” he growled.
I swallowed hard, searching his handsome face. He was so angry. But the mere sight of him calmed the desperate, raucous parts inside me. Looking at him felt right.
“I thought you were on a date,” I admitted. His jaw flexed, the manly weight of his cologne settling around me like the most pleasant sweater.
This answer seemed to throw him off. He blinked a few times before he said, “Why did you come here if you thought I was on a date?”
I shrugged, unable to admit anything else. Especially after what I knew about him now. “I was curious about who she was. But I found out exactly what I needed to know.”
“And what the fuck do you think that is?” The edge returned to his voice.
Hurt lashed through me. I studied the swirl pattern on the carpet, unsure how much I should let him know. “You tried to whore me out to your friend.”
My voice broke on the last word and I covered my mouth with my hand, willing the emotion to stay inside. I drew a deep breath, forcing myself to plow ahead. I peeked up at him, finding real confusion wrought across his face.
“Do you know how degrading that is?” I asked, my voice pinched. I had mere seconds before I completely unraveled in front of him. Then he’d see that I’d actually developed feelings for him. I felt stupid enough around him—this was just the final nail in the coffin.
I tried to push past him but he didn’t let me by. Instead, he took my chin between his thumb and forefinger, directing my gaze to him.
All of the anger had dissolved from his face. Now he looked torn. Distraught, even.
“You thought I was whoring you out to Trojan?” he repeated softly. I nodded, feeling my chin tremble under his thumb. He pressed harder, tenderness flooding his face.
“Jordan.” He said it so softly I thought I imagined it. A tear escaped, rolling down my cheek, and he wiped it away with his thumb.
“I’m a little drunk,” I admitted.
“I wasn’t whoring you out. I was gathering information. I’m sorry if it seemed—” He stopped, his throat bobbing. He drew a breath. “I’m sorry if it seemed that way. But I needed to find out if you were telling the truth about…what happened in the VIP room.”
I sniffed, searching his face as he spoke. Every word out of his mouth landed like a burst of aloe after the worst sunburn. Cool and refreshing, a godsend.
“I didn’t think that you were testing a new routine like you said,” he went on. “So I sent Trojan to test my theory. I never thought…” He shook his head, his gaze dropping to the floor. “I never thought you’d piece it together like you did. But I can see how, with you showing up here, recognizing Trojan…”
“I don’t do that stuff for anyone,” I admitted in a small voice. “Ever. I never have, and I never will. But… I couldn’t help myself with you. I just made up the side gig story. I was trying to cover my tracks, because…” I couldn’t say the rest. That I was falling for him. That I wanted so much more than I’d ever wanted from anybody else.
The corner of his mouth curled up. The warmth in his eyes sucked me in, and I was a goner. This, right here? This moment was what I lived for—Seven seeing me, wanting me, appreciating me. My body arched toward him, needing contact.
“So if you thought I was out with a woman… you showed up because you were jealous.”
I pouted a little as the smug smile stretched wider across his face. “I just needed to know who you’d pick to date.”
“You little brat.” He said it triumphantly, like he was deeply pleased now that all the pieces had clicked together. “Well you can rest easy. I don’t date.”
My insides vibrated with need now. Being this close to him after reaching such highs and lows of vulnerability, I needed him to touch me. Kiss me. Fuck me. Something.
“Fine. You don’t date.” I huffed. “But I know you can kiss.”
His gaze turned dark—almost predatory. “Are you asking me to kiss you?”
“You’re off the clock.” I reached for his chest, my fingers tripping over the contours of his chest through the soft polo shirt. I fisted the shirt, jerking him closer. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about those kisses in the VIP room, Seven. Please.”
The cocktail of expressions that crossed his face fascinated me. His heated gaze dragged down my body, then back up to my face.
“You make it hard to say no when you’re dressed like this.” His other arm left the wall, sliding around my waist. Soon, the space between our bodies evaporated. I was flush against his rock-hard body. Every inch of me sighed with relief, but I wanted more. So much more.
“Then don’t say no.” I sought his lips, but he dipped his head away.
“You know I’m supposed to,” he murmured.
“I don’t care.” I wriggled against him, squeezing my arms around his torso. I never wanted to leave this spot. I’d go to my grave cuddling with Seven at the back of this restaurant. He was worth it. “Don’t you feel the same way?”
His gaze grew darker, hungrier. “You have no fucking idea.”
“Then put us both out of our misery.”
He cupped the side of my face with his hand, a rough, warm palm sliding over my cheek and around the back of my head. Every inch of my body ignited with pinpricks as he dipped down, claiming my lips with his own. A kiss so hungry, so needy, emerged that I almost choked on the passion. His mouth crashed against mine, our tongues seeking, teeth bumping, small noises emerging as we feasted on each other’s kisses. Seven brought his other hand up, cradling my face, our kisses finding a sensual, desperate rhythm.
A rhythm that, if we were anywhere else, would send our clothes flying in mere moments.
His cock stiffened against my belly. I squeezed my arms tighter around his waist, rocking my hips in a slow circle against him. I was powerless to resist while he tongue-fucked me like this. I needed this and so much more. The chemistry between us threatened to level the whole building.
“Oh my God, Seven,” I moaned between kisses, clawing at his low back. “Please. More. I need more.”
He paused, smiling against my lips. The bathroom door creaked open further down the hall, causing him to jerk his head in that direction.
“Fuck, Jordan.” He drew a deep breath, shaking his head. “Okay. That’s enough.” The man looked positively drugged, his gaze stuck on my lips. I could see him second-guessing himself.
“Is it?” I asked with a small laugh. “I thought we were just getting started.”
“Don’t even tempt me,” he growled, his hands dropping to my waist, sliding down over my ass cheeks. He squeezed hard, eliciting a gasp. “That’s not how this shit works.”
“Then educate me”—I smoothed my hands along the collar of his shirt—“about how this shit works exactly.”
He met my gaze, his eyes hooded. “You go back to your friend, and I go back to mine. You have your girls night. I have my guys night. And then you go back to the apartment with Chico when you’re done.”
When I started to protest, he interrupted me, pressing a finger to my lips. “This is how it has to go. I’m not going to show my ass to my new guy on day one, and you’re not going to send me these pouty looks across the bar that have me ready to haul your ass over my shoulder and take you home myself.”
I bit back a laugh. “I don’t mind that last part of the plan.”
“Jordan.” He leveled me with a look. “Promise me.”
I pouted, and he grunted.
“Not that look,” he warned.
“Do I get more kisses tomorrow?” I asked hopefully.
He sighed, his jaw flexing. “That’s something we have to talk about tomorrow.”
It didn’t seem entirely positive, but I didn’t care. I knew the most important parts, which were that he fucking wanted me too, and he hadn’t been whoring me out to his friend.
The rest of the details could come later.
“Fine,” I whispered. “But you should stop by the bathroom first if you don’t want to show your ass like you said. I left my mark, which is how I roll.” I winked, enjoying the smear of lipstick across his lips one last time before I strutted down the hallway.
The last thing I heard him say before I turned the corner was, “Brat.”