Chapter fifteen
Guilty Pleasures Gentlemen's Club
Violet
My song starts with the lights coming up. I turn and strut to the front of the stage feeling incredible in my minute thong with my tits hanging out. Never did I think I could do something like this and feel in control, but hell I do. Men literally drool over me and offer their money for a night.
I fucking love saying no.
Part of the reason I’ve enjoyed my short time at the club so much is that I know it can’t last long. The doctor told me I’m past twelve weeks now and will start to show soon. A pregnant pole dancer isn’t a sought-after entertainer, so I’ll enjoy it while I can.
Being Violet Brown is fun. Having my freedom is life changing.
No one tells me what to do. No one advises when they’ll see me.
I live with girls I now consider friends.
Apart from my shifts here, my time is my own.
No one demands it. No man is a higher priority in my life than I am.
That is a change I plan to keep, whatever happens next.
When I dance, the crowd is invisible to me.
Sure, I hear the calls of appreciation, but my eyes never look to the men below.
I keep them fixed firmly above their heads.
But this time, I feel his focus on me. Moving to a basic invert, I’m upside down on the pole as my eyes meet his furious brown ones.
Harrison stands immediately in front of me, his arms crossed over his chest.
“Get the fuck down from there,” he mouths.
“No,” I snap back silently. “I’m working.”
He moves to climb onto the stage when I see Marshall striding over from the bar and taking his arm.
Harry glares at him, pulling it out of his grasp.
Marshall leans forward and whispers something in his ear.
I try to ignore the altercation in front of me and concentrate on my dance.
After finishing a spin, I look at the men and see Marshall cradling his nose.
A larger man has joined the group and is herding both of them toward the bar.
The girl behind it already has three glasses of what looks like whiskey lined up in preparation. Shit.
His eyes never move from me the whole time I’m on stage.
He’s furious, that much is obvious. The other men speak to each other, but Harrison never joins in the conversation.
He sits and watches my every move while sipping whatever amber liquid is in his glass.
If steam could rise from someone’s ears, it would be from his.
After my set is complete, I retreat to the dressing room.
“Who was that?” Samantha shrieks as she bursts through the changing room door. I’m sitting at a dressing table removing the heavy makeup from my face. My eyes remain fixed on my reflection.
“Who?” I ask, feigning ignorance.
“Um…the hottie that was glowering at the stage while you were dancing.” She holds her hands out. “Then who proceeded to punch Marshall square in the face when he tried to move him.”
“Oh, him,” I reply with a shrug. “That’s Harrison.”
“Harrison?” she says, raising her eyebrows. “Why would Harrison be so upset to find you performing? I assume you know each other.”
I laugh then promptly burst into tears. She walks forward and wraps her arms around my shoulders. We look at each other in the mirror. “Violet, what’s going on?”
“He’s…” I trail off, not knowing how to explain who he is.
My friend. My ad hoc lover. My brother’s best friend.
My soul mate I can’t have. He’s always been forbidden.
I was warned constantly throughout my teenage years to stay away from him.
Though my father supported him, he’s always seen him as a charity case to a degree.
Something to show off as a work in progress, a success story he can boast about to his friends. “He works with my brothers.”
“And what do they do?”
“They’re lawyers.” Her eyes pop open. “Harrison is one of the best defense lawyers in the city. The three of them own a firm in the financial district.” My explanation tumbles from me. The truth I’ve been hiding for weeks spills out into the open. Who I am. The type of people I’m connected to.
“Well, I’m assuming by his little outburst that isn’t all he is, a colleague of your brothers.” She narrows her eyes, willing me to volunteer more information.
“We have history, but things are complicated. We hadn’t seen each other in fourteen years until June. I suspect someone told him I’m here and this is him come to take me home to my family.” The thought is depressing. “I ran away to Chicago when I was nineteen. I’ve only just come back.”
“You don’t need to go anywhere you don’t want to,” she tells me firmly.
“You have a place to stay with me, always. Us girls have got to stick together.”
I smile at her in thanks; this woman has become a closer friend than anybody ever has in the past few weeks.
Female companionship isn’t something I’m used to having.
A friend to rely on isn’t an attribute I want to lose.
“Things aren’t that simple,” I whisper. “You see, Sam…” As I go to tell her about my precious cargo, the dressing room door swings open, and Harry storms into the room.
“Violet,” he growls, coming to my side and taking my elbow. “Put some fucking clothes on. You’re coming with me, now.”
“No,” I shout back, and he glowers in response. “Take your hands off me.”
“This isn’t a fucking question. I’m telling you, you’re going home.” I pull my arm from his grip and push him hard in the chest. “Don’t push me. I’ll drag you if I have to.” His eyes are dark, and not from arousal. He’s livid.
“I told you, I’m not your problem. Now fuck off. I’m doing fine without you and my masochistic brothers. Go back to your boys’ nights and ‘female entertainment.’ You shouldn’t be in here. Samantha, call security.”
The woman beside me is gazing at an irate Harry, who is continuing to lecture me.
I’m not listening. “Sam, security.” I tap her arm with my hand. “Fucking focus, will you.”
“Would you put some bloody clothes on?” he mutters again, running a hand through his hair. A familiar redness appears at the base of his throat, the color creeping up to his cheeks. He’s panty-wetting to look at when he’s mad.
“Why?” I snap. “It’s not as if you’ve not seen it all before. You’ve definitely been up close and personal with these.” I shake my tits at him, and he opens his mouth to respond when Marshall and the other tall man I saw appear in the doorway.
“Waite,” the man barks, moving between Harry and me. “Come with me, now. You’re going to get yourself thrown out of here and then you won’t have done what you came to do.”
“And what would that be?” I ask sharply. The unknown man turns to me. His eyes run over my face, and he smirks.
“To take you home to Mummy and Daddy, sweetheart. They know all about your little predicament.”
My stomach falls—shit, my parents know I’m back in Britain and pregnant.
“Daddy is not too pleased, I believe. I can’t say your brothers are particularly overjoyed with the news they’re going to be uncles either.”
“You’re pregnant!” Samantha whispers in my ear crossly. I wave her away with my hand. “Is it his?” she says, signaling to Harry.
“No.”
“Whose is it then?” she asks, her face contorted in confusion. “How many men do you have, Violet?”
“I’ll tell you later. At this point, none, and I don’t want one.”
The tall man takes Harry by the shoulders, turns him around, then pushes him out the door leaving Marshall standing with Samantha and me.
I drop to sit on the bench next to the nearest dressing table and my head falls into my hands.
Samantha places my pink silk robe over my shoulders.
The tears fall freely as my reality surfaces.
Marshall crouches down beside me, and I glance at him.
“Did you tell them I was here?” I ask him quietly and he nods. “Why?”
“I’ve worked with Damon for years,” he starts to explain.
“Is Damon the big guy?”
He nods again. “Chief Constable Damon McKinney, Head of the National Serious and Organized Crime Unit,” he tells me.
“He put a call out to his men on the ground to look out for you. Imagine my surprise when I found you here. I didn’t tell them straight away, but then he told me about the baby.”
He pauses, considering his words. “Violet, I couldn’t in good conscience not tell him. This is not somewhere an expectant mother should be working.”
“That’s my choice,” I stammer as my tears fall harder.
“Sometimes we need people to take control,” he continues.
“Especially when we end up somewhere we never expected to be. I didn’t want to break your trust, but I had to decide what was the priority. Who was the priority. The innocent party in all this was that baby.”
His eyes move to my stomach then back to my face.
“I wasn’t planning on working here long,” I justify, and he smiles softly.
“Most girls never do. In the beginning they enjoy the buzz this life offers, then it becomes an obligation. I’ve told you this before. It’s hard to get off the wheel once you’re strapped to it.”
He sighs sadly. “My sister is proof of that in both life and death. I couldn’t save her, but I had the opportunity to help you. So, I took it.”
I open my mouth to argue when Samantha squeezes my elbow. “He’s right, Violet. You have a lot more to think about and consider. Someone else who needs to be your priority. It maybe doesn’t feel like it now, but tonight was meant to happen. It’s time to go home.”
“I don’t have a home.”
“You do.” Harry’s voice cuts through our conversation as he re-enters the room.
“You always have a home with me, if you need it. Both of you.”
He walks over and stands between me and Marshall.
We rise, and he focuses on Marshall. “I’m sorry about your nose.”
The bruising is starting to show across the bridge of it, a purple arch highlighting beneath his eyes.
“Completely understandable in the circumstances,” he replies with a chuckle. “If I’d found my lady in a similar position, I would have gone postal too.”
“I’m not his woman,” I hiss, annoyed. Harry glances at me but doesn’t argue. His attention turns back to Marshall.
“Thank you for alerting Damon to Violet’s whereabouts. Her family and I are very appreciative of your assistance in this matter. If I can help you at all in the future, don’t hesitate to ask. Violet is very precious to me, even if she doesn’t realize it.”
A sad smile appears on his lips and my heart strains slightly.
“Perhaps there is something you could do for me,” Marshall says. Damon stands silently watching the proceedings. He is the epitome of quiet domination. “I believe you and a few colleagues are involved in some investigative matters that are of interest to me.”
“Perhaps,” Harry replies evasively. “Do elaborate on what they are and where your interest lies.”
“Heroin.” Harry’s face doesn’t change with the word—he looks impassively at the other man. Everyone stands so silently you could hear a pin drop. “You and your friends are trying to dismantle one of the biggest drug rings in London. That’s the word on the street anyway.”
“And if we do want to do as you say, why would that be of interest to you?”
“I want in,” he answers simply. “Innocent people need to stop dying at the hands of evil bastards to line their pockets.”
Harry looks at Damon, who nods. “I’m sure that can be arranged,” he replies. “Damon will contact you regarding the next meeting. There has been new information—things are heating up and we are getting closer to the source. Someone such as yourself would be an asset to our team.”
“Excellent,” Marshall exclaims, rubbing his hands together. “Good old-fashioned justice. I’ll see you boys soon.” His gaze moves to Samantha and me. “And ladies, until the next time we meet.” He bows exaggeratedly then leaves.
Samantha’s jaw has almost been touching the floor during this whole discussion.
My fury has been rising fast, ready to explode to the surface the next time someone tries to tell me what I need to do.
Damon moves to Sam’s side and taps her shoulder.
She looks to him and he signals they should leave. Before moving, she turns to me.
“You don’t need to do anything you don’t want to do,” she says.
“You and baby can stay with us until you figure things out. Remember what we said, Violet. You are putting yourself first, no one else.”
She glances at Harry, who is standing silently listening to our exchange. “No one.” Then she walks out.
As soon as the door closes, I spin to face him.
Stepping forward, I rise onto my tiptoes so I’m standing directly under his nose.
“You,” I say, poking at his chest with my finger, “you are the most confusing bastard on the fucking planet.”
His eyes meet mine, then drop to his feet.
“Why the fuck do you care if I’m dancing here? What has it got to do with you? You’re not my boyfriend. You’re not my baby’s father. You’re…”
“What am I?” he whispers softly. His lips drop to my forehead, kissing me gently, the intimate gesture startling me.
“You’re Harry.” It’s all I can say. There’s no other way to explain who or what he is to me.
There aren’t enough words to describe how he makes me feel, so safe and so unhinged in the same moment.
Both centered and confused. The emotion this man sends surging through my body is deliciously unbearable, but oh so addictive.
"Who is Harry?” he asks, and I glance up at him, my eyes filled with unshed tears. “Because in all honesty, Vi, I have no idea. The more I meet him, the more I think he’ll always be just the boy your brother found in a ditch.”
“Don’t say that. You’re so much more than your past.”
A sad smile plays on his lips. Tonight, he looks like the young man I fell for all those years ago, not the hardened version I’ve met now. His vulnerable edges are visible once more.
“This is why I’ve always adored you,” he says, and my heart beats harder.
“When you look at me, you don’t see a peasant, you see me.”
He leans down and kisses me softly on the lips.
When he withdraws, they tingle with the loss.
“But I’m dangerous and not the right man for you. I should never have instigated anything romantic between us. I’ve been cautioned often enough since you were fourteen. Not that I fucking listened.”
He laughs, lifting his focus to the ceiling before it returns to me.
“What’s so funny?” I ask. My eyes search his face for a clue as to where this conversation is headed.
I was given the same warning. If I find out there is more to this than friendship, Violet, you won’t be seeing him again.
He won’t be welcome here. My father had watched us like a hawk when Harry came to visit.
If there was so much as a look he didn’t like, I was told to leave the room.
Go do something girly. Leave the boys to it. You shouldn’t be here.
“Nothing is funny,” he replies, shaking his head. “It’s ironic that the man who saved me, helped me become the best version of myself, is also my greatest hurdle in life. He puts the barrier between me and what I truly want.”
“And what’s that?”
“You.”