CHAPTER ELEVEN
Reynolds
I was sitting at one of the best tables at Sugar watching the dancers absentmindedly while talking to a few of my biggest donors. One of them, Thaddeus Clammett, was a real asshole, but he was rich as hell, so I put up with him.
“I think it’s funny how the media is saying you’re a changed man, Reynolds,” Thaddeus said. “We all know you’re still here every other night.” He laughed and his cronies did, too.
“Actually,” I corrected, “I’m still coming over here, but it’s to work out, talk to friends, and come to Sugar.
I haven’t fucked anyone in Cayenne in a while.
” It was true. Ever since I’d seen Nadine that night at Sugar, I’d kept it in my pants.
I wasn’t sure why since Carmen had made it clear I couldn’t have her, but I dreamed about her every night and thought about her when I took myself in hand in the shower each morning.
It doubted it would last much longer, but I might as well advertise my celibacy while I could.
“Right,” Clammett snorted. “Like you’d be satisfied with that ice princess you’ve been dragging around with you everywhere.”
I smiled as I studied him over the rim of my glass of whiskey. He wasn’t an unattractive man, but he wasn’t handsome, either. He was in his mid-fifties and a bit on the heavier side. No one would describe him as a silver fox, but women didn’t seem to find him repulsive, either.
I didn’t like the man, but he didn’t need to know that.
He’d always been a hot and cold supporter of mine.
It seemed like he would be upset with one of my policies for a couple of months and then in support of me a few weeks later.
He was one of my most difficult campaign donors.
That’s one reason I was sitting at a table with him and his buddies instead of at the Salazar table with my friends.
I had to woo him. Not only did I want his money behind me, but I also needed to make sure he didn’t end up supporting any of my opponents.
Like Jasper Hill.
Every now and then I looked for my angel.
Nadine. But I didn’t see her. She didn’t seem to be one of the hostesses tonight.
I had talked to Nico after that picture of me behind her had ended up going semi-viral in West Bay.
I had wanted to make sure she didn’t get in trouble.
He assured me she was fine but wouldn’t say much about it.
“God, I love the tits on that one,” one of Clammett’s friends said as he stared at Madeline up on the stage.
“She’s a feisty one,” Clammett agreed. “I’ve paid her to go down on me a few times in VIP and let me just say—she is excellent. Probably the best I’ve ever had.” He stared at her for a few more beats then turned to me. “You had her go down on you, Reynolds?”
I shook my head. “I haven’t been in the VIP rooms. I prefer Cayenne.”
“Fuck,” Thaddeus scoffed. “The extra cost isn’t worth it, especially since none of these girls are down there.
” He gestured around the cavernous club, taking in the hostesses, bartenders, and, of course, the dancers.
“The prime pussy is up here. Why would I pay more to go down there to fuck some socialites or businesswomen?”
“Personal preference, I guess,” I said, being diplomatic. I had a feeling Thaddeus Clammett spent as much in the VIP rooms each month as the extra surcharge to extend his membership to include Cayenne. I sure as hell wasn’t going to say that, though.
The stage went dark after Madeline left, and I turned to talk to one of my other donors about the crime issues in the city and how my special anti-crime initiatives would change things.
“What in the hell is happening?” Thaddeus’ voice broke into our conversation.
I turned to look at whichever dancer was onstage and had his attention. I did a double take. It was Nadine. But she wasn’t dressed the way the other girls always were. She wasn’t wearing expensive lingerie-style lace scraps in strategic places. She was dressed like a very sexy cowgirl.
I quit listening to anything going on around me and stared at her. She looked both gorgeous and a little campy. But I didn’t care. My eyes just devoured her.
And then the music started. Gone were the classy, rhythmic jazzy tunes with a beat that most of the strippers danced to. The strains of some country song from twenty or thirty years ago came over the loudspeakers instead.
And then she started line dancing. I’ve never watched something with that much focus in my life.
Her tits bounced every time she moved, and when she did some sassy turns, her ass just about showed underneath her tiny skirt.
Her moves got dirtier and sexier as she moved to the pole, ditching her top and baring her amazing rack to everyone.
That’s when it happened. The group of ultra wealthy society men started cheering and clapping when she let her breasts free. And when the skirt followed her top? Insanity. Everyone was whooping, whistling, and hollering. People started clapping in time to the music.
I recognized it as the song “Fancy” and couldn’t hide my grin.
She was clever. That song was about a poor girl who sleeps her way up the social ladder in town at the request of her desperate mother.
Based on the little Nico had said about her background, I wondered if this song felt autobiographical to her.
When the song was over and she did some hilarious curtsies—did she think we were royalty?—and then blew us kisses, we all clapped like crazy for her. Then we booed when the light went off and she was gone.
“Gentlemen,” Thaddeus Clammett said, looking mesmerized, “I’m in love.”
No one pointed out that Thaddeus had also claimed to be in love with all three of his ex-wives. And his current girlfriend.
I tried not to let it show on my face that it bothered me—a lot—that Thaddeus was talking about Nadine. I wouldn’t let my angel get within ten feet of him. I realized I was clenching a fist underneath the table and had to take a deep breath and flex my hand.
Then Nadine was back. And she talked to us. I hated the guys yelling to her and getting her kisses. And when she talked about giving good head, I got hard. Damn. Just at her talking about it.
She did two more songs, and by the end of her routine, I knew I was in trouble.
I looked around at all the other men’s faces.
All I saw was lust. They weren’t feeling what I was.
I felt lust, too, but it was more than that.
I felt protective of her. I wanted to run up there and put a blanket around her so that no one else would see her.
Hell, I wasn’t just protective. I felt possessive. Like she was mine.
I wanted to take her to Cayenne and have her all to myself for hours and hours. God. The things I wanted to do to her.
But Carmen said she was only going to be available in the Cinnamon auction.
And I couldn’t do that. I knew part of that process was renting a condo for the woman you won in the auction.
It would be stupid for me to do that this close to the election.
It would be too risky that someone would see us together. Or see me going to or from her place.
Of course, the condo complex they used for the auction girls was Salazar Heights. Nico lived in the penthouse there. If people saw me coming and going, they’d just assume I was there to see him. Everyone knew we were friends. Hmm. Maybe I could do it…
No. I couldn’t risk it. It was crazy to even think about it.
“I have to have her, gentlemen,” Clammett declared.
“Good luck with that,” I said, not thinking before I spoke.
“What do you mean?” He frowned.
“She’s going into the auction the first Friday in June.”
“How do you know that?”
“Because I asked about her about a week ago. I wanted her to go to a VIP room with me.
Carmen said the only way I’d get her would be to bid on her in the next auction.”
He narrowed his eyes at me. “I thought you said you never go to the VIP rooms.”
“I don’t.” I took a slug from my glass, then held up a hand for a refill. Glory, one of the
sexiest hostesses, was there almost immediately. It made me a little sick how Clammett tried to fondle her as she retrieved his empty glass, but she handled it like a pro.
“I’ve changed my mind about the auction,” Thaddeus said, causing my head to snap in his
direction. “I think I’ll be paying the extra dues so that I can bid on little miss country up there.”
“The auction is an additional fee beyond membership at Cayenne.” I protested. “You only
belong to Sugar now, right? You have to pay for Saffron, Sugar, Cayenne, and Cinnamon, plus an additional surcharge just to be in the auction.”
“Then I’ll pay it,” he said, his eyes glued to Nadine. She’d come out in the audience wearing a
hostess costume and was talking to the Salazars. I didn’t like the way Leo Salazar was handsy with her.
God. What was my problem? Why was I acting like she belonged to me? The girl barely knew I was alive. Why did I care if Leo was all over her or if Thaddeus Clammett was the one to win her in the auction?
It wasn’t my business.
I had a campaign to win. I couldn’t focus on anything but that right now.
So why couldn’t I stop staring at her as she laughed and talked with Carmen and the rest of
the Salazars?
Why couldn’t I quit thinking about her?
And why in the world was I texting Nico that I was interested in paying to be in the auction?