Chapter 9
Nine
RHEA
I understood what men wanted from me way earlier than I should’ve.
Way earlier than they should’ve.
In that way, whatever this psychic ability was called had truly been a gift, helping me navigate the world more safely—physically and emotionally—than most women had the privilege of.
Most because I wasn’t alone.
My mother, her mother, and her mother before that… I came from a long line of women I’d long thought would be disappointed by our gift ending with me, because having a baby—an heir to the ability—with any of these niggas had loooong been an absolute fuck no.
And then Micah McKnight told me—while I was impaled on his dick—that he would be getting me pregnant at some point in the presumably near future.
And I hadn’t run away screaming.
Wild.
Especially when you considered that, a month ago, he and I had never even had a conversation.
I didn’t do… pressed .
It simply was not my vibe.
And yet, I’d spent multiple nights booed up at Micah’s house in the hills, woken up hungry for his dick, consistently kissed the man goodbye like he was going off to war.
Pressed was exactly what it was giving.
Premium cold, at that.
I could not get him off my mind, which was unfortunate. I had no business being so distracted. I’d spent the past week shadowing at Recoverie, and my last shift at Dream was imminent.
I needed a clear head.
Luckily, I hadn’t actually run into Micah at work yet, and neither Delaney nor Kingston had mentioned him to me. Right now, he was gearing up for conditioning, not recovery, so the timing was working in my favor.
I was in so deep, so fast.
Even when we weren’t in physical proximity—when I was getting breakfast, working out, running errands, trying to read a book, getting ready for work—I kept getting these… flashes.
Little bursts of feelings that were not my own, and really only made sense to be coming from Micah.
Heat.
Focus.
Anticipation.
The static in my head, the feeling that settled low in my belly every time it happened… yeah.
Abnormal, and freaking distracting while I was the busiest I’d been in a long time.
And yet… I kinda liked it?
As insane as it—all of this—was, this new connection with Micah felt natural and so damn fulfilling. Like something I hadn’t even known I was missing until it was right there, impossible to ignore.
Which made it even more disconcerting to go a whole day without hearing from him.
No calls.
No texts.
No flashes.
No feelings.
Nothing.
And I had too much going on to do anything about it except overthink it, and convince myself not that something was wrong, but that this was another mind game.
Ugh.
I spent the whole day with that as my reality, and by the time I got to Dream for my last ever shift… whew.
I was thoroughly irritated with myself, for letting a man—even one who looked like Micah and claimed we were each other’s future—have me so off kilter.
I had a great time, sure.
The cat and mouse thing had been fun.
But I had shit to do, and he clearly did too.
I wasn’t reading anything into those “flashes”.
I didn’t read things into anything.
I liked clear communication and action.
So far, Micah had only been capable of one of those.
Which was perfect, actually.
The man needed a flaw, something I could latch onto and stay irritated about, ground myself back in reality. Irritation that was clearly showing on my face based on the way Luna’s eyes went wide when I met her in the dressing room at Dream.
“Who pissed you off on your last day?” she asked, pulling me into a hug.
Before I could answer, Chastity chimed in. “That nigga Micah has her tight. She was mugging out the window the whole way here.”
I sucked my teeth. “How the hell would you know? I haven’t said anything to you about him.”
“You’ve been spending nights at his house. Security check-ins, remember?”
No, actually.
I had completely forgotten about the app Reverie’s security team offered for all the girls’ phones, that sent an automatic location ping a few times a day. It was an unfortunate thing, but from bottle girls to blackjack dealers to waitstaff to showgirl, female employees had exponentially higher chances of getting snatched and taken somewhere they didn’t want to be.
So any little thing helped.
And apparently, could be used to be fucking nosy.
Oh, shit.
Does this mean Delaney and Kingston already know…
“You’ve been fucking Micah McKnight?!” Luna squealed, pulling my attention back to the conversation at hand, and prompting me to glare daggers at Chas.
Not because I minded Luna knowing, generally speaking. She and I were close enough that I would’ve told her eventually… just not until I knew what was actually happening.
I surely didn’t appreciate getting aired out.
“You bitches are too deep in my business— exit ,” I huffed, stuffing my purse in my locker. “I don’t even want to talk about it now.”
“ Please ,” Luna begged. “I need something to get me through tonight. You’re already abandoning us! You’re not gonna leave a heartbroken girl without any gossip, are you?”
My eyebrows went up. “First of all, my life is not gossip. Second… heartbroken? About me leaving? Or you and ol’ girl from the craps table fell out?”
Luna snorted. “More like crashed out. Her fiancé showed up, and was not pleased with how she was spending the honeymoon. I had to call the police; he started kicking her ass in the hotel room!”
“He?!” Chas and I exclaimed in unison. “I thought she was gay?”
“Bitch me too!” Luna shrugged. “I was gonna marry her.”
Chas sucked her teeth. “Nah, you know where home is, baby.”
“I was literally traumatized after fooling with you.”
“Traumatized?” Chas chuckled, licking her lips. “That’s crazy, ’cause I seem to remember somebody’s legs up in my backseat, yodeling?—”
“ Yodeling?! ” I choked. “In the back seat I rode here in?!”
“Don’t act scandalized, I know Micah been turning your ass every way but loose,” Chas scoffed.
“Right,” Luna huffed, crossing her arms. “That’s what we’re supposed to be talking about anyway.”
“Ain’t shit to talk about,” I denied. “It was… cool.”
I couldn’t even get that lie off my lips without my voice cracking.
I was literally choking on the absurdity of calling what happened between us “cool” .
And Luna and Chas knew it, exchanging a “bitch please” look.
“Now why would you lie like that?” Luna asked. “Even before y’all fucked that man was looking at you like he already had y’all’s forever home picked out.”
Chas smirked. “Yeah, ‘cool’ is the last thing I’m believing. That nigga was pussy whipped and he hadn’t even smelled it yet.”
“Y’all are doing a lot.”
“And you’re not doing enough,” Luna countered. “You gonna see him again?”
I shrugged, trying my best to give off indifference. “He hasn’t called today.”
Chas scoffed. “Ooooh, he hasn’t called the phone he bought in what… twelve hours since you left him and his dick at home?”
“You know what? I’m hanging up on you, not in the mood, ” I called over my shoulder, already walking out.
Luna cackled. “Wowww, we struck a nerve.”
“’Cause like I said… every way but loose!”
I flipped them both off without turning around, pushing through the door into the lounge. “Y’all got it.”
“Nah, he got it,” Luna shot back. “And we’ll be here when you’re ready to admit it.”
I rolled my eyes, but I couldn’t stop the smile that crept in as I stepped behind the bar.
“Ayyyyy, last shift Rhea in the building!” one of the bartenders shouted, and instantly, a cheer erupted from the crew behind the bar.
“To the baddest bitch to ever do it!” somebody called out.
“Don’t get all corporate and forget about us!” another added.
I laughed, shaking my head as I accepted a shot, holding it up. “Y’all are so dramatic.”
“Nah,” one of the bartenders said, grinning. “You’re really about to be missed, Rhea. For real.”
I downed the shot.
Slapped the glass on the bar.
And smiled.
“In the words of my girl Vicky… Let’s make it a good bye, y’all!”
I t was easy to lose myself in the distraction of work once the money started flowing.
Laughing, flirting, dancing, popping bottles—it all blended together after a while, becoming an assembly line of things to just do, over and over.
I was built for this, though, and could usually play the game well.
Tonight?
My last night at Dream?
My head wasn’t in it.
I’d wanted to leave feeling light, welcoming the next chapter with high energy and fun. Instead, I was distracted and annoyed, because I kept thinking about Micah’s ass.
Ugh.
“Damn,” a low voice drawled as soon as I stepped into a section I hadn’t been in yet, the section Micah had been in the night we first interacted, reserved for the biggest of spenders. “I was wondering how long I’d have to spend money before you made it over here.”
I planted a smile on my face, not exactly hard considering who was currently leaning forward in his seat, hands clasped, watching me.
Santiago Ruiz.
Very rich.
Very fine.
Very talented pro soccer player.
Very covered—controversially—in Renegados motorcycle club tattoos.
Very much a problem for anybody who didn’t know how to handle him.
“Now Santi… you know I’m a busy woman,” I countered, approaching, but not getting close enough for him to touch me, because he absolutely would if he could. I knew from experience. “Good things take time.”
I know that pussy tastes like candy.
I blinked, keeping my expression neutral to make sure no irritation showed on my face.
“You gotta stop teasing me like this,” he said, scooting forward. “Playing hard to get…”
“Ain’t nobody playing with you,” I laughed. “I’m working .”
“Working too hard to have a drink with me? You’ve been throwing back shots with other sections all night,” he said. “I’ve been watching you make the rounds… they more special than me or something?”
Yes, actually.
I turned up my smile. “It’s my last night here; just a little celebratory thing I’ve definitely indulged too much of.”
“You forgot to save some for me,” he countered with a smirk. “Let me take you out.”
I’m gonna bend her ass over my bike… Watch it boun ? —
“I’m flattered, but I’m gonna decline.”
Santiago’s smirk didn’t falter, but I felt the shift, the moment his patience started to fray.
“I don’t like hearing no from you.” His voice was still smooth, but the undertone… sharpened.
And this was exactly why I couldn’t entertain him. Not here, and definitely not later. I was already pushing it, considering he was technically a client at Recoverie. I hadn’t had to work with him yet, but it was only a matter of time.
I cocked my head. “I’d imagine you don’t like hearing it from anybody.”
His jaw flexed.
I’m gonna kick this motherfucker in the dick.
My gaze shot to where Chas was standing a few feet away, and I shot her a smile, letting her know I was okay.
Because I was.
But then, as I turned back to him, Santi pushed up to a stand, grabbing my wrist to pull me into him.
The moment he touched me, the whole club blurred.
A body hitting pavement. Blood pooling, dark and thick, under neon lights. A fist connecting with a jaw. The sick crack of bone. The glint of brass knuckles. A gun pressed against someone’s temple. Santiago’s voice, smooth, taunting that the stranger should’ve known better.
“Ay, back up off her,” Chas demanded, trying to get between me and Santiago.
“Or what, bitch?” he shot back at her, as a few of his fellow Renegados approached.
It would only take a moment for more Reverie security to shut this shit down... if they’d gotten there first.
“ You cool?”
An instant chill swept the area.
Oh, no.
Micah had arrived first, and he was not talking to me, asking if I was okay. His words—those two little words—were laced with menace, his mind was full of murder, and he was talking to Santiago.
Santi’s grip on my arm loosened as he turned his head to look at Micah, sizing him up. “The fuck you say to me?”
“I asked if you lost your fuckin’ mind,” Micah answered. “Get your hands off her.”
Santiago’s smirk widened. “Oh? My bad, champ. She yours?” He let me go, raising his hands to feign surrender. “I meant no harm, just a friendly conversation.”
“Keep your hands to yourself, bitch,” Micah replied, zero interest in de-escalation, which immediately made Santiago drop any pretense.
“ Bitch ?” he repeated. “You disrespecting me over some pussy?”
Micah didn’t get a chance to answer before the other Renegados stepped forward. One of them, a big motherfucker with a scar cut through his brow, clapped Santiago on the shoulder. “ Vamonos .”
We don’t need this problem.
“Listen to your boy,” Micah warned, and I closed my eyes, knowing that was the exact wrong thing to say at that moment.
“Or what the fuck you gonna do?” Santi shot back.
The next thing I knew, Micah had pulled me behind him, out of reach so he could square up, but someone else was stepping in front of him.
“Go cool off,” the newcomer said to Micah with a distinctly familial tone.
Micah huffed, trying to get around him. “Nah, I’m about to?—”
“Lose endorsements? Go to jail?” the man asked. “Over those motherfuckers? Come on, champ. Take your lady and get out of here.”
The arrival of an influx of security eliminated the choice.
Kinda.
Micah still had mayhem on his mind, but with increasing distance being put between him and Santiago, or rather, me and Santiago, the chances of things really popping off dropped dramatically.
I could still feel the heat rolling off both of them.
“You good?” a familiar voice asked, and I turned to see Jackson, cutting through the crowd.
I automatically nodded, trying to calm things down, but he scoffed. “Nah. You’re not. Go get some air.”
His eyes cut to Micah, who was still fuming.
“That a thing?” he asked me.
I… nodded.
Jackson chuckled. “I knew it. Get out of here before you make that man fuck somebody up.”
“But—”
“But nothing. It’s your last night anyway. And we definitely don’t need a damn turf war in the middle of Dream.”
Micah didn’t wait for me to argue.
His hand found the small of my back, steady and warm as he guided me out, away from the noise, away from the trouble.
I didn’t fight him.