Graham
F or ten minutes I’ve tried to ignore Elise as she blathers on about her cosmetics company’s new line of whatever the hell it is they make. Bullshit I couldn’t care less about if I tried. I’ve spent the entire time she’s stood here, trying my damnedest to see around her. Like now, I glimpse Casey tossing back more liquor just as the clueless woman shifts again, blocking my view. I don’t even bother swallowing my growl this time.
I blame myself. I’ve kept her around because Elise has been one of my more tolerable hookups over the years. My preferred companion at business functions, charity galas, and political events, she’s always made me look good, then we’d enjoy a few hours between the sheets before going our separate ways, but it’s no secret she aspires to be more, though I have no idea why.
She’s not like most of the socialite women I know. She wants more than to be seen as a pretty face living on Daddy’s trust fund until some millionaire carries her off in a horse-drawn carriage to Stepford. She wants a career. To make a name for herself beyond her trust fund and inheritance, and she’s done a phenomenal job at doing just that by starting her own line of cosmetics and then turning it into an empire.
But she’s also self-centered and demanding. She wants someone to bend to her will, adhere to her schedule, and prioritize her wants and needs above all else. She knocked herself out of the running to ever be more than sex when she complained the entire weekend the one time I brought her home, despite knowing they were why I went. That was our junior year of college.
If I’d cut her off completely back then, maybe she wouldn’t be standing here now, not taking the hint. But what can I say? She was convenient and a decent lay.
“, why do I feel you aren’t interested in anything I say?” She may be self-absorbed, but she’s far from stupid.
I drag my eyes to hers. “Because I’m not,” I say dryly, bringing my drink to my lips.
What? I never claimed I wasn’t an asshole. At least I didn’t lie to her.
Her eyes narrow, then she looks over her shoulder. I can finally see around her, and my heart flops when I spot an empty table. “What’s so interesting over there?” Nothing now. She scans the rest of the space, still curious. “Is that… Casey?” I’m shocked she remembers her name. She couldn’t be bothered with her or Jagger when they were kids. Maybe they’ve been at some social functions together.
Then she moves a bit, and I spot Casey. With Blaze Erikson’s hands all over her. And I see fucking red.
I can feel Elise’s eyes boring into the side of my head, but I don’t meet them. Removing my attention from the sight on the dance floor is impossible.
“, are you really still hovering over that girl?” My jaw locks as I ignore the jealous jab spewing from the redhead’s mouth. I’m too busy watching that slimy, sick bastard’s hands slide all over my girl. “She’s a grown woman, and not even your actual sister.”
That gets my attention. My eyes lift to her with a smirk. It’s probably the most accurate thing to ever pass those over-filled lips. I’m not sure what she makes of my reaction, but judging by the way her face reddens and her brows kiss her forehead, her assumption is probably close to accurate. It’s enough to send her stomping away.
And I return my attention to the dance floor at the exact moment Casey’s blue gaze finds mine. The urge to go over there, rip her away from Erikson, and carry her out of here burns deep in my belly. The only thing stopping me is knowing it would embarrass her. If it were anyone else, I wouldn’t give a damn, but this is Casey.
I bring my glass of whiskey to my lips, focusing on the burn of the dark chocolate and berry notes instead of my jealousy, swallowing mouthfuls as she drops and then slides back up his body.
She’s drunk. Sober Casey would never dance so provocatively. Unless my brother lied to me about how much more reclusive and timid she’s become over the years.
No. No way did he lie. I would’ve known if he had.
But this Casey also isn’t hiding behind a forced smile and jumpy behavior. She’s meeting my eyes with hunger and lust. It may be Erikson’s hands on her body, but I can see in those blue depths that it’s my hands she’s imagining.
It’s almost enough to quell the possessive rage roiling through me. That is until I see her grinding her ass against him.
Motherfucker.
She’s the most covered woman in this place, yet that move with her dancer’s form combined with her natural sex appeal brings my dick to life.
And the insane possessive jealousy roars so loudly, I’m shocked it’s not audible to everyone here. It bubbles my blood like molten lava, making my teeth grind, and my fingers clench tightly around the glass tumbler in my hand until I feel it crack under the pressure.
If this is some kind of test from above, they better have a pair of wings waiting at the gate.
Then they stop dancing. Casey continues dancing, but Erikson travels in the opposite direction, toward the restroom.
I stand from my seat, tossing several bills on the table. With my left hand, I reach into my suit jacket, retrieving my phone. After I tap out a quick message, I nod at my brother, who’s hovering over some blond nearby. He meets me at the entrance of the corridor leading to the restrooms, and I give him instructions. He groans, wrapping his hands around his neck, then heads for Casey’s table while I make my way down the corridor.
Heaven can keep the wings.
****
Standing in the shadows beyond the lighted path leading to the men’s room, my back presses against the wall as my feet cross at the ankles with my hands shoved into my pockets. Anyone who sees me sees cool, calm, and unbothered. As if I’m simply waiting for someone to come out.
My wait isn’t long. The green door to the bathroom opens. Out steps the slippery predator, who’s always used my father’s money and team of lawyers to cover up his dirty dealings. Shit that should’ve landed him behind bars, or at the very least, on the registry of sexual predators.
Catching him off guard, my fingers wrap around the collar of that ugly as fuck shirt he’s wearing, yanking him back and tossing him deeper into the unlit corridor.
“What the fuck?” He grunts. His eyes meet mine, and he smirks. “Good ol’ . Haven’t you heard you don’t fuck with the merchandise?”
When I followed him back here, I only meant to warn him. I wanted to make it crystal clear. He is to stay far, far away from Casey. Knowing Erikson as I do, a little physical… emphasis would’ve been needed, but nothing more than a broken nose or black eye. Just enough to make sure he understood I meant business.
But the small baggy at my feet changed that.
I’m not surprised. It’s his MO. Drug them and rape them, then use his connections to make the girls seem dramatic, crazy. Toss a little money and a lot of fear their way with an NDA, and he gets away without so much as a slap on the wrist. He’s been an indestructible cockroach for a long, long time. I hate to admit it, but my dad has had a hand in it. For reasons I never understood, he was always quick to run to the asshole’s rescue instead of cutting him loose. Even after Sons of Sin came along, toppling Dirty Minds’ popularity by leaps and bounds and becoming the money maker for the label, Dad kept the son of a bitch around. Business-wise, I get it. Erikson and his band were still big money-makers. They may not be number one, but they’re still a hugely popular band.
I wonder if he can maintain it without a trachea.
I bend over, picking up the clear plastic with two fingers, never taking my eyes off him. His gaze is arrogant and malicious as he pushes to his feet, and he nods toward the drugs in my hand. “Didn’t know that was your thing, . Golden Boy taking a walk on the dark side?”
“You know, I never understood the Golden Boy thing. I’ve worked my fucking ass off for everything I have, and I’ll be damned if any of it is temporary.” His smirk slips when one of my own forms and I eliminate the distance between us. “As far as the dark side… You have no idea how dark I can get, but this…” I shove the baggy into his shirt pocket and tap his chest. “We both know who this belongs to. You thought you could drug her, touch her?”
He lifts a shoulder. “Had a small wager with someone. That was my insurance, but if you didn’t notice, she was plenty into me.”
“A wager with whom? And why?” I am vibrating as a tempest of fury rages inside me. Every muscle is coiled tight with the unfettered desire to choke the life out of this piece of shit.
A grin spread across his slippery face. “Guess?”
But my patience has reached its end, my control snapping like a thread pulled too tight. My arm jerks out, my hand gripping his throat, pinning him against the wall as my fist drives into his face.
“You think Martin is a problem for you?” I ask, referring to his well-known feud with the Sons of Sin guitarist. My arm pulls back, snapping forward again, causing blood to spray from his nose. “You think he’s someone you should avoid?” On the third strike, he slumps in my grip. “He doesn’t have shit on me.” I toss him back to the floor. “Go near Casey again, and I promise they won’t find your body.” Twisting my hips, my foot plunges into his gut. An audible whoosh escapes him, and he starts coughing. A desperate groan of pain tumbles from his lips when I land another to his chest.
But even as I make the threat—send my warning of what will happen should he touch her again for any reason—the need to ensure he doesn’t have the chance drives me to keep going.
He touched her.
He intended to drug her.
The red haze consumes me. My need to protect her is far more volatile than my jealousy, and I can’t see any other way to do that than to end him. My leg lifts, ready to drive down into his face, just as a hand grips my shoulder, tugging me back. “What the hell? Have you lost your mind?”
Probably.
I stare into Reynolds’ dark eyes, full of questions, concerns, and a little fear, as they dart between me and the motherfucker on the ground. “You know this is a PR disaster, right?”
I jerk from his grip. He’s lucky I don’t break his face. Had my brother not assured me the walking STD ad has no interest in Casey, I would. I spin away from him, shoving my fist through the drywall. Pain erupts through my knuckles, racing up my arm. “Fucking hell, Davis. I thought they said you were the calm one, allergic to scandal.”
My fingers rip through my hair in fury and frustration. He’s right. Publicly I’m known for being cold, aloof. Unshakable under pressure. Never rattled or provoked. And for the same reasons, I avoid scandal.
I won’t deny I have a temper. An explosive one. But I learned to control it.
Except where Casey is concerned. I discovered she is the exception to everything the night I beat her so-called boyfriend’s ass, only stopping because she asked me to. Though, later that night, I made sure he understood the message.
“You’re here with Casey.” It’s not a question. Liam’s dipshit comment became clear the moment I saw his face. “Go make sure they don’t come back here. Keep them distracted.” I already told Jagger to do the same, but you can never be too careful.
He sighs and turns to leave. “Reynolds,” I call out before he makes it down the corridor. He glances over his shoulder with a raised brow. “Keep your mouth shut.”
He shrugs. “I didn’t see a thing.”
I nod, assured he’ll keep his mouth shut, then retrieve my phone. Seconds after sending a quick text, Will appears from the shadows. He looks at Erikson and then at me with a raised brow. “A little excessive for a warning, don’t you think?”
“He’s lucky someone happened along to stop me.”
“Man, what made you like this?”
I roll my eyes because nothing made me like this. I’ve always been this way. Personally, I see nothing wrong with it. “Just take care of it, will you?”
He chuckles and salutes. I turn toward the bathroom, pull the door open, and walk inside to clean myself up a little. Once the blood on my knuckles is gone and my rumpled clothing is back in place, I head back out, walking straight toward Casey’s table.
The girls, Jagger, and Reynolds, all sit there arguing as Casey reaches for another shot. I’m going to kill Jagger for not stopping her like I told him. You can tell by her glassy eyes and erratic movements she’s bypassed three sheets and barreled into a whirlwind of a fourth. Before she can throw back more liquor, my hand reaches across the table, grabbing the glass from her hand. “I think you’ve had enough, Sunflower.”
Her big eyes blink up at me as her two friends snicker. “Somebody’s in trouble,” Lily sing-songs. “Oh, maybe he’ll spank you.”
Casey looks at her friend, then back at me. Her brows dip, and her chin juts. A long finger circles around my face as she narrows her gaze. “You don’t get to tell me what to do. You’re not my dad. And I’m an adult now.”
My brow lifts. That spanking sounds very tempting.
Drunk Casey is bold, uninhibited, and defiant. Any other time, I would love it. I want nothing more than for her to stand up for herself. But I want her to do it sober. And I don’t want her to fight against me. Not right now, anyway. Right now, I am over this overpriced brothel and this night, but there is no way I’m leaving here without her. Just the thought of whatever alcohol-fueled trouble she could find makes me insane.
“If you ask me, this is just what she needed.” Lily looks over her glass with a sly curve of her lips. I’ve only recently met the mouthy brunette, but I’ve learned she’s not intimidated by me or anyone. It would be admirable if it didn’t piss me off.
“Lucky for you I didn’t ask,” I grind through clenched teeth.
“Leave her alone. It’s not like she lets loose often. It’s good for her,” Henry Weston’s girlfriend, Ashleigh, tells me.
Casey’s head bobs enthusiastically. “Yeah. Let me be loose.” Jagger chokes at her choice of words, and I narrow my eyes, wondering why.
Casey reaches for the last shot glass on the table, but I snatch it away before she can get it, and toss it back myself.
“Hey, that was mine.”
“I said you are done,” I bark. When she flinches, I close my eyes and remind myself to calm the hell down.
“Come on. Don’t be a wet blanket on her party, big brother .” Ashleigh looks at me over her glass, grinning wide.
Where the hell did these women come from? They couldn’t be more different from Casey if they tried.
I won’t admit it out loud, but it’s exactly what she needs. It’s what she’s always needed.
“Right?” Lily leans around Casey to look at her co-instigator. “I mean, our little Casey even asked Jagger for sex lessons when she never said the word before.”
My head snaps to Jagger who is choking again, this time on his drink, turning curious shades of red and purple. “The fuck?” he wheezes as he glares at the girls.
I’m certain my face is a similar color because it feels like I’m having an aneurysm.
“Why won’t you teach me sex, Jagger?” Casey pouts.
And that’s it. I am done. “Get your things, Casey. We are leaving.”
“No,” she shakes her head with her lips pressed together. “I’m going to stay, thank you.”
“Sunflower, I will crawl over this booth and carry you the fuck out.”
“Jesus, that’s hot.” Ashleigh leans over Casey to Lily. “That was hot, right?”
“Definitely hot.”
Casey shakes her head again, but she stands in the seat, attempting to balance the back of the seats. A look from me to Jagger has him sliding from the booth. Before Casey can turn around—or break her neck—I grab her waist, tossing her over my shoulder.
She squirms in my arms until I slap her ass. Hard. She yelps but gets deathly still. “Y-you spanked me.”
“And I’ll do it again if you don’t get still.” She weighs nothing, but with those long arms and legs, someone will get hurt if she doesn’t stop flailing.
With her over my shoulder, I march us through the crowd and out the door. My car is already at the entrance as Will leans against it. His brow lifts when he spots Casey over my shoulder. “Is this your way of getting me away from GenSec?” He refers to the security company he’s technically employed by—co-owned by none other than Henry Weston, Casey’s honorary uncle and second dad. I offered him a shit ton of money to leave them two years ago, but the asshole seems to take loyalty seriously. Good for me, terrible for his bank account, but I solved the dilemma by getting Henry and his partner to assign Will exclusively to me.
“Your job is fine.” I set Casey to her feet. She sticks her tongue out at me, and fuck, it’s hard not to laugh. I miss this side of her, and, according to Jagger, it’s been a long time since she was like this. “Be a good girl and get in the car.”
“Where are we going?”
“I’m taking you home, Sunflower.”
Her nose scrunches. “But you don’t know where I live.” She pauses for a minute, her eyes losing focus, then she giggles. “I don’t remember either.”
I shake my head, reach by her, and open the car door. “Get in the car, Sunflower.”
She huffs and climbs in.
God, I hope the damn child locks are on.
Not wanting to risk it, I head around the backside of the car to the other side as Will crosses the front.
It takes less than thirty seconds to get into the car. And Casey’s already sleeping against the door.
Will catches my eye in the mirror. “Do you know what you’re doing?”
I grin. “Maybe it’s a good thing you didn’t take me up on my offer and stayed with GenSec. I might need someone who can’t read my mind.”
“That’s exactly what you don’t need.”
I chuckle, turning my attention out the window when his penetrating gaze gets to be too much. “Yeah, you’re probably right.”
“Are you going to answer the question?” He asks as he pulls into traffic.
“I’m not in the habit of explaining myself to my employees.” He scoffs, and I sigh. “Not a fucking clue, man. Not a single goddamn fucking clue.”