Chapter 9
CHAPTER
NINE
WRATH
When her round hazel eyes meet mine, I can’t help the way my body responds to her. My cock presses against the zipper of my jeans, and my heart races like a fucking teenager’s. This girl is dangerous to me in more ways than one.
I need to remind myself to stay away from her. It’s honestly for her own good. I’m not the kind of man who should ever get involved with a pretty young thing like her. I would ruin everything about her.
Even if that’s exactly what I crave… her ruination.
“This is too much,” she whispers as she looks down at the fistful of cash I just handed her.
It’s not. Honest to fuck, it’s probably not enough. I shrug a shoulder, my gaze never leaving hers. She is still staring at me, wide-eyed and slack-jawed. I have never wanted to fuck someone so badly in my life.
I try to remind myself that I can have half a dozen women who are just hanging out in the other room, but my body doesn’t give a fuck. It wants this one. Then I realize she’s waiting for me to say something, so I clear my throat in an effort to get my shit together before I speak.
“Your quote wasn’t enough, babe. I only agreed to it because I wasn’t sure how things would go, but now that I’ve seen your quality, you’re worth more than you quoted me.”
She blinks a few times, then clears her throat before she curls her fingers around the money. “Thank you,” she whispers, although it sounds as if she’s got something caught in her throat.
I don’t look away from her, and then I watch as tears build in her eyes. Thankfully, they don’t fall, because I’m not good with crying women—like, at fucking all. When my sister was going through all her shit, she knew how to play me. Tears. It worked for a long fucking time.
Until it didn’t anymore.
“You got all your shit, I can walk you out.”
She nods, closing her eyes for a moment, then lifts her chin slightly, opening them again and flashing me a fucking killer smile.
“I’m all done,” she states before she reaches down with her free hand and picks up her mop-and-bucket-combo thing.
My gaze searches hers for another moment. I don’t want to look away from her, but I force myself to tear my gaze away before I turn and walk out of the kitchen, holding the door for her to pass by me. She does, but only to step to the side, and then I walk past her.
She stays behind me, step by step, close by, and I know she’s probably looking around the bar area, wondering what the fuck is going on. The music is playing, there are men at the bar, and pool is being played, along with darts, but that’s not what she’s looking at.
The clubwhores are out and ready for the evening in thong panties, tiny tops, tits and asses on display, sky-high heels, faces and hair made up. I don’t say anything, don’t explain anything, because she signed an NDA, so she had to know she’d see some shit on this journey.
Once we’re outside, I see the shadow standing next to her car and know it’s the cousin. He looks annoyed, even though I can’t see his face because it’s too dark. His stance tells me everything I need to know. He’s ready to get the fuck out of here.
“Next week, then?” Elodie asks, stopping at the front of her car to turn around and face me.
“Next week. If I’m not here, Dare is your contact. He’s the guy you met today. He’s the president of our club. Any issues at all, that’s who you go to. And if we’re both not around. Call me.”
She nods once, her eyes connecting to mine. She doesn’t speak immediately, but I can tell she’s got something on her mind. I decide it doesn’t matter. I don’t need to know what or how she thinks. It shouldn’t matter to me. This is my employee, a contracted employee for the club, and nothing else.
“You got my number, yeah?” I ask.
“I do,” she murmurs.
“Good. Drive safe. Thanks for everything. It looks great. See you next week.”
And without another word, I turn around and walk away. I head straight back into the clubhouse. I need a drink at the very fucking least, and then I need to talk to Dare about the meeting I had earlier.
Once I’m inside, I head straight for the bar and lift my hand, motioning for the prospect to bring over a drink. Thankfully, he doesn’t even have to ask. He sets my favorite tequila down in front of me and walks away.
Exactly the way I wanted it.
Taking the cork out, I lift the bottle to my lips and suck down a shot. The liquid burns my throat, and I welcome that shit wholly, then, with the bottle still in my hand, I turn around and head toward my office.
Dare is standing near the hallway, and I jerk my chin toward him in a silent invitation to follow me. He does, and once I’m in the office, I walk around the desk and sink down with a grunt. Fuck. I hate that shit, making sounds when I move around. I’m old, and it’s starting to fucking show.
When Dare closes the door behind him, he does the same, sitting in the chair across from me… with a grunt. His face twists slightly, and I know he’s thinking the same thing as me. Getting old is fucking stupid.
“How’d that meeting go?”
I almost laugh, because, well, that meeting went all right.
“Twenty-million-dollar building, not a house, but commercial. It’s a venue event center. Weddings, parties, shit like that.”
“And they want it gone?” he asks.
“They want it gone. Just renovated the whole thing, spent a fuckin’ mint on it, and it’s been open for three months. They can’t pay to get it booked.”
He shifts around slightly in the chair, then asks the all-important question. “How much is our bottom line cut from this?”
My lips twitch into a smirk. “Seven million,” I state.
He leans back in his chair, his eyes wide as he watches me.
We have made well over seven million dollars over the years, but not for a single fire.
While this isn’t life-changing, what it is is substantial.
If we choose to vote on it, we could, instead of taking cuts from this, invest it in something more lucrative.
This is something we’ve been discussing as a club recently.
“This could elevate shit for sure,” Dare states.
“Damn fucking straight.”