18. Chapter 18
Dario
Gio
Need you at Demone.
Dario
Is there a problem?
Gio
For you.
Fuck. I look across my desk at my head of security.
Leo informed me his team located a surveillance device—not belonging to us—in my hotel lobby.
I’m not sure who is trying to spy on my business, or me, but I know it felt good to shatter that fucking camera to pieces.
I look down at the remnants scattered on the white marble tiles of my office floor, shaking my head.
Where there was one, there will be others.
“Keep your eyes peeled, Leo, and have the boys do another sweep. There better not be a damn camera or mic in this place that doesn’t belong to us. ”
Leo nods and silently heads back out to the casino. When the door closes behind him, I punch the top of my desk. I’m already dealing with too much shit; now I have to go find out what problem awaits me next door.
“She arrived about twenty minutes ago.”
We ride the elevator down to the lowest level of the building, Gio with a smug smirk on his face, and me glaring daggers at my big brother. “I got here in five.”
Gio shrugs. “I figured I’d let the lawyer have a little bit of fun before I tattled on her.”
A growl spills from my chest as I exit through the black doors and head out into the sea of bodies and a melody of mayhem.
My eyes scan over the crowd, because of course, my stubborn little bull had to visit my sex club on our busiest night of the week.
After a second sweep, they finally land on her, and my entire body bristles.
Beside my blonde beauty stands a man with a throat I’m eager to squeeze. The man in a ridiculous pair of cowboy boots is standing far too close to her. His shoulder brushes hers as he leans into her on the bar. His hand begins to reach toward her, and something inside me snaps.
Mere seconds pass as I find myself standing behind him, ready to pull his arm back and twist it the fuck off.
It would serve him right for thinking he had permission to touch her.
Before I snap his bones in two, however, the bartender I usually consider a friend pipes up from behind the counter. “Mr. Caruso, good to see you tonight.”
Jasmine shifts slowly on her barstool, turning to look at me with eyes so wide I can see the flecks of gold in them. Fucking gorgeous.
“What are you doing here?”
I smile at her hiss. “I own the place.”
Jasmine rolls her eyes. “Your brothers own it.”
I shrug. “Semantics. What are you doing here?” I ask, a coy smile on my face as I make a spectacle of looking her up and down. When I reach her eyes again, I see that the move clearly aggravates her.
“Not speaking with you,” she says, turning her head back to the man she was with, the man who I will make sure loses his membership tonight.
The cowboy decides it’s time to speak up. He thrusts a meaty palm in my direction, and I look at it with disdain. He probably inseminated a fucking cow with that hand. “Howdy. Name’s Ben.”
I can’t take my eyes off his hand, wondering what it would look like under a black light. Instead of returning the gesture, I glance over at Jasmine, ignoring him entirely. “Let’s go.”
“I’m not going anywhere.” Her eyes flash at mine with challenge written all over them.
“That’s right, you aren’t going anywhere with him. Now let’s leave.”
She lifts her drink to her lips, but instead of taking a sip, runs her tongue along the rim in a move so seductively unlike her, I have to bite back my groan. It appears my little bull wants to play. “I’m not finished with my drink.”
My hand darts out in a flash, prying the glass of bourbon in her hands and throwing it back in one gulp.
The rich sweetness warms my throat, and I wonder if I could taste the toasted oak and vanilla from Jasmine’s lips.
The glass comes down on the bartop with a slam so hard I’m surprised it didn’t shatter.
My dark eyes meet hers. “You are now. Let’s go. ”
Jasmine’s cheeks puff out as her nostrils flare. My pants tighten, and my chest aches because she’s so fucking beautiful. She lifts her wrist, pointing to the gold bracelet she wears. “See this? This says I can play with anyone tonight. We are not exclusive.”
She says the last word in a mimicking tone, and it forces a wicked grin to my face. I lean toward her, closing the gap between us and making sure she can hear my next words. “You are mine.”
“Now, just you wait a minute,” Ben chimes in with a chuckle.
I aim a growl his way, and Jasmine’s eyes narrow even more.
“I’m here talking to the lady, and she’s wearing a gold band.
According to the rules here, that means she’s open to a scene and, well…
” His eyes go round like saucers, as though he’s just figured something out.
“Wait. Is that what this is? Are we in a scene now? Are you two a couple who get off on role-playing? I saw this in a movie once.” I glare at him, and he shrugs. “You’re both hot. I could be into it.”
My hands twitch in need of circling this man’s throat and squeezing the life out of him. “Could you kindly fuck off?”
“No.” Jasmine’s voice is firm, and she turns back to the man in the stupid fucking hat. Her fingers trail up his arm, then up to his face, where she twists his unruly beard. “I want you to stay.”
Her voice is breathy and obviously doing things to him because he has to clear his throat. “Well then, let me buy you another drink.”
“You’re going to get wrinkles scowling like that,” Gio says as he sits to my left, thankfully not obstructing my view of Jasmine, though with the way she and Cowboy Ben are fawning over each other, I may prefer that.
“Why her?” he asks as he holds up a finger for a glass of bourbon.
When the bartender asks if I’d like a drink, I wave him off.
He isn’t the only one I’ve done that to tonight.
Multiple women have approached me, and while not too long ago I would have gladly led them to a private room, tonight there’s only one woman I’m interested in.
The woman driving me insane with every touch and smile she gives the man who isn’t me.
Jasmine placed a firm boundary between us, identifying any romantic or physical interaction as forbidden. Having learned what I know now about her, that she’s a woman who wants to make a name for herself and be taken seriously, I can understand and appreciate it. I don’t like it. But I get it.
It doesn’t help that I’ve been a complete ass since the day we met, too.
Cocky, arrogant, self-assured. Those are all qualities I’ve heard about myself over the years, and I’ve learned to embrace them, spinning them in a positive light.
She sees right through it. Shamelessly flirting with other women in front of Jasmine isn’t going to spike jealousy inside her, resulting in her making her claim on me.
Insisting our professional get-togethers are dates is childish and probably coming across as desperate more than charming.
Yet, I can’t help it. There’s something about this woman that stands out among all the others.
Sure, she’s beautiful. Sure, she’s challenging.
But Jasmine Baker is unlike any other woman I’ve ever encountered, and a part of me knows we would be good together.
I can help bring her the fun and light she desperately needs in her life.
She can help shape me into the responsible adult I know I need to be.
“We’re what each other needs,” I finally answer, and I’m thankful he doesn’t ask for more than that.
Jasmine’s laugh has my spine stiffening. She’s smiling too much. If he knew her at all, he would know that’s not something she does. While her smile is beautiful, her scowls are equally so, and I crave them just as much. I crave her.
She looks like sin tonight, perched on a barstool in the center of the bar, as though she were trying to command the attention of everyone in this place.
The black dress she wears wraps around her in soft folds, the gathered skirt puffing slightly above her crossed, creamy, thick thighs, making her legs look impossibly long.
I bet they’d wrap around me nicely. The spikes of her black heels with red soles digging into me with every thrust.
One elbow rests against the black marble of the bar, the billowy sleeve pulling at her wrist as she playfully spins the stem of her martini glass, opting for that instead of another bourbon and Coke after I emptied her glass.
As much as her dress affects me tonight, it’s not the only thing.
Jasmine is… different. Along with the smile that can’t seem to slip from her face, her shoulders are relaxed.
Her voice is airy, that soft country twang of hers coming out a little more pronounced.
She seems lighter. Happier. The way I wish I made her.
Jasmine shifts, causing the hem to ride up enough for the man she’s speaking with to track the movement. Cowboy Ben licks his lips in want. When he leans in to her and whispers something, she nods, then the two of them head toward the curtain that leads to rooms of desire and debauchery.
I’m on my feet, ready to go after her, but a hand grips my shoulder and holds me in place.