Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 75027 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 375(@200wpm)___ 300(@250wpm)___ 250(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75027 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 375(@200wpm)___ 300(@250wpm)___ 250(@300wpm)
I check my watch and nod for Ruben to follow us back in. We’re thirty minutes late. It’s a statement. It says we’re powerful enough not to give a damn. Statements are important in my line of work. They set boundaries and map hierarchies. They keep you alive.
Giving Cas’s hand a squeeze, I open the door and let her step in ahead of me. I keep my hand on the small of her back, not only reassuring her with the subtle touch, but also sending a message to every person with a dick in the room.
The guard at the door searches Leon and me. Ruben has already been searched, but since he’s stepped out, they check him for weapons again. We’re not carrying guns, but I have handy little tools like spikes and retractable blades hidden in my cufflinks and ring.
When the guard goes for Cas, I grip his wrist. “You touch my girlfriend,” I say in a measured tone, “and you’re dead.”
He backs off, giving a nod to let us through. I let go of his arm with a shove. If he thought he could put his dirty paws on Cas’s body and feel her up, he would’ve been in for a surprise. I would’ve broken his windpipe and stabbed out his eyes.
Putting my hand on her waist, I draw her close to me.
“So, I’m your girlfriend now?” she asks with a raised brow.
I smile down at her, getting lost all over again in the blue of her eyes. “We’re already living together.” I shrug like it isn’t the huge deal it is. “We may as well take it to the next level.”
When she returns my smile, my chest tightens with emotions. She said she was mine, and I’m still high on the fact that she’s willing to give us a shot. She agreed to stay, and in doing so, she’s given me her trust. The more she gives, the more I give back. I want to give her the world and more. I want to give her everything, which is why she’s here with me. She’s no longer my prisoner. She’s my partner. She’s the woman by my side. She’s the one I’ve chosen, and I show her off proudly even as I feel like gouging out the eyes of every man who turns his head to stare at her.
The private room is buzzing with men in suits and women in formal dresses. Cocktail tables are scattered around a checkered dancefloor. Waitresses with checkered leotards that have two holes in the front, allowing their tits to spill out, serve oysters and champagne. They balance the heavy trays while trying hard not to trip on their spiky heels. A disco ball throws colorful light over the floor, and a DJ spins from a corner. The music is, for the moment, low volume, lounge-style, making conversation possible.
I hold Cas close to me as we push through the crowd to give the customary good wishes to Oliver who sits like a king on a throne while accepting them. I hate this room and the people in it. I hate the sexual crassness and what it represents. I hate it even more that I have to bring Cas to such a place, but I’ve made a decision and I can’t go back on it. It’s time for the whole world to know she’s mine.
Finally, we break through the throng of bodies that are already too sweaty for my liking and make it to the other end of the room. Oliver sits on a purple chair with a golden backrest. He’s wearing a velvet jacket and matching beret. The redheads are at his sides, each perched on an armrest. Like the day he dropped in unannounced at my place, his girls wear short leather skirts and nipple tassels. He’s got a hand under each’s skirt, but when he spots us, his attention torpedoes on Cas. She’s a knockout. He’s wanted her from the moment he set eyes on her. My insides wind tight at the way he undresses her with his eyes.
The redhead on his left mewls, trying to bring his attention back to her. He moves his hand faster under her skirt without breaking eye contact with Cas. I have to give it to my girl, she doesn’t waver. She walks next to me with a straight back and lifted chin, not drawing her gaze away from his face to look at the work of his hand.
“Cas,” he says when we stop in front of him. “I’m glad Ian decided to bring you. Are you my birthday gift?”
I see ten shades of black. Rage claws in my chest. It’s a wonder I manage to keep my voice even. “Careful, Oliver. She’s with me.”
Finally, he looks at me. “Is she now?” His smile is victorious. That was what he wanted all along, for me to finally, for once in my life, admit a weakness.