by Vivi Paige
“Belle. That’s a lovely name. What say you let us in so I can buy you a drink? We can discuss the terms of your surrender.”
“Thank you, but I’m working, and I never drink when I’m working. And what surrender would you be referring to… Peter, was it?”
“Peter it is.” I swept into a grand bow. I do have a penchant for the theatrical. “And I was referring to you accepting my invitation to breakfast.”
“Breakfast?” She arched her eyebrow and appeared more sprite-like. “It’s nine-thirty at night.”
“Oh, we’ll have to wait a while to be sure. It’s up to you if I should call you… or nudge you awake.”
“Nice,” Nibs murmured.
Peaches rolled his eyes, and Belle maintained the same blank expression.
“Well, Peter-it-is, I’m going to have to decline your invitation.”
I remember that hitting me in the gut like a mule kick, but I did my best to keep it off my face.
“But…” she snapped me out of my funk before I could really get it started. “I don’t see any reason you and your friends can’t come inside. I’ll even waive the cover charge.”
“That’s awful generous of you, Belle.” I smiled to hide my shaken confidence. This dame fenced well. Maybe better than me.
“Oh, it’s nothing.” She turned to stride back up the steps, giving me a grand view of her backside. Mmmm mmm. “But if you don’t behave, I won’t hesitate to have you thrown out into the rain, fancy suit and all. Enjoy your time in an actual classy joint for a change.”
I winced, the Boyz laughed, but we made our way inside. Maybe I hadn’t gotten her to thaw, yet, but she had let me in the door. That was a great first step.
“All right,” Nibs whispered to Curly as we headed inside. “Let’s see where we can cause maximum mayhem.”
“No,” I snapped.
“No?” Nibs looked hurt. “What do you mean, no? Didn’t we come here just to start some shit?”
“No. This is a scouting mission only. We’re going to conduct ourselves with the proper decorum. The firm’s reputation is on the line. You feel me? Don’t start no shit.”
“Then what are we supposed to do?” he asked glumly.
“I don’t know. Drink the overpriced martinis, dance with something tight wearing something tight, use your imagination. Mingle.”
With that I headed off toward the bar, my gaze searching for Belle. I found her up on a security station balcony overlooking the dance floor.
Her eyes coolly regarded me, inscrutable as the ocean depths. But they did regard me.
Oh, yes, I thought. You’re going to be mine. My Belle.
Chapter Four
Maybe I made a mistake by letting Peter and his “boys” into Jolly Roger. I know Crenshaw would have a conniption if he knew, but I was in a delicate situation.
The fact of the matter was, the Mayne Brothers LLC had more stroke than my boss. Period, end of story. So, while I was under no obligation to let them in from a legal standpoint, I also didn’t want to ignite the years-long “cold war” between the two clubs into red hot conflict.
I’m not saying Crenshaw Hook was not as dangerous as the Maynes. Not by a long shot. In point of fact, the Maynes are known to have a twisted code of honor, even if it doesn’t always make sense to outsiders.
I can say, unequivocally, that Crenshaw Hook never had honor nor wished to acquire any. He might have bandied the word about from time to time, giving lip service to the idea he was more than just a brutal thug with temporal authority. In reality, there were no limits to the depths he would sink. I once heard Wendy—when she thought I was out of earshot—remark that Hook was so low, he could walk under a snake without ducking his head.
Colorful, but apt.
So, maybe I was just letting Peter in the door because I knew Hook didn’t want me to. Maybe I resented Hook for pressuring me into working for him full-time after my father died. But I’d be obfuscating the real issue if I didn’t admit to one thing.
I let Peter in the door because he was good-looking and moved with sensual grace. I wanted to see him on the dance floor. There, I said it.
That didn’t mean I wasn’t going to stick to the age-old adage, trust but verify. There’s a reason I went straight to the security tower and conferred with Starkey. The gentlemanly older man, with his effete mannerisms and obvious trendy fashion sense, may not have struck many as being formidable. But those foolish enough to judge him a weakling by those criteria regretted it every time.
He arched his graying brows, his posture ramrod straight as I stepped up beside him on the platform, which overlooked the club’s lighted dance floor. The colored panels were done in soft sea tones, meant to be evocative of the Roger’s origins as a sailor’s pub, but their soothing hues did nothing to improve my mood.
Or Starkey’s, apparently. “Are you certain it was wise to let those miscreants inside, Belle?”
“To be honest, I’m not certain at all,” I admitted. “But I feared worse should I refuse them entry.”
Starkey nodded and looked out through the picture window at Club Lost across the street. Their line was noticeably longer than ours, which was par for the course.
“Thus far, there have been no real shots fired in this war,” Starkey spoke just loudly enough to be heard. “You are wise because all it would take is a spark.”
I laughed as I watched Peter and his friends mingling with my guests. So far, they were drinking, dancing, and laughing it up, but had yet to do anything untoward.
“No shots fired? Remember when that health inspector showed up on the exact day our new hire ‘forgot’ to date the shrimp cocktail? Or the fact that our paperwork to renew the liquor license was ‘lost’ several times, to the point where we had to shut down on Memorial Day weekend? There have been ‘shots fired’ aplenty. They’ve just been across the bow instead of broadside in daylight.”
“Excellent use of naval allegory, ma’am,” Starkey bowed his head in respect. “And I stand corrected. It seems par for the course that the Maynes would harass us.”
I burst into laughter before motioning at a cocktail waitress in a sequined thong to bring me a martini. Nursing the drink, I stared down at Peter and his crew, trying to decide what I found so intriguing about him.
“Oh, we’ve fired back a few times. In fact, Hook took the first shot when he tried to use his seat on the city council to prevent Lucian Mayne from opening their club at all. It almost worked, too, but then one of the board members who’d been voting nay got caught with a hooker in a seedy motel and lost his seat. If you catch my meaning.”
“Our adversaries are as cunning and devious as us,” he grumbled ruefully.
“True, but like you said, it’s a cold war. For now.” I sighed, looking down on the dance floor. Seeing Peter smiling, laughing, and having a good time made it easy to forget that he was a Mayhem Brother. Who knew what he was capable of? Who knew what depravity he was hiding behind those beautiful, big brown eyes…
I reminded myself to be careful because he’d had an effect on me already, and we’d barely spoken.
“Uh oh,” Starkey pointed at the dance floor. “Looks like the cold war might be about to heat up.”
I followed his pointing finger and saw one of Peter’s boys—the bald one—stumbling backward in a drunken imitation of hip-hop dancing. I could see his trajectory was going to cause him to cross paths with one of my waitresses, one bearing a tray fully laden with thirty-dollar drinks.
“Oh no.” I winced in anticipation. Sure enough, baldo slammed his rump right into her backside, and they went down in a tumble. Peter’s head whipped around, and I clenched.
This is it, I thought. Hook was going to terminate me for sure. Hopefully that would just mean losing my job…
Peter glared at his man and tossed him a white bar towel. I couldn’t hear what Peter said because of the throbbing heavy bass, but he pointed at the mess, and the bald man quickly went to clean up the disaster
he’d caused.
Then Peter helped the cocktail waitress to her feet and assisted her to a chair. It seemed she wasn’t injured, only taken unaware.
Here it comes, I thought. He’s going to try and seduce her.
Peter dug out a wad of bills and stuffed them in the waitress’s hand, not her cleavage as I’d expected. After making certain she was all right and paying to replace her payload about seven times over, Peter went back to where his man worked to clean up the broken glass and alcohol—and bent over to pitch in.
Smee soon moved to take over the operations, and Peter tipped him as well. If he was here to cause trouble, he was certainly going about it in a strange, illogical way.
Peter moved back to the bar and spoke with his crew. One of them, the guy with the poofy hair, gestured toward me. Peter looked my way and we locked gazes.
My heart beat faster, my palms suddenly slick with sweat as I gripped the polished metal railing with LED lights flashing all over it. He certainly is a handsome devil, isn’t he?
Peter finished his drink and abruptly stood, moving with purpose across the dance floor toward me. My knees grew weak, partially because I didn’t know what his intentions were but mostly due to that intangible quality popularly known as chemistry. I had a feeling that, personalities aside, Peter and I would be highly compatible in the bedroom.
Highly compatible, I thought again as he started up the steps to the security platform.
Starkey headed him off politely with a smile etched on his wizened face. “I’m sorry, sir, but this area is for staff only,” he spoke in a very professional and courteous tone.
“It’s all right, Starkey. Why don’t you go make your rounds?”
Starkey gave me a knowing look before departing, smiling at Peter on the way past him.
Peter strode up next to me and placed his hand on the rail so close to mine I could feel his body heat. “I freely admit, Belle, this is a classy joint. Real classy. My hat’s off to you and your staff.”
“Thanks.” I tried but failed to keep iciness from creeping into my tone. Peter noticed, but he wasn’t discouraged. Not yet. I began to feel a little flattered that he was continuing the pursuit after being shot down so many times. “Perhaps someday I will visit Club Lost and see how you do business.”
“I’d love that.” Peter grinned. “I’ll take care of your cover, your drinks, appetizers, whatever you need for the whole night.”
“Thanks, but I have plenty of money.” It was true, though I was certain I lacked the wealth of a Mayne brother. I started to say something else akin to small talk, but then I grew exasperated. I had to lay things on the line. “Look, Peter, can I just be blunt with you?”
“You can be any way you like with me.” He flashed that dazzling smile with the boyish dimples. I melted just a little bit and felt a tingle between my legs, but I was careful to keep any reaction off my face.
“What are you doing here? I mean, really?” I sighed. “Not to put you on the spot… but I’m putting you on the spot. What’s your game? Are you just trying to unnerve me, or is this a prelude to a more… hostile takeover of our operations?”
“Territorial disputes are above my pay grade.” Peter shrugged. I believed him, for some reason. “I’m more focused on the fine details, like making sure the club has enough soap in the bathrooms. Exciting stuff.”
He seemed a tad bitter, and I pressed a little.
“Would you rather be doing something else?” I swirled my saber-shaped toothpick around in my glass.
“I’d rather be doing someone else.” He turned the full force of his smoldering gaze on me. I did my best not to react, but my skin raised in goosebumps and an involuntary shudder passed through me. “What’s the matter? Am I getting under your skin?”
“I’m simply standing under a vent.” Even I could tell how much of a lie it was as the words left my lips. “I’ve no intention of becoming a trophy conquest for you to brag about to your crew. Nor am I stupid or naïve enough to share trade secrets in bed, so you’re barking up the wrong tree, boy.”
Peter stared blankly for a moment, but then his lips spread in a wide grin. “My dear, I would never think for a moment that you were naïve, or a ‘conquest.’ You perhaps have me confused with my older brothers.”
“Your family does enjoy a certain… reputation.”
“Indeed, and in a lot of ways it’s deserved.” Peter’s hand, so close for so long, moved to encompass mine. I could feel the strength in his arm, and see the veins sticking out in relief against his skin. Peter was an athlete, no doubt. “Would you do me the honor of a dance, Belle?”
“What makes you think I can dance?” I turned my gaze away from those brown eyes so I could think. It didn’t help, especially not with his warm flesh pressing against mine.
“I saw you move.” He chuckled and squeezed my hand gently. “You practically float, you’re so graceful.”
I knew I should say no. All I could see coming from accepting his invitation was trouble. Yet… I didn’t want to deny him. Even more, I didn’t want to deny myself.
“All right,” I said as coolly as I could manage. “One dance. But I’m not sleeping with you.”
Peter grinned, took my hand, and kissed it like a musketeer. The gesture was far more charming than its cheesy origin should have allowed. “Who said anything about sleep?”
Chapter Five
Belle lingered at the top of the stairs, reluctant to leave her security blanket—I mean, platform. Nah, I mean blanket.
“Come on.” I tugged her hand insistently. “What’s the worst thing that could happen from just one little dance?”
She arched her impish brow, a ghost of a smile straining to form at her lips.
“So many things,” she murmured, right before her heel landed on the lower step. I let her get halfway down before I grew impatient. I reached out and grabbed her waist, spinning her down to the ground level with a flourish. She felt so light in my arms, I almost imagined she had tiny wings keeping her aloft.
When I set her down, she was flush against my body, my hand at the small of her back just where the slope of her finely rounded bottom began. Her palm rested against my chest, the softness of her breasts searing through my senses. She looked up at me, ruby-painted lips slightly parted, nostrils flaring as her breaths grew rapid.
“Your heart is beating pretty fast.” Belle seemed to speak without thinking, so much so that she startled herself.
“It should be, since I’m right next to the most desirable woman in this joint.” Nice save, Pete. She was right, my heart was pounding so hard I was afraid I would crack a rib. “Come on, I can’t wait to see how you move.”
I backed her up onto the dance floor, and she went with my lead. I marveled at how easily she took my body’s instructions and executed them. We spun in a tight circle, bellies pressed together, and then I dipped her so low her blonde locks brushed the dance floor.
Belle looked and felt amazing draped across my arm like that, body turning into art at my behest. I ran my gaze along her slender neck, past the sensual curve of her clavicle and down to her perfectly sized breasts. Every guy gives lip service to gigantic hooters, but let me tell you, I wouldn’t have changed Belle’s set out for any other. As far as I was concerned, they suited her perfectly.
Everything suited her perfectly. I’ve never been the kind of guy to have a “type,” not really. As long as it was female and willing, I was down for some action.
But Belle was different. Special. Her ethereal grace, her sassy charm, her elegant poise… it all conspired to steal my breath away every time my eyes landed on her. The feel of her lithe form sinuously curved against me was intoxicating, better than any drug.
I pulled her back up to her feet, and our eyes met. The dance beat slowed, though it remained at ear-splitting volume. All round us, the wildly gyrating forms lessened along with the tempo, swirling together into a molten sea of fiery embraces.
Belle put her hands on m
y shoulders, and we swayed together. She ground her hips into my own, and I followed suit as our movements grew both more in sync and much, much dirtier. Belle abruptly spun in a tight circle, her bottom sweeping over my crotch and stirring my rod into even greater firmness.
She bent at the waist, grinding herself against me even more. The movement caused her skirt to rise up enough that I caught a flash of her black lace panties. Belle looked over her shoulder, only one brown eye visible to me, a forelock partially obscuring even that. But there was no obscuring the heat pouring out of her gaze. She knew exactly what she was doing to me and wanted me to know she knew.
I was lightheaded and overwhelmed with a giddy rush as the thumping bass and surreal style of the club’s décor transported me to another realm where the only thing that really mattered was the lithe little imp in my arms and the feelings we stirred in each other.
Belle spun back to face me and then swayed down into a deep crouch, hands sliding down from my shoulders over my chest to my belly. Her forehead brushed over my growing bulge, and then for just a moment her lips did as well. Belle raised her gaze up to my own. Her brown eyes were filled with a sultry energy that expanded outward and encompassed my entire being.
At that moment, I wasn’t thinking about Crenshaw Hook being her boss or Lucian Mayne busting my ass for cavorting with the enemy. My entire world was Belle, and it was a wonderful world indeed.
I spun her out to the end of my arm, and she went with the motion. The dance floor parted for us as more and more eyes turned our way, bodies ceasing their motion as the dance turned into a spectator sport.
I pulled Belle back, and she did this pirouette thing where she spun in a dizzying series of spirals, her feet barely an inch apart, until she was wrapped in my arms with her backside pressed firmly into my groin. We remained that way for a moment, my hand cupping her belly, before Belle reached up and caressed the back of my head as she curved her spine into a graceful arch.