I slip off my suit jacket slowly and kneel down in the entryway to the small cubby like room. It can’t be bigger than eight feet by eight feet. “Cinderella,” I whisper softly, keeping my voice as soft and unwavering as humanly possible. The last thing I want to do is frighten her.
“D-don’t call me t-that,” she hisses out, her voice hiccupping through the sobs.
“Fine, then tell me your real name, not that bullshit stage name that you go by.” I don’t mean to sound irritated, honestly, I’m trying to keep my calm. I won’t lie, it’s hard to do that when the girl you’ve been searching months for is crying uncontrollably in front of you, and you’re pretty damn sure it’s because she’s been raped in her place of work. Something that should have never happened, ever. Fuck. If I had just stayed in the damn club when Jordan left… Fuck me!
“Selena,” she whispers to me.
“Selena,” I repeat back, a beautiful name.
I slide the jacket on her back. “Put the jacket on, baby,” I urge her, watching as she slowly slips into it. Her back is still facing me, she starts shaking violently as the jacket slips further over her small body. It’s oversized, fit to my measure, and her small frame barely fills it.
“You don’t just g-get to come in h-here and white k-knight me,” she snaps, fire laced through every word she just said. She turns her face around and immediately I see every tear spilling from her eyes. After everything that’s just happened, I don’t know how to filter my reaction. I don’t know how to be the better man when I’m not even a good man, to begin with.
“Watch me,” I hiss back at her. Something dark is creeping out of me at this very moment. It’s as if something has changed. “No one fucks with my Cinderella, you got that? And I’m Prince Fucking Charming, baby.”
Before she can fire anything back, I’m standing up and pulling her into my arms. A mewed groan slips past her lips, and the second it does, her and my eyes are meeting, burning holes through each other. I can’t imagine what she’s going through, but I will promise one thing; I will make it better. “W-why are you h-helping me?”
It doesn’t take me long to think about my answer, as cocky and arrogant as it may be, it’s the truth. “Because, Selena, the second our eyes locked in that art exhibition, you were mine. You may have run away and evaded me for this long, but none of that matters. I’m a Steele, and Steeles always get what we want. We’re relentless as fuck, baby.” I give her a devilish smirk as I lean my lips down softly to her forehead and press a soft kiss to her flesh.
“I d-didn’t run,” she argues, my lips curve against her skin. I may not know much about my Selena, but I can tell she is a woman who isn’t easily broken. I secure her in my grip, instruct her to turn her head towards my chest and walk quickly through the club. We pass by the other customers, and the other strippers, all have suddenly peaked interest in me and the girl I have in my arms. The woman named Frankie comes running up in my direction, but with one glare, I’ve shut her down. She stops dead in her tracks. I plow through the doors of Russo’s and walk up to my car, unlock it, and slide Selena in on the passenger side. I shut the door quickly and get in on the opposite side, locking the doors. Now, for the tough part.
I look at her, mascara running down her face, lipstick smeared. I take in every aspect of the woman in my suit jacket and sigh, knowing this will not be easy. After all, nothing has been with her this far.
“I want to know the name of the man who touched what is mine.”
Chapter 7
Selena
“I want to know the name of the man that touched what is mine.” I cannot fucking believe that he just uttered those words to me, claiming me like I’m a fucking dog! This is my problem with him; he takes. Christian Steele is an overbearing ass who doesn’t consider the feelings of others whatsoever. Why does he think I ran from him that night?! Newsflash, Idiot!
I may have gone through something unbearable tonight, but I will not allow him to treat me like some shiny possession that he bought at Neiman Marcus. I will never allow him to treat me in such a way. In a way, maybe my fueled annoyance towards Christian is protecting me from fully processing what happened tonight.
“I’m not yours,” I seethe, clenching my teeth together so tightly that I feel as though my jaw may snap in half. I thought this night couldn’t get any worse, yet it is, with Christian and his I-am-alpha-male caveman attitude.
What in God’s name? Why am I even sitting in his car right now? I should be heading to my car, getting in it, and going straight home. Shit, but I can’t go home looking like this. A million different scenarios run through my mind, and the next thing I know, the car is moving, and Christian is driving us into downtown Atlanta.
“Where are you taking me?” I ask anxiety flooding through my entire body. The last thing I want to do is go to the police station, and knowing what I do, I’d swear that Christian is taking me there.
“Home,” Christian mutters, slapping me with blind shock as he weaves in and out of lanes so quickly that I fear he’s going to get us into a car accident. The last thing I expected from Christian Steele was for him to be a reckless driver. I can’t help but wonder if he’s driving this recklessly because it’s something he always does, or if it’s because of the situation that unfolded tonight. He made it apparent from the first moment that I met him that he wanted me. I avoided it like the plague and tonight, under the oddest circumstances, he found me. He laid claim like he did that first night we met, and here we are.
There are so many thoughts running rampant through my mind. How did he find me? Why did he stay? Why is he helping me right now?
We pass the buzzing city lights of Atlanta. I look out the window to see groups of people out on late night walks through the city. If I didn’t have the night I had, I’m sure that I’d love to be walking around downtown, going in and out of the bars, meeting people. That is something I would do if I didn’t have the mountain of responsibility on my shoulders that I do at home. Pretty much all of my social life has been incinerated in front of my eyes. I try to think hard about my friends, but then I remember I don’t really have many anymore, besides Brenna, that is. She’s the only friend that stuck by me through the good and the bad, from the day my mom abandoned my family to the day we put my father to rest. She’s been there with me through every shitty thing that has ever happened. She’s my ride or die, the only person that I know no matter what, I can count on.
Christian pulls into the parking garage of a building, going up a few floors until we settle into a spot that he’s happy with. My head is telling me not to get out of this car with him and go into his house, but my body is shutting down and I know the man won’t hurt me. Wow. Doesn’t that sound ridiculous? I know the man won’t hurt me. How can I be saying that when I barely know him? This has to be the shock, it can’t be anything else. Still, blindly, I will follow his lead.
He opens the car door, and I begin to step out. Instead, he pulls me close to his chest, and I grunt, still feeling the imprint that Matteo Varca left on me. My insides are on fire, a burning, and aching, a sensation that I don’t want to ever feel again. I hurt, and I know I shouldn’t.
Christian walks towards the elevator. It opens almost instantaneously, and he steps inside. Lightly tapping the “PH” button on the top. PH. Penthouse.
Inside, I’m shaking my head. Of course, Christian would have a penthouse.
He holds me close to him as if I’m a precious thing. I’m surprised that I didn’t even argue with him, demanding that he put me down so I could walk, but I wasn’t stupid. I know that I’m still in shock, my mind and my body are still trying to process every single god-awful thing that has happened tonight.
I wasn’t just raped.
I’m pretty certain I was betrayed by the only person I could trust at work. I’m even more certain that she willingly led me into the lion’s den, and that, fucking rips me apart.
Before I know it, he’s pressed his thumb to a digital pad in the
elevator. The doors open, and we’re walking into his penthouse, his modern, lush, and overly exquisite penthouse. The hallway opens up into a modern floor plan. I see what looks to be a bedroom off to the left, an expansive kitchen riddled with white marble which flows into a living room combination and then there are more doors leading to goodness knows where. I’m not shocked with the lack of color; blacks, whites, and grays line the area. It almost feels sterile, as this isn’t just a home, and it’s more of a place that he sleeps in.
“Why am I here, Christian?” I ask him softly, my voice almost breaking a whisper. Everything is finally catching up with me. Frankie asking me to give them a dance, insisting on how the tip will be good, and then I remember. Oh my god. I fumble with the suit jacket and tear it open, digging my hand into my bra and tossing the money that Matteo gave me. I watch as it hits the ground, like every dollar that hits Christian’s expensive wood floors will wash away the filth and disgust all over my body.
“Because I didn’t know anyplace else to take you that was safe.” He stares me straight in the eyes as the words spill past his lips. “I’m assuming you wouldn’t want to go back home looking like this, and even if I knew where you lived, I would have brought you here first, so you could relax. Truthfully, I’m not sure what I’m doing. I just know that you needed a safe, quiet place.”
I am rendered speechless within two seconds. No, I didn’t get a cocky, arrogant response from the billionaire party boy who is holding me in his arms. I felt something pure, something so genuine coming out of his lips. Never did I think I’d see that.
Christian walks me over and sets me down on a big, plush, black couch. It’s riddled with oversized pillows and a gray fur blanket.
“Thanks,” I mutter quietly. He shakes his head, acting like there’s nothing significant about what he’s doing. Maybe there isn’t, but maybe there is.
“What’s that?” He growls, looking at the floor where I tossed the cash. I don’t want to tell him what it is, and I won’t. I don’t owe Christian Steele anything, even though he is helping me tremendously tonight, I still don’t owe him a damn thing.
“It’s nothing,” I lie, hoping that he will just drop it. He opens his mouth as if he’s about to say something to me, and then the doorbell rings. He shuts his mouth and walks back towards the door. I can’t see who he’s talking to, but I can hear the footsteps coming my way, wondering who the hell he invited over and suddenly feeling insanely uncomfortable being in the presence of someone else. My hair is a mess, I have Christian’s suit jacket on, my makeup is smeared; I’m a fucking wreck.
I come face to face with a short woman who can’t be older than forty. She has curly blonde hair, big beautiful lips, and I don’t mistake the medical bag I see in her left hand. That’s when I get nervous. What on Earth is he thinking? “Baby, this is my friend, Harlow. She’s a doctor, and I asked her to come and make sure you were okay.”
I shouldn’t like that Christian keeps calling me baby, and maybe I don’t like it, but I won’t lie and say that his pet name isn’t calming me down – because it is; it helps me forget everything that’s happened tonight. Or, no, forgetting is the wrong word. He’s helping me focus on something other than what’s going on inside of my own head.
“Hi,” I murmur softly, waiting for the woman to say anything. She doesn’t at first. She purses her lips together and looks to Christian.
“What in God’s name happened to her, Chrissy?”
Oh, hell no.
“I’m sitting right here, if you wanted to know what the fuck happened, you could’ve just asked me instead of turning to him. He’s not my fucking keeper,” I snap, not regretting any bit of my outburst whatsoever. The medical bag was the giveaway that she’s some sort of doctor or nurse, but I’ll be damned if she looks to him for questions she should be asking me. It’s fucking ridiculous.
I’m not some traumatized girl who can’t answer questions, and I’m sure as hell not some pussy ass little bitch.
“Well, you sure are a spitfire. I didn’t think you’d be saying much of anything looking the way you do.” She gives me a soft smirk before she looks back up to Christian. “I like her, whatever this is, you’d better not fuck it up. C’mon kid, let’s get you checked out.” Harlow walks forward and goes into what looks to be like a bedroom on the left. I can see her pass through the doors and place her medical bag down on the bed.
I position my hands under me and push up, tossing my legs over the side of the couch. I begin to stand and walk, and I maybe get ten steps before Christian has lifted me back up into his arms and is carrying me through the doorway. “I can walk, you know,” I grumble at him. Christian mutters something under his breath that sounds like a growl. I want to ask him what he said, but before I know it, I’m sitting on the bed.
He looks at me, brows furrowed. “Do what Harlow says. Try not to be such a pain in the ass, she’s trying to help you.” And there we go, cocky, arrogant, dickwad, Christian Steele is back.
“I was wondering why she was so heated, now I think I know. I forgot how much of a dick you are.” Harlow glares at Christian as he heads towards the door, “Leave us alone and let me check on my patient. Get out, you big ape.” And with that, he shuts it and leaves.
“He has always been a dick, if you’re wondering,” Harlow tells me as she looks through her medical bag, I’m not sure what exactly she’s looking for. I realize that Christian had to have been a dick for a while. You don’t just magically become one overnight. “I’d blame his brothers, but I will not give them credit for turning him into that pissy monster out there, nope, that had to be their father.”
“I thought you just said he’s always been a dick,” I point out, and she simply smirks back as she continues digging.
“He has, but he wasn’t when he was younger. Or…well, not really. I mean, he was kind of always a dick, but now he’s a super dick. I wonder though…”
“What’re you wondering exactly?”
Harlow makes an “ah!” sound, pulling out a pair of plastic gloves, as she slips them on she continues to speak. “I’ve always told Christian and his brothers if they ever needed me, for anything, all they had to do was call. I wouldn’t ask questions, I wouldn’t feel some Christian do-gooder urge to run to the police and tell them whatever I’d just witnessed. I’d simply just use the talent that God graced me with and save lives. Jordan and Logan have called me, a bajillion times at least! Now, when we’re talking about that guy who no doubt is standing right outside of the doorway listening to our conversation like a child…” She points to the door and smirks, tapping her foot at me. “He has never, ever, EVER, once called me. So, I’m a little bit curious. Why did he call me tonight? I know you’ll end up telling me, since I have to check you out and all. My point is, you must be pretty darn special to that giant asswipe out there to get him to call me.”
I’m not special to Christian Steele at all. This is our second encounter, ever. Our first was at an art exhibit opening, it was a chance meeting, something that would have normally never happened. A wrong place, wrong time kind of situation. We had a few drinks, ate some really good food, and danced. Then, I found out who he was, and I knew. I knew that I needed to stay far away from him. It was like a flashing neon light was warning me away from him, danger, danger! I wasn’t wrong for bee-lining out the door that night and disappearing. Everyone knows what the Steeles do. People want to act like they’re dumb and don’t know a damn thing, but it’s all just a load of crock. I wouldn’t know the logistics of what he does for a living, but I know about the front, the notorious Steele Enterprises. That’s not his real business. It’s not the real way that the Steeles make their money, and I know it. The last thing I needed was for any of his enemies to come after the kids.
If I thought that being in a relationship, or anything close to it with Christian Steele came without risk – pfft, I’d be batshit fucking crazy. I wasn’t ever worried about me because I know that no matter what happens I’ll
be fine. Life has thrown me curveballs, and I’ve overcome every single one, but the kids – my kids. I’ll be damned if I ever put them in dangers path, and that’s what Christian Steele is.
He is a danger.
“I’m not special to him. I’m just a girl,” I tell her. I don’t want to think about why Christian insists that I am his. It’s too much to think about…tonight, Christian’s obvious claim on me…there’s just too much.
“Somehow, I think we both know that isn’t true.” I don’t have any energy left inside of me to argue. Normally, I’d scream and yell until I’m red in the face. I have plenty of experience doing that at home with my brother, but tonight, well, tonight I just don’t have an ounce of energy left inside me. “Now, are you gonna tell me what happened tonight, or am I gonna have to go ask Chrissy?”
I take in a deep breath, figuring it’ll just be easier to tell her what happened, so I do. I don’t leave out any gritty detail, but I also don’t give her more information than what is necessary. I just, give her what is needed for her to properly treat me.
Harlow stares at me long and hard, and her eyes look sad, as if she’s sympathizing with me, but I don’t want her sympathy. The only thing I want is for her to tell me I’m good, and then for me to go back home to my kids. Shit, the kids. I look around the room and see a clock on the bedside table, it reads “1:32”, fuck, it’s past midnight. Luke. Shit! I don’t have my cell, it’s still at the club. He’s probably been calling and calling me!
“You’re sure you don’t want to go to the hospital and have a rape kit done? If you do, you can prosecute this guy and he can…” I stop her before she can even finish. I already told Harlow I didn’t want to go, it’s not like it would even matter. He’d get out scot free. Men like Matteo Varca always got out, no matter what.
“You don’t know that,” Harlow chastises as she takes off her plastic gloves and tosses them in the trash can by the bed. “I can only help you so much. You wouldn’t even let me examine you to make sure he didn’t cause you to tear, so I can’t judge why you’re so uncomfortable besides the incident itself. I just want you to take it easy, take an anti-inflammatory like Naproxen for the pain. And, Selena? You need to go and get tested for STDs. I know you don’t want to hear that, but you don’t know what he has. I just want you to be safe, rather than sorry.”
Stripping a Steele Page 5