by E. C. Land
“You okay?” Poppy asks as she comes by. She’s been one of the nicest to me since I arrived. A lot of the women are faking it simply because if they’re an all-out dick, well, they won’t have a job. But Poppy isn’t like the rest of the ladies here. When she smiles, you can practically hear fairy music and birds singing. She’s just so happy all the time. Then again, she looks like someone who’s really happy. She has soft pink hair, kind of pastel, but it’s still bright. Nowhere close to being neon, though.
“Yeah, I’m all right. Just waiting for Rémy to come back,” I tell her, and she narrows her eyes before realizing what’s going on.
With a light laugh, she takes a seat beside me. “I knew he had some sort of crush on you. Rémy talks to us all the time, but he’s been avoiding you for some reason.”
“Really?” I’m a bit surprised by what she’s said. Since starting here, I’ve barely seen Rémy.
“Yep, he buys us food sometimes, sends us for spa days. He treats us really well, and he’s hands down the best boss I ever had.” Poppy goes on to tell me as she twirls around on the barstool like a kid would. I stare at her and can’t help but giggle.
She grabs onto the bar. “Sorry, I get a little fidgety sometimes. If I stay still, I feel the need to keep moving, so I distract myself with stuff like this. Plus, isn’t it fun to just spin around for a minute? Kinda takes away all the world’s worries.”
I wouldn’t know. I want to say that to her, but I don’t. “I imagine it does,” is what comes out of my mouth.
“You’re stressed. I know just what to do for it!” Poppy slides off the barstool and sets her bag down where she was sitting. “Okay, now hold onto your seat and just close your eyes.” I barely get a grip on the seat before I’m swirling around in circles. Even with my eyes closed, it’s like my body knows to naturally get dizzy. Poppy’s laughter rings out from around me, and before I know it, I’m laughing too. I open up my eyes just as the chair is slowing down, and Poppy smiles brightly at me.
“Thank you. I really needed that,” I tell her, and she nods.
“Glad to be of service, ma’am. I’m gonna get going, but I’ll see you tomorrow. You did great out there tonight, by the way. The crowd went Gwen Stefani bananas for you.”
I break out into laughter at her Gwen Stefani reference. Poppy’s a bit eccentric, but I like her. “You’re a real sweetheart.”
“Shoot, don’t say that too loud. My ex might hear you,” Poppy mutters, and a sinking feeling strikes through my gut.
I swallow hard before gaining the courage to ask her this. “Um, did you and Rémy date at some point, or?”
Poppy’s face pales. “God no! That guy has so many issues—er, I mean he’s great for you and all, but I. Shit. I’m just trying to. Fuck, I was trying to be funny and look what I’ve done. Put my damn foot in my mouth.”
“I’ve got some issues, huh?” Rémy’s voice comes up from the side of the room.
Poppy glances over at him and laughs nervously. “What? No. I said I needed a box of tissues.”
“Oh, are you all right?” Rémy asks, but anyone who’s paying attention can see he’s trying to call Poppy out on her bullshit.
Poppy doesn’t seem like a great liar, so I interject. “I was talking to her about a French movie I saw, it was tragic and beautiful. One of the best cinematic experiences, if I’m being honest. Dear Poppy was simply telling me she’s empathetic and would need some tissues.”
Rémy licks his bottom lip and a grin forms on his face. “I see, I see.”
“But anyway, I need to get going. I’m beat. See you tomorrow, Cora!” Poppy waves, grabs her bag from the barstool, and walks off. Now it’s just Rémy and I alone, in this part of the club by ourselves. The stage lights shine bright from behind us, and the red and gold accents pop vividly.
I grab onto my drink the bartender made me before I left and take a sip. “Seems Poppy’s a real fan of yours.”
Rémy comes up beside me and stands next to the barstool.
I shrug my shoulders. “She’s a nice girl. I don’t think it’s hard to befriend her.”
“No, it isn’t, but it’s not always easy for her to open up. It was nice to see her chatting away with you.” Rémy walks around the bar, goes behind it, and grabs a short glass. He puts a couple cubes of ice in the glass and grabs a bottle of scotch. It’s higher up on the shelf, but I figure he’d have good taste. Rémy pours the amber liquid over the ice, and puts the bottle on the back of the bar.
The silence is damning, but my heart pounds effortlessly in my chest. The anticipation is almost too much. He turns around and takes a sip of the scotch, his eyes focusing directly on me. You know when a hot man stares at you like you’re on the menu for dinner? That’s how I feel right now.
I lift my drink and take a sip, wondering if this feeling will simply dissipate, but I know better. There’s no way it will. Not with the way I’ve felt over the last couple days. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about Rémy. Part of me wonders if I get him out of my system just once, if this will all go away. I know that’s the logical part of me, but deep down, I don’t want whatever’s about to happen to be a one-time thing. Funny how I haven’t even had a taste and I already want a second bite.
“Is something on your mind, Cora?” Rémy asks me with the sultriest tone I’ve heard from him yet.
I lick my lips, and the slight peach taste of my lip gloss coats my tongue. Rémy sets his glass down and keeps his eyes on me. The bar is literally between us, but I’ve never felt chemistry like this. Not ever. It’s . . . unexplainable. My palms grow sweaty and I bite my lip.
Rémy clears his throat as he makes his way around the bar. “I shouldn’t be here right now. I shouldn’t even be entertaining the idea.”
I stay seated and turn my neck to keep my eyes on him. “You shouldn’t be doing what exactly?”
Rémy gets within a few inches of me, and he’s so close every time he breathes, his breath hits the side of my cheek. He grabs onto the barstool, turns me to completely face him, and stares deeply into my eyes. “This,” is what he says before his harsh lips collide with mine. As much as I’ve been hoping for this, I’m a little caught off guard at how forward he’s being.
Still, I wrap my arms around his neck, and he deepens our kiss. His tongue crashes with mine, and I inhale sharply as we both keep moving. While his kiss is rough, his hands on my body are delicate. Rémy pulls me up into his strong arms, and I wrap my legs around his hips. His hardness presses against my center, and I gasp. I’m sure of it now. He wants me. He really wants to do this.
“I know I should stop,” he tells me while he breaks our kiss. His tone comes out in a low grumble and he scans his eyes over my body. It’s hot, every movement of his eyes, every caress of his fingertips along my skin.
Looking right into his eyes, I tell him the truth. “I don’t want you to stop. I want you to fuck me.”
Rémy snickers and hooks his fingers under my shorts that I changed into after he came into the dressing area. He yanks them down until one is barely hanging off one foot. He unzips his pants, pulls out his cock, and lines himself at my entrance. He’s thick like a tree limb, but I’ll take it. I need this to happen. I need it so fucking badly.
“I shouldn’t be doing this.” It’s like he’s having an internal battle with himself.
I grab onto his tie and yank him forward. I glare into his eyes. “If you won’t fuck me, then I’ll go find someone who actually will.” I’m bluffing, of course, but I want to make him angry. I want to make him furious.
Rémy drives his cock into me, and I cry out from the impact. My pussy stretches wide for his cock, and soon he’s drilling into me so hard my shoulder blades are grinding against the wooden bartop.
I stare at the globe light fixtures ahead and my core ignites like a wildfire. With every thrust, I’m burning more and more, even closer to the edge. Rémy groans, and the vein on his forehead pulsates. We’re both so close and I know it. My
pussy tightens around his cock, and his thrusting gets even harder. Every time he moves an inch, hell even a millimeter, the sensation floods through every limb.
“Rémy, fuck!” I scream and dig my nails into his back. He growls out his release and stills inside me. Thank goodness I’m on birth control. We stay like this for a couple minutes before he pulls out of me, tucks his cock back into his pants, and looks right at me.
“I might just have to come back for round two,” Rémy tells me with a glint of mischief in his eyes.
I slide off the bar, drop down to my knees in front of him and unzip his pants. “Why come back when we can start again?”
I slide my hand into his pants, pull out his semi-hard cock, and pump it a good couple of times. It grows larger and harder, and I open my mouth and take it in. He groans, grabs ahold of my hair with his hands, and chuckles.
“Fuck, you’re a dream woman.”
Chapter Eight
Rémy
Over the past several days, I’ve spent a lot of my time with Cora. The two of us hit it off, and I look forward to being with her. I don’t think there’s ever been a woman I’ve wanted to spend more than a night with.
Cora is different. She’s special in so many ways—I can’t even count them on my fingers or toes. Yeah, it’s corny, but whatever. The feelings I have for her have been a bit mind-boggling. I never understood how Félix could fall for Madelaine as quickly as he did. Now I get it.
It’s been a blissful few days without drama from Brittney. I know she’s not gone. I’ve asked Malcolm to get a man on her. I want to know her every move. I need leverage to get her out of my life for good. Brittney thought she could con her way into staying in my bed, but I’m not about to let that happen.
Standing in my kitchen, I take a sip of my coffee while watching the news. My house has an open floor plan. I can be cooking at the stove and still see my TV on the wall in the living room. This works for me when the Saints are playing. When I bought this place, I wanted it for this very reason. Bonus? Four bedrooms, three baths.
The second-best feature of this place is my bedroom. I had my little sister, Désirée, decorate the entire house. Thankfully, she didn’t make it girly. The woman’s got a talent for matching a home to a person. My room is decked out in charcoal-gray, tan, and white colors. The king-size bed is situated in the middle of the room, facing the French doors leading out to the balcony.
Something on the news draws my attention, and I frown, reading the headline:
“New Orleans kids going missing.”
What the hell?
Pulling out my phone, I dial Félix’s number.
He answers on the second ring. “You seeing this?” Of course, my brother would ask this question. He and I are the same. We can easily predict what the other is doing when we’re doing it. Probably because we used to live together and have such a strong bond.
“Yeah, what the hell is going on?” I grunt, not getting a good feeling about this. Kids are going missing in our town. None of us will stand for this shit. We have no choice but to get to the bottom of this and find out why.
“I don’t know, but I’m calling Nicholas and Tristan. We need to sit down and discuss the situation. I won’t tolerate this. This is our town, and whoever this person is, needs to learn a lesson—we fucking run New Orleans,” he snarls.
I can see it in my mind: my brother’s face furious, his eyes hardening in anger, his jaw set as he clenches his teeth.
“Nicholas is in LA right now,” I remind Félix.
“Fuck. I’ll give him a call and tell him he’s needed back here. When he gets in, we’ll talk about it,” he grinds out. “Until then, I’ll have someone look into it. See if we can’t find a pattern or some shit.”
“Maybe Chains knows something about it,” I suggest.
“Call him.”
“Right,” I say, hanging up with Félix. I scroll through my contacts, finding Chains’ number and pressing the call button.
Before Félix killed our father and called a truce with the Inferno’s Clutch MC, we were enemies who hated each other. One of the main reasons was because of Deanna DeLancy, my stepmother. The wicked woman didn’t just torture my sister, Olivia. She made Chains’ life a living hell too. When his wife killed Deanna, I knew Félix would set our plan in motion.
“What do you want?” Chains’ voice pulls me from my thoughts when he answers.
“You know anything about kids being kidnapped in New Orleans?” I ask, getting straight to the point.
“We’re already on it. Tell Félix the situation is being handled, and if he sees any of my men in the city, to leave them be. This is a club problem.” What the hell does he mean, “it’s a club problem”?
“You know he’s going to want an explanation,” I inform him.
“He may want an explanation, but the issue’s being handled. Ryder’s ol’ lady’s bitch of a mother is the reason, and we’ve got it under control. Those kids will be found.” With that, Chains hangs up on me.
Pulling the phone from my ear, I shake my head and call Félix back.
“Did you talk to Chains?” he answers with a growl.
“Yeah,” I confirm and tell him what’s going on. “Félix, you know who Ryder’s ol’ lady is, don’t you?” Brielle, she’s a survivor of a sex trafficking ring that was running through Louisiana for a time.
Not too long ago, Chains came to us with some riveting information that shouldn’t have shocked us in the slightest bit. My siblings and I knew about our father’s history with Chains’ mother. What we didn’t know was he got her pregnant at such a young age. She gave the child up for adoption. Learning this changed quite a few things for all of us.
Then there’s the fact Brielle’s one hell of a tech guru. It’s rumored she was the one who was forced to set up the websites for the auctions the Pelletier family used to organize and hold.
“Of course I do. If Chains and his men are going to handle it, I’ll tell Malcolm to make sure everyone stays out of his way. If he needs to be in the city to find that conniving woman, then I’ll allow it. However, I will be keeping a close eye on the situation. Make sure the problem doesn’t leak over to us,” Félix grinds out, seeming reluctant. It’s no surprise Félix knows Chains is looking for the woman.
At Tyres’ wedding, Ryder mentioned something was going on with Brielle. He said something about her mother constantly calling. He even confided in me that Brielle isn’t aware he knows her mother’s the one who sold her to Titus Pelletier. I’m sure Félix took this information and looked into Sylvie Heroux.
“Right.” I nod, agreeing with my brother to an extent. This situation might be a club problem for them, but it can easily become one for us as well if it’s not monitored. I’m sure Félix has thought of the same thing.
Finishing my conversation, I toss my phone on the counter and let out a deep breath. If it’s not one thing, it’s another.
As much as I want to dwell on the information and figure out what’s going on myself, I’ve got shit to do. Like, prepare for my date tonight. It’s Cora’s night off, and I’m taking her out.
A knock on my door draws my attention to the front of the house as said door opens. Only a few people have a key to my place—they’re all related to me.
I smile as Désirée steps inside and meets my gaze while giving me one of her gorgeous smiles. “Hey.”
“Hey yourself. What’re you doing here?” I wasn’t expecting her home for another few weeks.
“I’m home for a few days. I wanted to see the new apartment Madelaine found me and get a few things in order before moving back home,” she says, clasping her hands in front of her and pulling her bottom lip between her teeth.
“Well, it’s good to see you, sis. We’ve all missed you and can’t wait to have you home for good,” I say. “What’s going on? You look nervous about something.”
Désirée sighs and stares down at the floor for a moment before meeting my gaze again. “I want
to introduce my boyfriend to the family.”
“Okay,” I say, drawing out my response. I know she’s been dating a guy for the past year, but she’s never wanted us to meet him before. Why now?
“He came home with me, and I don’t know how to approach Félix without him losing his mind.” Either way she goes about it, our brother isn’t going to approve of her being with this guy. Hell, I don’t even approve of him.
“Désirée, the guy’s going to have to be a man about it and face us,” I inform her. “But let’s not talk about this guy right now. Let me take you out for breakfast. It’s already been a morning and it’s not even ten yet. I could use some beignets and chicory coffee.”
Giving me a sad smile, my little sister nods in agreement. She knows I can’t give her the answers she’s looking for because it’ll never happen.
This guy won’t be good enough for her, and that’s a fact—we’ll never approve of him.
Chapter Nine
Corentina
It’s been a few days since the night I had with Rémy in the burlesque room, and I can’t stop thinking about it. Every time I close my eyes, I think about the way he stared down at me while I was deep throating his cock. The sex we had was amazing, and I can’t deny the connection we have. It’s there and it’s blatantly obvious. Now, I’ve never done this with one of my bosses before. I know it’s wrong, but I couldn’t care less. For so long, I’ve lived life by the rules, and this is my first time doing things my way.
Every night I’ve worked, I’ve seen Poppy, and we ended up exchanging phone numbers yesterday. She’s a real sweetheart, and I mean, she really is. You meet a lot of people in this industry, and many of them hide under the guise of being nice. Not Poppy, though. She’s as sweet as can be. So sweet we made plans to go shopping today. I drove the car I’m currently leasing down to Diamond Dancers and I’m waiting for Poppy to meet me here. Sure enough, she parks her car next to mine and hops in on the passenger side.