Glitter and Greed (Brooklyn Brothers #4)

by Melanie Munton

  With every suggestive word called out from the audience, I planned another murder.

  With every dollar bill flung, another piece of kindling was added to the fire of my beastly fury.

  My temper rose and simmered, until all I could hear in my head was the whistle of a kettle on a stovetop. A turbulent storm raged inside me, and there was no compass to guide the ship through the deadly eye of it.

  A three-minute song felt like it took an hour.

  By the time she left the stage—after smiling at the depraved crowd—she wore nothing but a pair of pasties and that flimsy skirt. Thank fuck she hadn’t removed the skirt. But nothing was hiding those tits from the lecherous eyes of all these trolls. Pasties didn’t do shit to hide their shape, their perkiness, their perfection.

  And if there hadn’t been a bouncer there to gather all the bills that were scattered across the stage, I would have been hauled away in handcuffs. Because if I had to watch Cat crawl around on her hands and knees, collecting all those tips, I was truly going to rip the roof off the building and probably slaughter everyone in it.

  Feeling untethered and a little manic, I frantically paced around the bar, waiting for Cat to reappear. After several minutes, she finally walked back out onto the floor, once again wearing the schoolgirl outfit.

  But no man could forget what she’d looked like onstage.

  It wasn’t hard to picture her fully naked body once she’d stripped off that shirt and bra. That image was now burned into the brain of every man in this room. No doubt, each and every one of them would fall asleep tonight, jacking off to Cat’s body swinging around that pole.

  Before I could approach her, she snagged an empty tray and resumed her duties serving all the tables on the floor. I was still working out the best strategy of how to talk to her and what to say when an arm belonging to the same married drunk who’d grabbed her before suddenly shot out and wrapped around Cat’s middle.

  He’s fucking dead.

  She had to quickly balance the tray of empty glasses when he roughly yanked her down onto his suited lap. I immediately looked toward the security guys standing near the entrance, but they were trying to break up a heated altercation between two customers and were distracted by their shouting to pay attention to Cat. There was a “no touching” rule at this club, even though it wasn’t always strictly enforced. If they threw out every guy that barely touched one of the girls, they’d never have any customers in here.

  But this was a whole lot of touching.

  When Cat tried to push to her feet, he pulled her right back down. Definitely dead. It was the first time I’d ever seen her face waver with uncertainty. Normally, it was like nothing got to her. Nothing made her wobble.

  Cat was tough.

  But this motherfucker was bothering her.

  You could see it stamped all over her face. The way her mouth tightened, her shoulders stiffened. She was gripping her tray like she was seconds away from whacking him over the head with it.

  I’ve seen enough.

  The dumbass was lucky I’d restrained this much and hadn’t already dropped him.

  Downing the rest of my beer in two gulps, I slammed the glass onto the bar and moved in their direction. Even the nearly obliterated guys who were sips away from passing out on the floor got out of my way. They knew by the look on my face not to fuck with me. I was still several feet away when Cat’s head jerked in my direction, as if sensing my presence.

  Her eyes widened in fear.

  That irritated the hell out of me. The last thing I wanted was for her to be afraid of me.

  But then I realized…she was afraid for him. Because she’d already seen me in action. She knew what kind of damage I could inflict.

  I came to a stop right next to the son of a bitch in the rumpled suit. His four buddies around the table were just as sloshed as he was, but they were at least smart enough to shrink back in their seats at the sight of me. His hand still had a firm grasp on Cat’s waist as his glazed eyes slowly ticked up to mine.

  “The next dance is mine,” I ground out in a menacing voice.

  He glared through half-lidded eyes. “Oh, yeah? You already pay for it?”

  He reached into his pocket and threw down a one-hundred-dollar bill.

  I snorted in both disbelief and fury.

  Did he really think that was all she was worth? A hundred measly bucks? As padded as my bank account had gotten over the last few years, I’d never possess enough money for what she was worth. Because her value went far beyond money. To reduce her to a price was fucking insulting.

  I pulled out my entire money clip and threw it on top of his bill. It was thick and heavy, and all you could see were hundreds.

  His eyes widened. He swallowed nervously.

  Yeah, motherfucker. And I’ll keep going.

  Hell, I’d bankrupt the asshole before I let him think he could ever have a moment of Cat’s time. In fact, he had approximately three more seconds to get his fucking hands off. And that was me being generous.

  Despite Cat’s insinuation to the contrary, Luka Rossetti was not fucking generous.

  His fingers released her waist, and she rose to her feet to stand next to me. Eyes locked hard on his, I swiped the money off the table, including his hundred dollars. It was better off in her pocket than his.

  While I was close enough, I spoke so that only he could hear me. “You’d never be willing to pay what she’s worth.” Because in my world, very few things were paid for with money. The currency I knew and understood best was blood. “Remember that the next time you think you’re rich enough to touch what you can’t afford. I’ll make sure you end up penniless.”

  Then I turned my back on the worthless piece of shit and led Cat away with my hand on her lower back. She didn’t say a word, and I was afraid of what that meant. But I wouldn’t be able to think past my own anger until I got her alone. Wouldn’t be able to form another coherent thought until my eyes were the only ones raking over her killer body.

  I guided us toward the back rooms where the girls gave private dances. The lights above the doors indicated which ones were occupied. Conveniently, the very one we used that first night two months ago had a green light above it.

  I shoved her inside.

  Kicked the door shut behind us.

  All right, you’ve got her in here. What’s your plan now? Good question. I hadn’t thought too far beyond getting her out of that dick’s hands.

  But she saved me from having to speak first. Hands propped on her voluptuous hips, she exploded, “What’s your game, Luka?”

  If she wanted a fight, I was more than happy to oblige in my current state of mind. Fighting is what I do best, baby girl.

  I crossed my arms. “Why are you dancing onstage now?”

  “That’s not really your business, is it?”

  I just stared at her, waiting.

  She glared. “I have to get back to work.”

  “Good luck leaving this room.”

  She had to get past me first.

  Apparently realizing that, she looked away, her lips pursing. “I need to make more money.”

  “Because?”

  Her gaze flew back to mine. “En serio? So that I can move out of your gym and get my own apartment in a building that doesn’t have a 99% crime rate.”

  My muscles tightened. “I told you that you could stay there as long you need until you save up enough money. You don’t have to force yourself into doing something you clearly don’t want to do.”

  “Easy for someone who carries around a roll of hundreds the size of my fist to say,” she retorted acerbically. “Where I come from, you check your pride at the door and do whatever you have to do to survive.”

  Then she wasn’t living by her own credo. Because this woman had so much pride, it was tangible. And admirable. And a huge turn-on.

  “Sometimes the sacrifice isn’t always worth the risk,” I said somberly. “Those guys out there aren’t always going to be marri
ed drunks who can’t have their wives asking too many questions. What happens when one of them decides to put up more of a fight?”

  Her eyebrow notched up. “Is personal advice offered in my amenity package too?”

  I shot her a look. “Guaranteed I’m not the only dangerous man in this club tonight, Cat. And there would have been a much different outcome if one of them had grabbed you.”

  She threw her hands up. “So, what? You going to be here every night to act as my personal security?”

  My upper lip curled. “If I have to.”

  She huffed. “That’s not how this is going to work. The only thing I signed on for was a place to sleep. If that comes with strings attached, I’m out right now.”

  Yeah, I was being a jackass. I didn’t own her. I shouldn’t have been acting so proprietary. Just because I’d given her a place to stay didn’t mean she had become my territory. But the beastly side of me that I’d lost control of ever since I met her insisted that’s exactly what it meant. Because it had nothing to do with beating up her neighbors or giving her a bed and a roof over her head. It wasn’t about her owing me for anything.

  It was about the electricity between us.

  The current that was like a live wire between our bodies. Charging our impulses, igniting our blood. More than anything else, it was that connection that made it feel like part of her belonged to me. A link that somehow gave me the right to claim her as at least partially mine.

  Only it didn’t.

  And she wasn’t.

  Besides, live wires could be dangerous. If that circuit malfunctions, the charge could kill you. And something about the air around Cat felt tenuous. Hazardous. She wore mystery like a heavy cloak. I couldn’t tell what types of secrets she kept, but I knew she had them. In spades. My instincts had kept me alive through multiple tours and countless deadly situations.

  And they were telling me that Cat was a threat.

  A threat to me? Not sure.

  But I wouldn’t stop until I found out.

  “There are no strings if I’m a paying customer.”

  Her arms fell to her sides. “Perdón?”

  I tossed my money clip onto the small table beside the same leather couch I sat on that first night. Dropping myself down onto it, I sprawled out and draped my arms over the back cushions.

  She watched my every move with growing curiosity.

  I nodded over at the cash. “That ought to be enough to keep you in here for the rest of your shift.”

  What the fuck are you doing?

  Her eyes flicked to it before returning to me. “Are you joking?”

  With a hard expression and a hard voice, I bit out, “I’m not remotely capable of joking right now.”

  My gaze traveled the length of her, another part of me hardening. I had never wanted both of my heads between a woman’s tits so desperately in all my life.

  “Dance for me, Cat.”

  The sensual demand rolled over my skin, making my toes curl inside my five-inch heels.

  Dance for me, Cat.

  It was a different sensation to have inside this room because every other man I danced for made my skin crawl with disgust. In fact, the only man who had ever made me feel like an actual woman instead of an object or tool was the very one sitting on that couch.

  His heated inspection made me feel wanted. Desired.

  Needed to a desperate degree.

  I wasn’t working at Rumors by choice. The job was a necessity to me, and one of vital importance. My reasons for taking off my clothes and dancing for money were worth sacrificing my pride, especially now that I was in need of a new place to live. And maybe I should have been furious with Luka for what he did out there, jeopardizing my job and the reputation I’d created at this club.

  I was here for information about my sister.

  And Luka’s actions risked me not getting any more of it.

  Sí, maybe I should have been angry at his behavior. And with any other man, I would have been. Because if any other man had said those words to me—there are no strings if I’m a paying customer—I would have felt cheap. But that was so clearly not Luka’s intention at all. I knew it, just as I knew he would have cracked that man’s jaw out on the floor if he had dared to challenge Luka to a fight.

  As loca as it was, I would have been enraged if he’d expected anything for free.

  So, in a twisted kind of way, he was respecting my choice. I could refuse him and walk right out that door, and I knew he wouldn’t stop me. He wouldn’t have stopped me out on the floor if I’d resisted then, but I hadn’t. Because the part of me that was still a passionate woman with needs wanted to go with him. My curiosity had demanded it. My attraction to him had craved it.

  Inside this room, my other obligations didn’t exist.

  My responsibilities were momentarily suspended.

  That need to release all my pent-up energy was louder and stronger than ever.

  Maintaining his piercing eye contact, I clicked a button on the remote attached to the wall. Seconds later, “I Feel Like I’m Drowning” by Two Feet came over the room’s speakers. The melody caressed my skin, making my bones turn to liquid. I took my bottom lip between my teeth as excitement fueled my movements.

  Luka’s nostrils flared.

  His hands clamped down on the couch. As if he were holding himself back.

  Maybe I don’t want him to.

  The naughty thrill that thought elicited had my hips swaying. The knowledge that his grip on that couch was the only thing stopping him from launching himself across the room was delicious in its wickedness. The fact that he needed a barrier between us or else I’d already be underneath him appealed to my rebellious side. Tipping my head up at the ceiling, my hair cascaded down my back. The position thrust my breasts in his direction.

  Did he just groan?

  A lascivious smile graced my mouth.

  I gave him my back as I untied my white top, leaving me in only the racy black bra and microscopic skirt. My double Ds spilled out of the cups, which was the idea. Looking saucily over my shoulder, I threw the shirt at him with a wink.

  He didn’t spare the shirt a glance as it landed on his thigh. His forehead had broken out in a sweat. His muscles were locked up. It looked like he was about to break the couch in half.

  “Show me,” he demanded in a gravelly voice. “Now.”

  That was the voice of a man being tormented.

  I turned.

  His eyes fell on my breasts—and his chest caved.

  The first question all the girls at Rumors had asked me on my first day was if they were real. And not all of them had believed me. I’d definitely been blessed—or cursed, depending on how you looked at it—with a sizeable chest.

  “Jesus Christ,” he breathed.

  Luka shoved up the sleeves of his thermal shirt, exposing part of the sleeve on his right arm. His breaths came faster, his mouth hanging open. When his tongue dragged over his lower lip, I imagined it doing the same thing to my nipples. Imagined it licking them until they went numb from pleasure.

  “Take it off.” He never looked away from the mounds that were feeling heavier with every passing second under his white hot scrutiny. “I need to see them, Cat.”

  I shook my head.

  Slipping my fingers beneath both bra straps, I tugged upward, giving my breasts a little jiggle.

  His face darkened. “Don’t bait a wild animal unless you’re prepared to feed it.”

  “Hungry, are we?”

  He slowly leaned forward, propping his elbows on his knees. And glared. “You have no fucking idea how long it’ll take to satisfy my appetite right now. That clear enough for you?”

  Abundantly.

  And in that moment, something else had made itself clear. Being around Luka awoke something inside me. Something that made me feel thrillingly alive for the first time in my life. His presence was like an aphrodisiac to my body. The kind of aura he had was addictive to someone like me who craved
passion, almost to a fault, and often tended to cave to temptation, most certainly to a fault.

  Stepping back toward the single pole in the room, I struck a pirouette pose, arms raised above my head as I leaned back against it. When I rolled my hips provocatively—lewdly—I imagined it was Luka himself behind me. Luka’s lap cradling my ass. That growing erection nestled nice and snug between my cheeks. Fucking me through my skirt, rubbing right over my throbbing clit.

  Gripping higher up on the pole, I spun around in a basic corkscrew and got swept away by the crooning notes of the angsty ballad. My hair whipped around my face, my miniscule skirt flipping, exposing my black thong.

  I couldn’t explain why I loved teasing him like that. Baiting a wild animal, as he put it. A quick flash of ass. The swell of my breasts bouncing over the top of the demi cups without revealing nipple.

  It was a cat and mouse game between us, where the cat was tied up and the mouse had full control.

  Watch what I do with that control, corazón.

  Feeling the familiar rush of adrenaline, I stepped it up and twisted into harder positions, more challenging poses. With my right leg hooked around the pole, I straightened my left and bent my upper body backwards. Extending my arms, I briefly luxuriated in the stretch, the test of flexibility in my muscles. When I peeked through the strands of hair blanketing my face, my leg nearly lost its grip.

  Luka ran his hand over his mouth.

  Then slowly…sensually…erotically…

  He slid it down his chest, over his abs, and palmed his bulge.

  Squeezing to the rhythm of the sexy melody, he rubbed himself as he watched my body contort. I wondered if his thoughts were running in the same direction mine were. That I could twist myself around his muscular body in the same ways I could that pole. That I could take him inside me in the most salacious positions he could imagine. I could torment him with a hundred different moves before he actually penetrated me.

  His face said it all.

  Luka liked the kink.

  His mouth watered for the filth.

  Everything about him was…carnal.

  By the time I broke into a full jade where I was basically doing the upside-down splits—open legs spread wide in his direction—his panting could be heard over the music. And even over the music and from across the room, I swear I heard him murmur, “Fucking show me that pussy, baby girl.”