Sage’s hand feels so small in mine as we walk across the parking lot toward the club, her heels clicking on the pavement. I have a bit of déjà vu, remembering what it felt like pulling up to this place for the first time.
It still feels as strange and as foreign now as it did then, only this time, I’m not alone.
“We’re just going to go in and let him see us together, and then we’re leaving,” I say to comfort Sage. Her usual confident and headstrong demeanor is changing with every step closer to the building. It’s like she’s shrinking before my very eyes.
The girl at the hostess stand waves her right through without making either of us pay or check in our phones like she did to me on the first night. So either this girl is her friend, or word doesn’t travel very fast in sex clubs.
As soon as we enter the main room of the club, we both pause near the outskirts of the dense crowd and look around for a familiar douchebag with blond hair. When there’s no sign of him and we start growing uncomfortable, I tug her toward the bar.
I have to squeeze through bodies just to get close enough to get the busy bartender’s attention.
A strange tingle travels up my spine while I wait for our drinks, and it’s the indistinguishable feeling of being watched. Subtly I glance around the room, looking for a camera or a pair of watching eyes, and what I find is far more than a pair. Damn near every set of eyes in this place is either glancing at Sage and me or rudely gawking at us.
Sage must feel it too, because she squeezes my hand.
“What is going on?” she whispers.
Just as I turn to answer her and suggest we get the fuck out of here, a girl from across the bar leans forward on the surface and points directly at us. “Oh my god, it’s you!”
Jesus Christ.
Now, literally everyone is looking at us, some with confusion and some with recognition. So she continues hollering through the noisy club.
“You’re that hot couple from FanVids!”
A collective gasp of awe fills the room as throngs of people turn toward us. Sage and I are suddenly bombarded with requests for photos and autographs, which we both do our best to politely decline. I don’t like the way the men are looking at her, hovering too close, so I put her body between mine and the bar.
Someone hands us drinks, and when I notice Sage lifting the straw to her lips, I nearly smack it out of her hands.
“Don’t drink that.” I tear it away and set it on the bar, giving her a stern glare.
When I hear more than one person asking to watch us, I lose my patience. I grab her hand, ready to make our way out of the club. But just then, a woman with wavy red hair and a face full of makeup steps up close to us and calmly directs us to follow her, and for some reason, I listen.
I let the beautiful girl pull us out of the crowd, across the dance floor and straight into the same VIP room where my father and his goons beat the ever-loving shit out of me two months ago.
As soon as the sign on the door comes into view, my heels dig into the tiles and I stop the woman from pulling us in there. She turns back toward me with sympathy on her face. “Relax,” she says with a smile, “your dad’s not here tonight.”
My body relaxes as I let her drag me the rest of the way. As we enter the VIP room, I notice that it’s far calmer in here than the last time I came barreling through these doors. I keep my eyes forward as I follow the redhead to the bar.
I glance back at Sage, who gives me a quick shrug, which I take to mean she doesn’t know this woman. There’s no sign of Brett either, which grates on my nerves. We’re here to ruffle his feathers and he’s not here to let us do that, so the only one with ruffled feathers is me.
“I bet you two didn’t expect that,” the girl says with a smile. She’s a bit taller than Sage, with round curves and her cleavage spilling from her thin dress. As her eyes travel the length of my body, down and then up, I pull Peaches even closer to my side.
“We didn’t,” I reply flatly.
“Who are you?” Sage asks.
“I’m Sadie,” she says, putting a hand out toward each of us. “I just started working here in April.”
Sage’s expression changes in the blink of an eye. Curiosity morphs into resentment as she stares intensely at Sadie. Has Sage spoken about this woman and I wasn’t listening? Am I missing something?
“You’re the one he hired,” Sage mutters.
Sadie doesn’t seem fazed by the change in temperament. In fact, she looks pleased with it.
“Don’t worry,” she says to the girl at my side. “I know who you are too. Wanna get a drink?”
“Please,” I interject. Sage nods and the three of us make our way to the tall booth in the corner, not the one I caught my father at.
With our beverages in hand, Sadie tells us everything, essentially catching me up to speed. And I see the hurt in Sage’s eyes as she replays the entire thing—Brett casting her aside, dismissing her ideas and hard work, hiring someone else before giving his own girlfriend the credit she deserved. It makes me hate him even more.
Then she looks at me. “And I know all about your father too. He hasn’t come back in since you started filming those videos. Brett’s been scarce too. Something about you two together really freaked them both out.”
“Why?” Sage asks, leaning forward.
“Because it’s unhinged,” Sadie says with a laugh. “Those videos are the last thing they expected out of Mr. Inspiration over here. Everybody fucking loves you guys. And that freaks them out because you hold all their secrets. They’re not the kings of their domain anymore.”
“Don’t you…like working with Brett?” Sage asks with resounding unease.
“Fuck no,” Sadie snaps in reply. “I’ve seen great clubs and I’ve seen sleazy clubs. When I came here, I could tell it had a woman’s touch, but that’s not what he wanted from me. Once my contract is up, I’m out of here.”
“So, I take it Brett’s not here,” Sage replies.
“Oh, he’s here.” Sadie’s gaze travels upward to the second-floor balcony covered by mirrors. “He’s just too chickenshit to show his face.”
I let out a grumble of annoyance. “Well, coming here was a waste.”
“Was it?” Sadie asks, peering at me with curiosity. “You’re at a sex club and you have an eager audience. I think if you want to make a real scene, you know exactly how to do it.”
I feel Sage’s eyes travel to my face and I only glance down at her for a moment, alarm written on her features. But I’m not entirely sure what I’m feeling, so I quickly look away.
For one, there’s no way Sage and I can fake live sex. There are too many people around who would see that certain things aren’t going where they’re supposed to.
But I can’t hide the part of me that hopes what we do isn’t really fake. The thought of taking Sage to one of these rooms and having my way with her, audience or not, makes my dick nearly jump through my pants. It’s already uncomfortably hard behind my zipper.
And I know without a doubt in my mind that I’m not fucking Sage in this club tonight. Even if she tells me to. Even if she fucking begs me to, how could I trust that she truly wants it and isn’t just feeling the pressure?
While I’m sitting here having my existential crisis, Sadie leans over to Sage and whispers something in her ear. It takes everything in me to keep from yanking my date away, afraid of what ideas Sadie might be planting in her head.
Then Sadie waves at me and struts away from the table. Sage and I are left alone, still with a few lingering eyes from around the VIP area on us.
“What did she say?” I ask, curiosity burning.
Her lips purse together uncomfortably. “She told me to take you to the playrooms.”
“Why don’t we just leave?” I reply without asking anything further.
“Do you want to leave?” she asks, leaning close to me and gazing up into my eyes with something like hope and fear.
No, Sage. I want to fuck your brains out in every stupid room of this place until it’s covered in us, and then I want to burn it to the fucking ground.
But I don’t say that. Which is good because I really shouldn’t, but I can’t bring myself to lie and say I really do want to leave. And my dick is doing most of the thinking at this point. It’s that little silver dress she has on and the way her lips look so fucking kissable with that dark stain.
Being around Sage makes me feel so goddamn vulnerable. And I can’t explain why. So I can’t come out with it and admit all the filthy things I want with her in this place right now.
But I can follow her lead.
“Take me to the playrooms,” I whisper, leaning in and pressing my lips to her ear.
I feel her tremble.
“Are you sure?” she replies softly. “It’s all in the open back there. There won’t be any faking it.”
“We won’t be fucking,” I say, noticing how the edges of her mouth drop a little at that admission. So I rest a hand on the small of her back and pull her closer as I continue, “But if he can’t see you, then let’s make sure he hears you.”
Her weight gives in to my touch a little as she nearly falls into my body.
And I take that as a yes.
