Chapter One: Carlos
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I sigh and rub my forehead, the thumping bass of the music aggravating the headache I’ve been fighting all day.
I should be ecstatic. A week from now I’ll be marrying an honest-to-god mafia princess and solidifying the family connections.
But instead my nerves are shot. I’ve barely even seen the girl since her father has her under guard all the time.
And as if my personal problems aren’t bad enough, my assistant manager hired a girl without my approval. All the girls here have been vetted by me personally. He knows fucking better. I only hire the best. And her application is a red flag. She has no experience dancing at all.
I know damn well the fucker only hired her because he wants to sleep with her. Which isn’t gonna happen. Although some of the girls do make money on the side with some of the customers it’s actually understood that that does not happen with staff. Nobody creeps my girls. So if I have to fire him? Oh fucking well. It’s our policy and he damn well knows it.
But that leaves the girl. It’s not her fault. But I still need dancers with experience. So unless she’s a closet stripper…she’s gonna have to find a different place to test out the waters. My business is not a playpen for babies.
I check the schedule and take a sip of top-shelf whiskey that’s kept just for me. The liquor burns its way down to my belly, easing some of my pain.
I see one of the bouncers at the door pointing at my corner booth and a tall woman nods her head. I narrow my eyes. I can’t see what she looks like but I don’t think I know her. This might be my new dancer. She’s bundled up so much that I can’t even tell if she has a body.
Ugh! What the hell! This is going to be an awkward conversation. I can feel it.
The lights in the club dim for one of the dancers onstage who likes to use black light and white costumes for her act. The thrumming music matches her soft, sexy vibe as she struts around the stage and I smile when the guys around the stage start whistling and catcalling for Yvette. She’s one of my most popular dancers. She’s a bitch but the guys like her and that’s all that matters to me.
“Uh-umm.” I hear a throat clear and look up, irritated. Only to feel the world shift under me like the axis just moved. My mouth drops open and I can’t quit staring, my eyes drifting down her luscious body, unable to look away.
Fuck, she’s a damn knock-out! Long caramel curls shimmering all the way down her back. Her wide eyes so full of innocence that it’s almost impossible to believe she’s standing in the middle of a strip club. She bites her lip and I barely contain the groan that’s trying to escape. I want to nibble on those soft, full coral lips. I want to feel them wrap around my dick and her cheeks hollow out as she sucks me dry.
And the rest of her? Smoking hot. Tall, lightly tanned and stacked on top and bottom. She’s got a rack that’s begging me to bury my dick in her for the next forty years or so while I suck and lick them until she’s writhing on me and losing her mind.
I suck in a startled breath and lean back in the booth. She holds out a tiny hand and smiles. “Hi, I’m Aspen Montgomery. I’m supposed to be starting tonight.”
“Oh hell no,” I mutter under my breath. That’s not fucking happening. I can already see the men around me shooting her interested looks. If I let her up on that stage, some man is gonna snap her up.
And it can’t be me. Because I’m already taken. Technically.
But my body is insisting that this woman is mine. Hunger fires up inside me and my dick aches from how tight my pants have gotten.
I shoot a look around us and realize that people are watching her. And I don’t want them thinking they have that right. No one does. Just me.
I stand and grab her arm, jerking her behind me and pulling her back to the hallway that leads to my office.
“Hey! What the hell!” she grumbles and jerks at her arm like she’s got a prayer of getting away from me.
Not. Fucking. Happening.
I trap her against the door to my office while I unlock it, unwilling to let her get even an inch away from me.
“Oof!” she grunts and tries to push away from the door and me.
I grab her around the waist and toss her inside the room. She spins and then her long hair whips into her face, knocking her off-balance.
“Whoa!” I grab her and tug her into me, hissing out a breath when my body immediately goes into orbit. My pulse speeds up and tunnel vision hits me. All I can see is her. All I can feel is her. All I want to taste and touch for the next fifty years is her.
I drag her hair off her face and then yank her mouth up to mine, slipping my hands under her thighs and pulling her up my body until you can’t even get a piece of paper in between us. I have seconds to see her wide golden-hazel eyes before I kiss her.
Her muffled protest changes to a soft sigh and moans that make my cock ache to bury it in her.
Seconds or maybe minutes pass but I can’t make myself stop kissing her. Her sweet lips taste like peppermint and chocolate and she molds herself to me. I slip one hand into her hair and turn her head slightly so I can take her deeper, my tongue buried to the root between her lips, my breath mingling with hers in a heated rush that barrels through me.
Until she yanks herself free from me and shoves hard at my chest.
“Stop! What the hell are you doing? I don’t even know your name!”
“It’s Carlos. Carlos Antonello. I’m the boss. And I’m yours. That’s all you need to know.”
She huffs and backs away, a rebellious look on her sweet face that makes me want to smack her wide ass. She’s about to smart off and it’s gonna have me ready to nut in my damn pants.
“You’re not mine and I’m not yours, mister. I have no idea who the hell you are but I know that I don’t belong to anyone. So you can just shove that shit.”
My lips part on a smirk that bleeds into a cocky sneer. “Take it or leave it, baby. There’s nothing here for you that isn’t me.”
“Leave it,” she snarls and starts to leave, stomping her little feet on the way out.
I laugh and then cross my arms across my chest. She tugs and pulls at the door. She gets so into it that she ends up knocking herself on her ass.
I lean over and hold a hand out to her. She glares up at me with those kaleidoscope eyes that shift like mood rings. Right now they’re flaring gold with fire.
She swats my hand and shoves her disheveled caramel curls out of her face. “I don’t need your help. I certainly don’t want it.”
I shrug and stand back, letting her stand on her own two feet. Just a small retreat for me. I’m not going far.
“Why do you want to be a stripper?” I ask her, feeling the words leave my mouth with a bad taste. I don’t want that word even associated with her. She’s too sweet, too pure and too damn mine to be on that stage.
“One of the girls was talking in the store that I worked at and she was telling someone else that she made at least a couple thousand a night. I could really use the extra cash. I’m working my way through college. I’m in my last year but I really need money right now so I don’t get any more in debt than I already am.”