I nod, watching silently as he stalks out of the room. Connor’s gone when I emerge after fixing my dress and hair. Liam waits in the corridor, silently trailing me as I walk purposefully into the strippers’ dressing room.
It is a large, brightly lit room filled with beautiful women in various states of undress. They don’t seem bothered by Liam’s presence, though they look at me curiously.
“To what do we owe this honor,Mrs.Fitzpatrick?”
Tahlie’s voice is sarcastic, and I can feel her metaphorical claws raking down my face.
“Seamus wants Natalie and Imelda in the private bar to work the floor,” I say, loud enough for the room to hear me.
The two women in question quickly finish their makeup, slipping into lacy teddies and slipping out of the room.
“Is that all then?” Tahlie mocks. I have no idea what her problem is, but I nod, turning to go.
Her hand snakes out to grab my arm. When she speaks, it’s low enough so only I hear it, and I’m slightly taken aback by the level of venom in her tone.
“You know, eventually, Seamus will get sick of prim and proper, and he’s going to want what you can’t give him.”
I stare at her with impassive eyes, refusing to give her the satisfaction of knowing how her words affect me. How they reflect my own fears that I don’t even acknowledge to myself. How they make my gut curdle until I want to run to the bathroom and purge before curling up and crying.
I don’t do any of those things. I give Tahlie a tight smile, jerking my arm out of her grasp.
“You touch me again, and you’ll be sorry.” I smile sweetly at her. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, my husband is waiting for me to join the party.”
Her hand drops away as she glares at me with obvious hatred as I turn on my heel, walking away from her like I’m not the least bothered by her. She doesn’t like the reminder thatI’mhis wife and she’s nobody.
Liam’s eyes were glued to us through the exchange, but I ignore him, walking out of the dressing room and into the private bar.
Seamus is talking to a group of men in suits, but I bypass them, beelining straight to the bar and signal to Mellie. She looks at my face and shoves a glass of whiskey at me. I pound it back in one swallow, glaring at her as she smirks and tops it up. Leaning across the bar to me, Mellie raises one elegantly sculpted brow.
“Which stripper?”
That fucking obvious, huh?
“Tahlie,” I grit out.
She nods sympathetically. “I wouldn’t worry about it. Why would he want mincemeat when he has prime rib?”
I nod mechanically, sipping my whiskey slowly. I know Mellie means well, but if you eat prime rib multiple times every day, soon you get sick of it, and mincemeat has its own appeal.
Across the room, Seamus is gesturing for me to join him. Paddy appears next to me, snatching my whiskey away. He hands me a glass of red wine and a fresh glass of whiskey for Seamus.
Squaring my shoulders, attempting to shove Tahlie out of my mind, I stroll across the room, enjoying how Seamus watches me. When I reach his side, I hand him his fresh whiskey. His fingers brush mine as he takes the glass, and smirks down at me, my cheeks heating up under his gaze.
After introducing me to his companions, they all ignore me while Seamus plays with my hair. His fingers brush the back of my neck, and I stiffen. He freezes beside me, his eyes still on the man talking to him, tension in his jaw. Shit. I take a deep breath, willing myself to relax.
As soon as I do, the tension drains out of Seamus. His fingers abandon my hair and cup the nape of my neck, gently stroking until I’m almost squirming, heat pooling between my thighs. I’m trying to ignore the building need I’m feeling, but I can’t, and my breathing starts to hitch.
Seamus’s fingers disappear from the back of my neck. “If you’ll excuse us for a moment, gentlemen.”
He nods to them, his hand landing on the small of my back as he guides me out of the room, leaving our drinks on one of the tables we pass.
Seamus steers me through the doorway into the dressing room, which is closer than the door to the corridor leading to his office. Strippers look over at our entrance, and Tahlie is once again front and center, clad in nothing but a thong, thrusting her exposed tits at Seamus.
“Something we can help you with?” she purrs.
Seamus doesn’t even glance at her, walking me over to the back of the dressing room where there are small cubicles. They don’t have doors, but they do offer a modicum of privacy if one of the strippers doesn’t want to change in front of everyone.
Once I’m inside the small space, Seamus spins me, crowding my space, his lips brushing against my ear.