Not about the future or how important it is to get this club back into the black, and that’sallthat should be on my mind when I see Scarlett Priest. But now when I think about her, it’s got nothing to do with business and everything to do with the way she smiles when she lets go of her inhibitions and loses herself in the moment.
It was the purest thing I’ve seen in ... I can’t even remember how long. Which means I have absolutely no business going near her. She’s so far beyond my reach that I shouldn’t even dare to speak to her.
Tell that to my dick.
After all, her ass was just pressing against it, making me wish I could show her that her asshole of an ex was so fucking wrong.
She’s not a prude. She just picked the wrong fucking guy.
And you’re the right one?Another taunt from my conscience that I know the answer to.
No, I’m not the right guy. There probably isn’t a man on this planet who actually deserves a woman like her.
“What the fuck was that, man?” Q asks as I slip behind him into the silent corridor that leads to my office.
I ignore it and respond with my own question. “Did you pull me off the floor just to ask me that?”
Q knows the answer better be fuckingno, because I don’t need him to try to save me from myself. He knows that’s a lost cause.
“Just got word that the boyfriend came back. He’s causing trouble out front.”
I tug down the cuffs of my shirt and straighten the skull cuff links holding them together. “Is that right?” I keep my voice even, but inside, anticipation for the coming confrontation rises.
I wanted a shot at that prick, and I’m about to get it.
Q shrugs. “I figured you’d want to handle it yourself.”
“You were right.” I give him a nod, and we head for the club’s entrance.
When we step outside, I notice two things. First, there’s a chill in the air that I didn’t expect for late August. Second,we have a fucking line. The velvet ropes that have stood empty for weeks are finally full of people dying to get inside.
Fuck. Yes.
A punch of relief fires through me because this isexactlywhat we need. People waiting outside for their chance to experience Legend. And it’s all happening because of Scarlett, the knockout who dumped the douchebag raging at one of our bouncers, Peter.
“My girlfriend is in there and we have unfinished business. Do you even know who I am?”
Peter stands like a gargoyle, massive and unmoving, as he stares down the nutless asshole who is trying to shame him into not doing his job.
“I’ll take it from here, Peter.”
As soon as LaSalle sees me, his face contorts with rage. “You motherfucker. You’re trying to steal my girl?”
Q and Peter stand behind me, blocking the people in line from seeing what’s happening.
Stepping closer, I reach out like I’m going to clap him on the shoulder, but instead, my hand lands just beside his collarbone. My thumb rests right at the side of his neck, and my fingers wrap around the base of his throat. All it takes is a minuscule amount of pressure before his eyes widen with fear at the pain he feels.
“Listen up, Chadwick. I’ll only say this once.” I keep my voice low and my tone civil. “You don’t have a girl in my club. You have an ex who doesn’t want to see you. Doesn’t want to hear from you. Doesn’t want to know that you exist anymore. Understand me?”
“You can’t—” He tries to speak, but I cut him off by pressing my thumb harder against his throat.
“Ican. I’ll do whatever the fuck I damn well please. I’m not afraid of you, your money, or your privilege. You see, kid, when a woman says you’re over, you leave her the fuck alone. Do you understand that?”
He jerks, trying to get away, but I’m not about to let him go yet. His shoulders hunch forward with defeat.
“Leave Scarlett Priest alone, or I swear, you’ll regret it.”
I release my grip and Chadwick stumbles back a few steps, his hand clutching the base of his throat where he’s going to have a hell of a sore spot for days.