Pouting, she pushes herself up. I can see that stubborn determination awakening inside her, sending her sauntering over to the stage. She pulls herself up; the spotlight following as men whistle and shift their attention to my prized possession. My jealousy is kicking in, demanding I fucking knock their teeth out for looking at her. But she needs this, so I’ll grit my teeth and humiliate her. One day, my angel will be so thankful I made her realize just how badly she needs me by degrading her in front of a room full of strangers.
I admire the outfit I picked out for Tallulah. A tight, velvet bodice clings to her torso, exposing the tops of her breasts pressed together almost painfully. She looks mouth-wateringly good, and I know once that dress comes off, I’ll like the view even more.
Slow, sensual music plays and the patrons cheer as Tallulah sways to the sound. Her hands seductively slip down her body, enticing me to keep watching. She slips out of the dress, and the velvet pools at her feet. She’s exposed in a lace bodysuit, the pattern of the fabric barely hiding her erect nipples. She seems shy, but her body sways with confidence even though her eyes avoid everyone in the room.
Finally, after an unbearable pause, she looks at me. As if she’s testing to see if I’m watching. And of course, I am. I couldn’t take my eyes off her if I fucking tried.
The waitress approaches with Tallulah’s drink, setting it down in front of me. “Is she your new little plaything?”
“She’s my bride,” I hiss, annoyed by her casual attitude. “Watch your tongue, Dulce.”
She mimics zipping her lips and sits down on my lap. My engorged cock doesn’t mind, but my eyes are fixed on Tallulah. Her mouth trembles when she sees Dulce clasp her arms around my neck. I can tell she fucking hates this.
She’s moving slower now, unsure of herself. Jealousy takes over as Dulce trails her fingers over my collar, whispering something I don’t even bother listening to in my ear. Tallulah’s hands tremble as they tweak her nipples into even harder points. I can feel Dulce watching her too, and she smirks, leaning in to lick my neck.
That sends Tallulah scrambling off the stage. Before I can fully push Dulce off, my little fury has reached out, hands outstretched, as she grabs the waitress’ hair. She drags her off me, screaming insults as she claws the girl.
In the background, a champagne bottle pops, transporting me to reality. Dulce just took something that Tallulah thinks is hers, and the bitch is about to pay in blood.
Chapter 10
TALLULAH
My fingernails dig so deep into the girl’s skin, I can feel blood pooling under them. A second later, someone yanks me off the girl while I’m still screaming bloody murder. I’m not even keeping up with the curse words and insults coming from my own lips. I want to hurt her, maim her. How dare she touch Xavier?
“Take your goddamn hands off her,” Xavier hisses. The hands leave my shoulders while the waitress whimpers on the ground. Xavier grunts with displeasure as several people join us, checking up on the girl. But I don’t feel an ounce of regret. She did this to herself by touching what was mine.
“You done with your show, you little brat?” Xavier hisses. “Come with me.”
Sheepishly, I follow him into a separated area of the club. People are watching me. I’ve overstepped and I know it. And yet a selfish, foolish part of me is endlessly hoping for Xavier’s attention, even if it means pain.
He opens the red velvet curtains, allowing me to enter a private dance room. A long table is in the middle with an installed stripper pole. A couch stretches along the walls, decadent in white leather. Xavier sits down and lights a cigar, watching me shiver under the lights and the booming sound of the music.
“I’m hoping you have an excuse lined up,” he growls at me, taking a long drag of the cigar. “Or are you always going to attack women who show me attention like that?”
“Yes,” I hiss. “I thought I’m supposed to be your fiancée.”
He smirks as if I’m amusing him. “Relax, angel. I haven’t even put a ring on your finger yet.”
I sulk quietly as he points to the table.
“Maybe you can try to make me forgive and forget by giving me a show.”
“Aren’t you going to apologize?” I hiss, crossing my arms. “That girl was all over you. Don’t you think you should show me some respect?”
“Respect?” Xavier repeats. He leaves the smoking cigar in an ashtray and slowly picks himself up, buttoning his designer suit. Blood pumps through my veins, threatening to knock me unconscious with fear. He comes closer, taking my face in his hands. “Don’t talk to me about respect, angel. Not until you’ve learned how to give me some. Do you know what day it is?”