Filthy Vegas Nights (The Trifecta 3)

I push Eddie’s arm off me, turning my back toward the stage. Damien’s mood swing just now has me even more confused. I mean it seems like he was jealous of Eddie, yet he hasn’t said a word to me since I threw his hand off my thigh in the restaurant. The song finally comes to an end and the crowd surges to the bar to get a drink to help with their scratchy throats they have from screaming. With the bar being swamped, I’m able to push Damien to the back of my mind. Well ok, maybe just to the middle of it.

After pouring and mixing, the crowd lightens up, and rushes back to the stage for more man-meat to scream at.

The other dancers grace the stage, but I barely even look as I clean up the bar, knowing the night will be ending soon.

I haven’t seen Damien all night, which doesn’t bother me. Right? I’m not bothered.

The final dance ends, and women leave the club in waves. I restock the bar, wanting to get out of here before I have to see Damien.

“Good job tonight,” I say to Eddie as I hit print on the report for my drawer.

Before it’s even done printing, Eddie throws his arm over my shoulder and smacks a loud kiss on my cheek. I roll my eyes and bump him off with my hip. Without looking, I know Damien’s watching. I can feel his closeness. His energy has a certain frequency my body picks up on immediately. It’s the reason I decided to lose my head that night and seduced him in the back of his car. Before Eddie moves away he leans into my ear, “Just thought I’d help you out with the boss. It doesn’t hurt to have a little push from a friend.”

“You’re an idiot,” I whisper back.

“How was your date the other night?” Damien growls, sitting down on the stool in front of us. He stares at Eddie.

“It was ok. Although, I kind of have the hots for someone else.” Eddie winks at me again before walking around the bar. “See you later, boss man. Call me if you need anything, Shayne. You’ve got my number.”

We’re both silent as we watch Eddie leave. Damien’s eyes stay glued to Eddie until long after the door closes. I fidget as he sits in silence, still staring at the closed door. “Eddie’s a player. You should stay away from him.”

Before I can answer, he abandons his stool and marches toward the door without another word. I stay where I am, frozen by the sheer power he exudes just in the way he walks. Damien flips the lock on the door, securing it with a bar before stalking back toward me.

“Whiskey.” It takes me a moment to understand he’s ordering a whiskey.

“Sorry. The bar’s closed.”

Damien bangs his fist on the bar. “I’ll get the whiskey myself.”

I scramble to grab a glass to pour his whiskey, not wanting him back behind the bar with me. We’re alone with all the doors locked, and having him closer isn’t a good idea. I’m proud my hand is steady when I pour his drink

“I’ve got it.” I hand him his drink, but he doesn’t take it. I watch him, waiting to see what he’ll do next.

“Have a drink with me,” it’s not a demand, but more of a desperate plea tumbling from his perfect lips.

Not bothering to get another bottle down I pour myself a glass of his whiskey. When he still doesn’t make a move, I clink my glass to his and take a sip. Damien takes a deep drink when I remove the glass from my lips.

He doesn’t move a muscle. He just stares at me with this look of intensity, making my nipples harden under my shirt.

“Are you fucking Eddie?”

I choke on the small sip I’d just swallowed.

Damien grabs his drink and sips it quietly while staring at me over the rim of the glass.

“Excuse me?” my voice squeaks out as I get my breath back.

“I asked you if you’re fucking Eddie?”

“Oh, my god. I know what you asked. I was giving you the option to pretend you didn’t ask me that. To change your question to something more appropriate.”

“I know you like to fool around.”

I slam my drink on the bar. “Excuse me.” If he only knew how little I actually ever fool around.

He continues to drink, not bothering to answer me.

“Listen, what happened between us that night.” I clear my throat.

“What night are you talking about?”

I’m sure my face could be seen from space as red as it feels. “The night in the back seat of your Rover.”

“Oh, that night.”

“You’re an asshole.” I swallow the rest of my drink, turning around to rinse it out so I can leave.

“You never answered my question. How many pants do you have hostage at your place? And are any of them Eddie’s?”