6. Claudia

Chapter 6

Claudia

I get to my feet, feeling wooden. Grace and Emma are both staring at me like I'm the luckiest girl in the world, but my guts feel like they're going to fall out of my body. This is bad—especially if he heard what I said.

He leads me into the hall. Once we're alone, I stop walking and hold up my hands. "Look, about yesterday?—"

He cocks his head, his smile gone. "The part where you insulted me, or the part where you looked like you wanted to murder Tommy?"

Oh, shit. My mouth drops open. I don't even know what to say. How the hell did he know what I was thinking? Tommy made his gross joke and I could tell he was just trying to flex his power for Angelo, but it made me absolutely sick, and I guess I couldn't hide it fast enough.

"I, uh, I mean, I don't want to?—"

But he's already shaking his head and walking away. "Come with me."

I don't have much of a choice. I follow Angelo to another lounge, this one set up with a huge game of Twister in the middle. Cushions line the walls alongside several tables with built-in drawers mostly filled with lube, condoms, and sex toys. If Angelo knows he brought me into one of our orgy game rooms, he doesn't seem to care, only turns on me with an unhappy stare.

"Rich and entitled?" he says.

And I could die. Right here, right now, on this sticky, cheap vinyl floor. "I'm so sorry. You weren't supposed to hear that."

"You don't even know me and you're already breaking my heart."

My face is burning red. "I shouldn't have said it."

"No, you shouldn't have." His eyes stare into mine—then he glances down at my body. And I swear, there's a hunger behind his eyes that lasts for a few seconds, before he pulls himself together again.

He likes looking at me. He really likes it.

The thought sends a pulse of excitement deep into my core.

"How about this. You answer some questions for me, and I pretend like you didn't insult me."

I chew on my lip and quickly nod. "Okay, deal, whatever you want to know. I mean, if I can answer, I totally will. It's just, I really can't lose this job."

His voice lowers. "How long has your sister been dating Tommy?"

I hesitate, surprised by this line. I figured he'd want details about the club, and I have no clue why he'd give a crap about Serena. "Around a year or so, I think."

"And before that? Who was Tommy with?"

"I don't know. I only came to work here after he got together with Serena."

He nods and puts his hands behind his back. "Which means you've been here for a year too?"

"Yeah, just about."

"And has Tommy always been a fucking creep to you?"

I grimace and look away. "I don't like talking about that."

"I bet you don't. Tommy thinks he's funny, but he's a sick fuck, and you're better off keeping your distance. You hear me?"

There's a strange, protective undertone to his voice that surprises me, and I look up to find him staring into my eyes. I hold that gaze, basking in its intensity, and give him a very small nod. "I try, but he doesn't make it easy."

"Try harder." His jaw works for a second and I swear he's pissed about Tommy flirting with me. Why would he even care? I was snarky to him, and then I insulted him behind his back, and now he's looking like he gives a shit if I get sexually harassed. That'd be the norm at a regular job, but this is Cage, and it's far from freaking average here.

Then he hits me rapid-fire. How many girls work on a normal night? How many bouncers? What's the security camera situation? I tell him as much as I can, but it feels strange. He's supposed to be the owner, but he doesn't seem to know anything about how Cage works.

Which leads us to the third floor.

"The girls up there wear red wristbands," I tell him and that doesn't get a reaction. "That means, you know—" I look away, embarrassed for some reason. "They're available. I mean, they're on the menu."

"Sex workers," he clarifies.

"Some of them are, but some of them are just normal women with a certain kink. We cater to everyone here, especially on the third floor. But you know, there are groups that come in and need a space, and the second floor—" I stare at the game of Twister.

He finally looks down. And smirks to himself. "I'm standing on a sex game right now, aren't I?"

"I thought you knew."

"Now I do," he says, more to himself, and his eyes suddenly drift to my wrist. I feel self-conscious as he stares and seems satisfied, nodding a little like he's happy that I'm not wearing red. He looks back up and steps forward. "I need you to do something for me, Claudia."

"I mean, uh, I don't?—"

"I feel like you owe me a little bit. Let's call it an apology." He's coming closer now. I'm extremely aware of my skimpy outfit, somehow even more revealing than the one from last night, and how enormous this man really is. He could grab me and hold me down, he could fuck me right here and there'd be nothing I could do to stop him, and a sick part of me wants him to do it. I want him to twist me up and hold me against the floor and fill me to the brim, take me nice and savage, fuck me into a puddle of pure ecstasy.

My cheeks turn bright red as I back away. "What do you need?" I whisper and I grimace at that word, need . His eyes brighten at my reaction like he knows what I'm thinking.

"Tommy keeps the club's financial records in his office. I can't get in there without him noticing, but I bet you can."

I go very still, not sure what to say. That's not what I was expecting at all. I half thought he was going to make some kind of sexual advance on me, or maybe he needed me to do some menial task for him, but to break into Tommy's office to grab some documents—that's an entirely new level.

"I'm sorry," I say, shaking my head. "I'm so sorry, but I can't. Don't you own this place?"

"He'll lie to me," he says, waving a dismissive hand. "I need you, Claudia. You hate him, don't you? What if I said this would hurt him?"

I hold up my palms. "I can't. I just can't."

"I can help you. I can pay you."

"It's not just about money. If I lose this job—" I stop there, unwilling to admit to him that I'm here for Serena above everything else. I don't want to give this man, this total stranger, that kind of power over me. Tommy has it and he doesn't even realize, but if I tell Angelo what this job really means then he might use that information against me.

He could blackmail me. He could force me to do things?—

I don't want to think about it.

"Think about it," he says and his voice is a low purr. "I'll give you ten grand if you pull this off. Ten thousand dollars in cash, and all you have to do is get me some financial documents for a club I already own. It wouldn't even be hard, and I swear, you won't get in trouble."

Oh, god. Ten thousand dollars. Not much for some people, life-changing for me. I picture myself moving into a safer neighborhood and a nicer apartment and never having to deal with Uncle Rodney again.

And I know it'll never happen.

"I'm sorry," I say, turning to the door.

But his voice makes me stop.

"Are you dancing again tonight?"

I freeze, my hand on the knob. I don't turn to look at him. I can't turn to look at him right now. My head's mushy and my knees are shaking. "Not unless Tommy makes me," I say as shame rushes through me. Why the hell do I care what this guy thinks of me? Angelo's a bastard and he can go screw himself.

"Well, I look forward to the next time you get up there."

His words strike me up and down my body like fingernails gently caressing my skin. I rip the door open and run away before I say something sarcastic and stupid and get myself fired for good.

But for the rest of the night I keep thinking: Angelo wants to watch me dance.