Page 14 of King of Clubs
A small smile threatened to pierce my steely exterior when I thought about our two interactions to date. One resulting in a fist to the stomach and the other ending with a drink on my shoes and a tumble which was surprisingly cute. Both I would usually find oddly irritating, yet there was something about the softness of those knowing eyes that told me there was more to her. And in the surprise of the century, she made me smile, on more than one occasion, something which most people struggled to do in their lifetime.
Shaking that peach like arse to the music had my dick twitching and I wondered if someone had ever evoked such a visceral reaction from me. She was wearing a pair of gold heels which only lengthened those lean legs, a strap wound up around her calves. Her dress enveloped her perfectly and her head was thrown back as she sang along with the music, laughing with Arna as they pointed at each other. I glanced towards the bar to check that nothing there required my attention, but no matter how hard I tried, I kept returning to the brunette beauty in purple.
“Marlee,” I enunciated to the empty room, feeling her name move around my mouth.
There was something there and I let my thoughts wander because I couldn't remember the last time anyone garnered my attention.
I wondered why she’d been staying with Andy and why he seemed evasive when any of the boys asked about his new house guest. After meeting her, it made sense why he’d dodged hosting poker night for a while now – I wasn't sure anyone would be focusing on their hand with her around all the time.
Unless it was holding their dick.
Christ, I needed a release other than the gym and a jog along the beach with where my mind kept going.
Twirling my drink, the tinkering of ice against glass pierced the silence as I took another sip. It was smooth with the familiar subtle burn down my throat, the woodsy remnants settling on my palette. I’d have to let Coop know this was a good one.
I’d always enjoyed scotch but when he opened his distillery eighteen months ago it reinforced the dream to open my whiskey bar. He’d been my mate for as long as I could remember and was there when the days were long and the nights cold. One who I trusted without question, and I was proud of him and his achievements despite growing up with the boundaries his dad placed on him. From as young as I could remember he was destined to work for his father. His own interests and skills be damned. And like any young man who felt pressured, he rebelled, doing anything and everything he could to not only piss off his father, but garner some kind of attention.
It was something we had in common.
My dad had left me too. He was alive somewhere but absent all the same, probably wishing he didn’t have kids, lost in the dregs of a bottle.
Weak, undisciplined and capricious – all the things I despised.
I never could understand what kind of man would have children and then leave his wife to raise them alone. Leave them to grow up without a role model with no explanation.
But like Coop, it only reinforced I would never be like him. I would command nothing short of mastery in all aspects of my life, because it meant nothing took me by surprise and I didn’t let anyone down. Every act and consequence was intentional.
Thoughts of vanishing parents and resulting trauma were suddenly eviscerated when Wayne lunged towards the women, my first indication something was amiss.
They directed their attention beyond his shoulder to someone shoving their way through the crowd and for a second I lost sight of them. Wayne’s eyes darted in the direction of my office and I knew this was an unbidden signal that shit was about to go down.
Leaving my drink, I rushed for the door knowing there would be hell if Andrew Gloss’ most prized possession was caught up in whatever was brewing.
By the time I got down to the floor, Wayne was standing in front of Arna, one arm behind him gripping her wrist, in both a protective stance and to keep her at bay. I was relieved to see she appeared unhurt, however, the daggers shooting from her eyes could set a weaker man alight. Most of the patrons nearby thankfully hadn’t even noticed something was wrong and were still dancing to the Amy Winehouse track blaring through the system. But it wouldn’t take long and if people recognised the fiancé of Andy Gloss involved in the drama, my club would make the press for all the wrong reasons. Again.
A purple blur in my peripheral seized my attention, and I flicked my gaze to the left to see a man with his hands wrapped far too tight around the upper arms of a woman –Marlee.
I stilled, swiftly assessing the situation. Her stance was rigid, hands hanging limply by her side in surrender. Her lips were parted slightly, eyes fixed on Arna in a silent plea – for what I wasn’t sure. The man was unkempt and it was incalculable that he was even granted access given how slovenly he appeared. He was speaking to her, too quiet for me to hear exactly what he was saying, but he was anything but calm. His eyes darted between Marlee and Arna - who was turning all shades of red trying to unsuccessfully get around Wayne.
I didn’t know Marlee from Eve, but she was clearly uncomfortable with the arsehole who had the audacity to grab her inmyclub. As if hearing my thoughts, her gaze shot my way and the tears in her large green eyes flipped a switch within me. An unexpected fire shot through my chest, ears ringing as I took a step forward, stealthily flicking my head to Wayne signalling he remove Arna immediately.
The last thing I needed was Andy on my arse and if shit wasn’t sorted soon, that was a certainty. Moving to stand behind Marlee, I easily pried one of the slimy prick’s hands off her arm, replacing it with my own. He was shorter than me by a good few inches and I knew a weak piece of shit when I saw one.
He was desperate, likely intoxicated, and most notably he was hurting her.
“I’m going to ask you once and once only, take your hand off her and get out of my club.” I kept my words tight and to an outside observer, I appeared calm, my voice intentionally void of emotion, my face blank. I’d perfected the art of nonchalance but I also knew there was a fine line between faux composure and diabolical anger and if this jerk didn’t listen quickly, I would be dancing on that boundary with no thought to consequences.
I was aware of my security team, observing yet providing me the respect to manage the situation myself. In the four years I’d owned the club, I’d never involved myself in any altercations with patrons and my only justification now was to prevent an entire football team causing me a headache.
Although that was debatable.
The leggy brunette whose skin burned under my touch was unintentionally drawing me to her. Even if Wayne hadn’t called me down, I’m not sure I would have stayed away much longer.
I could see the irresolution emanating from the bastard who still had one hand on her, blood-shot eyes darting about. A trapped animal looking for a means of escape without losing his prey. He tightened his grip causing her to flinch, the first movement I’d seen from her since she looked in my direction, but otherwise she didn’t react. Didn’t demand he remove his grip. Didn’t offer any form of fight.
The realisation was sobering. She was resigned to this behaviour. Afraid yet resigned.
“You’re coming with me!” There was something about the way he dictated her next move that told me more than I wanted to know. It also reaffirmed that she was not going to be leaving with him under any circumstances.
