She turns, straddling him with her back to his face, and drops to squat over his chest. Peering between his bent knees, she drags a long look to the audience. “It looks like Shawnareally likesbeing humiliated in front of all of you.”
A few chuckles ripple through the groups of people sitting on the various sofas and chairs. Pearl and Piper are snickering while Pearl is snuggled up on Piper’s lap. I’m obviously way out of my element right now and not sure if I should laugh, even though that’s clearly the point. I’m too hungry and buzzed, and—not to mention—totally distracted by Lucky and Patrick.
I don’t understand their relationship. It’s been nothing but a pissing contest every time I’ve seen them together, and Lucky always has the upper hand. But there they are, seated in the matching leather, Chesterfield style chairs right next to each other, while they converse and chuckle intermittently.
At the front of the room, the trombone wails again while the woman steps off of Shawna and saunters to a large chest at one side of the room. She makes a dramatic show of throwing open the lid and digging through all manner of kinky sex toys, tossing some to the side, until she pulls something out. Lucky is leaning toward Patrick, his smoldering cigar poised between his fingers while he rests his wrist on his knee. Lucky’s saying something that causes Patrick to cut his eyes toward me, and I’m too tipsy to drag my gaze away from them quickly enough. Lucky speaks for another few seconds while Patrick continues to look at me, and then I manage to look away.
Sipping my drink—I’m not even sure what the cocktail is—I look back at Shawna and the woman in control of him. She’s now ordered him to his knees and is fastening some kind of strappy item around her hips while her back is to the audience. When she turns around, a thick, long, electric blue dildo is affixed at her groin, and she smacks the crop against the side of her thigh-high boot.
“Shawna reallylovesto suck cock,” she announces, grabbing the base of the dildo to swing it in a lazy circle as she saunters to stand behind Shawna. She makes quick work of binding his wrists behind his back and then blindfolds him. “Who wants to see Shawna suck my big, blue cock?”
My eyebrows lift on their own accord, and I am clearly a verysheltered person. Someone whistles from across the room. A few other people laugh and applaud. Nobody else in the room seems to be fazed by any of it at all, some of them chuckling lightly while others casually sip drinks and converse. I’ll admit the scandalous sight of this spectacletaking place right in front of me is a little bit of a turn-on, but now Patrick is standing up to approach me. And the sight of thatputs me immediately on edge.
He’s coming over here after Lucky’s obviously been talking to him about me, and I am one hundred percent sure I’m being set up in some way. I eye Patrick warily as he sits down on the sofa next to me. And I stiffen when he wraps his arm around my shoulders.
He leans toward my ear. “Are you all right?”
I keep my eyes trained forward. The woman does a flawless pirouette in her spike heels and then stands akimbo in front of Shawna, swaying her hips so that the dildo pats his chubby cheek.
“Did he tell you to come over here?” I clip.
“He said I could come over here if I wanted to.” The weight of Patrick’s eyes is heavy on me. “And I wanted to.”
The woman grabs a fistful of Shawna’s close-cropped hair and forces him to deep-throat the blue dildo. I whip my head around to glare at Patrick. “Is he part of the mafia or something? Are all of you mobsters? Is that why he’s got you by the balls as much as that woman has Shawnaby the balls?”
A half smile tugs Patrick’s lips, pulling a dimple deep into one clean-shaven cheek, and his green eyes sparkle with mirth. “You think we’re mobsters?”
“Well?” I shrug aggressively. “I don’t know why else a grown man would let another man order him around like Lucky does with you unless there’s some kind of hierarchy. As in, one enforced by the threat of violence.” I take a long sip of my drink and look at Shawna while he blows the dildo. “It would also make sense given how Lucky De Lucaseems to be very intentionally channeling Lucky Luciano with every aspect of his entire persona.” I cut a quick glance at Lucky, who’s slowly puffing on the cigar while staring at Patrick and me. “He also said something about getting shot.”
Patrick wraps his arm tighter around my shoulders, and I don’t bother putting up a fight. “We’re not mobsters. Lucky’s just got an ugly history that made him hard. And there’s a pecking order around here. He calls the shots because he pays the bills and he’s the visionary for all this. It’s not a big deal.”
“It’s not a big deal that you’re not even allowed to talk to me without his permission?” I hiss, narrowing my eyes at him. “That doesn’t bother you?”
“It does,” he says simply. “I don’t know what I can really do about it though.”
“You could do what you want.” I lean forward to set my glass on the low coffee table in front of us and then shift to face him. “What do you want, Patrick?”
He pulls his lips between his teeth for a second while he studies my face. “I want you, but I want to have met you somewhere else. Under different circumstances. Circumstances where I could take you out properly and get to know you.” He lifts one shoulder. “Circumstances that don’t exist.”
It’s not that I don’t believe him. It’s just that, after realizing how fake and conniving Lucky is, all of this seems like one big trick.
“Why,” I state bluntly.
“I wanted you the second I saw you.” He reaches to stroke my cheek with his thumb. “You’re beautiful in this uncommon, girl-next-door kind of way. You’re sweet. You’re cute. You’re like…a normal, nice girl. I think I could make you happy.” He half-smiles again. “And the face you made when your suitcase fell down the steps was priceless.”
If any of this were normal, his words would cause my cheeks to warm and my heart to soften with hope and affection. After all, what girl wouldn’t want to hear a handsome man say things like that to her? But because everything happened the way it did, it all just feels sordid; like Patrick’s interaction with me right now is a mere extension of the spectacle of scandal at the front of the room.
“So, what do you want from me, Patrick?” My tone isn’t any less blunt.
“I want to kiss you again.”
I flutter my eyelashes in annoyance. “Well, go ahead then. It sounds like Lucky gave youpermission.”
“Yeah, he did give me permission,” Patrick underscores in an easy tone, but he doesn’t make a move to that end. He just looks at me, still stroking my cheek.
“But you’re not going to.”
He half-shrugs again. “I don’t want to cross any lines you’re no longer comfortable with.”
