Authors: Tina Donahue
“I didn’t say anything to her,” Connor insisted. “You have
to believe me. Admittedly, I’ve been acting like a jerk, but I wouldn’t have
gotten in her face and said anything really cruel.”
“Just moderately cruel?” Mitch snapped.
Connor sighed. “Think whatever you want, but I did not—”
“She said her eyes were tearing because she got something in
them.” He ran his hand down his face. “I lied and told her you’d be up in a
little while, that you were dealing with some shit from the crew. She begged me
to make love with her.” He paused, his expression changing from pissed to
troubled.
“And you didn’t?” Connor asked.
“Are you nuts? Of course I did.” He resumed pacing. “I tried
not to notice it at the time, but she kept looking and talking like she wasn’t
going to be seeing me after this week—what?” he interrupted himself and
listened to the person on the other end of the call. Mitch’s shoulders slumped.
“I see. Thanks.”
“Don’t tell me she never showed up at the airport,” Connor
said. She couldn’t have gotten lost or been in an accident. Hell, his stupidity
and pride couldn’t have caused that. “We’ll get dressed and look for—”
Mitch interrupted, “She’s already gone, Connor. She left on
a flight before any of us were awake. Apparently, she took off right after I
fell asleep.”
“Then she’s back in Atlanta, at her place. Shoshana’s
probably headed to her place right now…she’ll tell Nikki to wait for you.”
“Me?” Mitch growled. “You read her note. You know she won’t
accept either of us without the other. She doesn’t want to tear us apart. You
do understand that, don’t you?”
Connor’s phone rang, not giving him a chance to answer. The
call was from Felipe, asking about props he’d left in the mansion. Connor
promised to bring them with him when he left. Next, Alex called to remind him
about other stuff for the film.
The moment they ended their call, the phone rang again. This
time, it was Shoshana. Connor handed the phone to Mitch.
He listened, then sighed. “Keep knocking, please. Nikki will
have to come to the door eventually.”
Ten minutes later, she hadn’t.
Later that day, Connor learned that Nikki had told her
apartment’s management she was moving out. She shut off her cell phone service
next.
Within a week, it was as if she’d never been back to
Atlanta. Her parents didn’t know where she’d gone. Her mother said she hoped it
was back to New York to be closer to Ty.
It wasn’t.
Nikki had removed herself from his and Mitch’s lives
completely, just as Connor had wanted. Only her note remained, along with their
graduation photo. The following week, a payment in cash arrived at their
office. There was no return address or postmark. Nikki had used one of the
prepaid envelopes from Wicked that mass marketed their Masters Club to
potential clients. Upon hire, all the club’s staff got a stack of the envelopes
and letters of invitation. They were encouraged to distribute them to every guy
they came into contact with.
Mitch kept the envelope and cash on his desk as if having
them close might allow him to conjure her back.
Every time Connor saw them, Mitch’s earlier accusation rang
in his mind.
Happy?
He wanted to make this right but didn’t know how.
You read her note,
Mitch had said.
You know she
won’t accept either of us without the other.
If they could find her. Even if they did, Connor figured
he’d treated Nikki too badly for her to ever want or trust him again. He’d
never stopped loving her and showed it by treating her like shit. She deserved
better in the future. All he had left now was to turn this around for his
brother.
Dense cigar smoke blanketed the room, the bluish-white vapor
hovering over the patrons’ heads. More than a few of the men coughed at the
acrid stench, the noise they made drowned out by the thundering bass of an
obscure Goth band. The dark music matched the club’s domination-and-punishment
milieu, with a touch of vampire thrown in.
All the female servers wore black Cleopatra-type wigs,
blood-red lipstick and white makeup on their faces and bodies…at least the
parts that were exposed.
Tonight, Nikki had donned no more than a leather waist
cincher, what she’d learned garnered the most tips. Even full nudity hadn’t
been able to compete with the brutal garment wrapped tight about her body. For
added allure, she’d attached small gold clips to her rouged nipples. A chain
hung between them. The jewelry swayed into her chest with each step, a reminder
to the men of her servitude.
She negotiated a path through tonight’s patrons, making
certain not to brush against any of them. Early on, she realized management
wouldn’t protect her here as she’d expected at Wicked. That was a class act,
despite what the elite of Atlanta might have thought. This was a
not-so-gentlemanly club where the guests were always right, no matter how gross
they acted. In fact, the elderly man who owned the club encouraged it.
“You make them happy,” he’d said, wagging his gnarled finger
at her. “We don’t want no bitchy females here, you understand? You don’t wait
for the men to smile at you, you smile at them first. They want a kiss or a
grope, you give it to them. Hell, it’s not sex, you know? It’s just being
sociable and encourages them to drink more and come back. You please them,
you’ll get great tips.”
Not great, but good enough for Nikki to help her folks,
survive on her own and pay Mitch back.
Her step faltered with the searing ache in her chest.
Nearly three months had passed since she’d last seen him and
Connor. That weekend on Sea Island seemed to have happened to someone else, not
her. At dawn, when she was finally away from here, when she couldn’t run away
from the past any longer, the images returned, bathed in bright light like a
vision of something miraculous and unearthly. She saw herself, Connor and Mitch
sprawled on the shower floor, their laughter and contented sighs chasing away
the clouds of steam.
She felt their big bodies snuggled against hers, muscular
and protective.
After she left, she’d cried for weeks, but didn’t budge in
her resolve. They’d always been better off without her. Their happiness was all
that mattered. Her future, wherever it ended, could wait. For now, she had a
job to do.
A guy on the right grabbed her arm, stopping Nikki from
reaching her table. Her middle-aged customer didn’t notice. He was swapping
tongues with one of the other servers, a gorgeous Hispanic girl whose rich skin
managed to glow beneath the pasty makeup.
“That martini for me?” this guy asked, his thumb stroking
her elbow.
Nikki recalled Mitch and Connor doing the same, their touch
commanding yet welcomed. She remembered the trail of wet kisses they’d left on
her body, Connor’s mustache and beard rasping her skin, Mitch’s stubble doing
the same. She smiled at the memory.
This guy leaned closer. “You like that, huh?”
The excitement in his voice snapped Nikki back to the
present. She managed a smile. “Sorry, sir, but no, this drink isn’t for you.
However, I’ll get you one in just a bit.”
“I want it now.” His grip tightened. He tugged her so close,
Nikki’s knee hit the side of his thigh. Not a bad one. He was probably in his
early thirties, good-looking and well built, his threads expensive, his attitude
as arrogant as Ty’s during his brief tenure at the top. This man’s mop of
sun-streaked brown hair and deep tan further reminded Nikki of her ex.
May
he rot in hell.
“Sir,” she cooed, pouring on the fake charm while trying to
reason. “I really have to go.”
“Sit on my lap first. No one will care, least of all me.”
Nikki bit her lip to keep from telling him that she minded.
Even if she’d been desperate for a man, he’d never be at the top of her list.
“Sorry, but I have a drink to deliver.”
“It can wait.” Releasing her arm, he wrapped his around her
waist, his fingers stroking her mound with a presumption that told her he’d
soon be heading for her cleft.
No amount of imagination would have made Nikki enjoy him
touching her there. Acting on pure instinct, she pushed the heel of her hand
against his arm.
He continued to hold tight, as one would with a possession.
“Maybe you didn’t hear me. I said it can wait.”
“And I said, I didn’t think so.”
At her fuck-you tone, he blinked then flashed his teeth,
whitened to unnatural brilliance. “You know, I could get you fired for being so
snotty.”
He was actually threatening her? The bastard. The old Nikki
would have flattened him with her tray, then filed a civil suit against him for
assault. The woman she was now knew that wasn’t prudent. Not if she wanted to
keep working. “Look, I’m sorry, all right? Please understand, if I don’t
deliver this drink, that guy over there will get me fired.”
“He’s busy with another babe. You should take lessons from
her on how to treat a man.”
Heat warmed Nikki’s face, but she kept her embarrassment
well suppressed.
“Just give me a kiss,” he coaxed, suddenly a pussycat, claws
retracted, “and I’ll let you do whatever you want.”
Until he wanted more, his hands all over her body while his
tongue snaked down her throat. “I can’t,” she blurted, then thought to appease,
“not now.”
“Sure you can.” Grinning, he snatched her tray. The drink
fell off. Vodka and vermouth splashed her arm. Glass shattered on the floor.
“Come on, baby, just sit on my—hey!” He tugged at the hand gripping his arm,
stopping him from manhandling her.
Stunned at the unexpected help, Nikki looked up. Her mouth
sagged open.
“The lady said no,” Mitch growled, his full attention on the
goon. “Back off.”
“Like hell.” He tugged but couldn’t get free. “Who the fuck
are you?”
“Mitch?” she blurted, not quite able to believe it, unable
to get her fill of him. Clean-shaven, he wore dark-brown pants, a white dress
shirt opened at the collar and a beige linen jacket. Casual, yet elegant and so
Mitch. “You’re really here?”
Surprise and exasperation raced across his face. “Where the
hell else did you think I’d be?” He let go of the goon and faced her.
Nikki threw her arms around his neck, releasing her weight
into him until she realized what she was doing. Before he could return her
caress, she let go and stepped back, waving her hands. “You shouldn’t be here.”
His expression darkened. “It’s a fucking miracle I am. You
left without a trace. You shut off your cell phone. There’re no utility records
in your name. No license changes, no car registration. Do you have any idea how
difficult it was to find you?”
She’d wanted it that way. She couldn’t bear the thought of
hurting him and Connor again.
“You should be spanked,” he said.
His comment was so husky and promising, Nikki’s mouth
trembled with her smile, until she reminded herself he had to go. They had no
future, no more good times, not without his brother. Once more, she stepped
back.
He followed.
“Looks like she doesn’t want you either,” the goon called
out.
Mitch ignored him. Love, not irritation, flooded his
features. “You’re not running away from me again, Nikki.”
She swallowed and continued to withdraw, her eyes filling.
“I have to. You know why. I can’t come between you and Connor.”
“Aw, baby, you haven’t. You won’t.”
“Bull,” she shot back, tears running down her cheeks. She
kept stepping away, trying to put distance between them, with him following.
“Don’t, please.” She put out her hand to stop him.
He curled his fingers around hers, keeping their joined
hands on his chest.
His heart drummed as hard as hers. His touch was as potent
as Nikki recalled, generating all the wonder she’d missed. She wanted to lose
herself in his embrace, to have him press his length to hers, taking what he
wanted, providing pleasure, but couldn’t. Pulling free, she hurried back
several steps. On either side of her, female servers and men moved aside, their
conversations and necking interrupted. The music grew more frantic, matching
her plea. “I just want you guys to be happy.”
Mitch gave her a look that said she was nuts. “How’d you
think that would happen with you disappearing?”
“I saw how you two acted when I was around and I couldn’t
stand it.”
“I know and that’s over.”
She sucked in a breath. “Over? What’s that mean? No. Don’t
talk like that. Connor’s your brother. Family, Mitch. You need to leave. Go
back to Atlanta.”
“Not without you.” He approached.
She moved back the same distance. “Forget about me.”
He continued to follow her around the tables with many of
the patrons watching. “You actually think I could do that?”
“You’ll have to,” she cried, her words hitching. “I won’t
let you choose me over your—” Nikki stopped at the solid wall of male behind
her, his arm snaking around her waist. She looked over.
Connor?
Oh my god, he was here too? Nikki turned, taking in his
black dress shirt, no tie, no jacket, no frills…exactly his bad-boy style. More
tears rolled down her cheeks.
His expression was pained and helpless, his voice rising
just above the din. “Mitch doesn’t want that, neither do I. How about you?”
He’d lost her. “What?”
Mitch spoke from behind. “She already said that she doesn’t,
all right?”
“I want to be sure,” Connor argued.
Mitch sighed. “We can discuss this later. Ready?”
For what?
“In a sec,” Connor said. Despite the activity and noise
surrounding them, he focused on her alone. “I know you want Mitch, Nikki, but
do you still want me?”
“Are you serious?” she shouted. “Yes. Of course. How can you
even question it?”
“That’s what I’ve been telling him all along,” Mitch
offered, then asked again, “Ready?”