Southern Seduction (16 page)

Several hours later, the time is a little past eight. Penn and Nate hammered out most of the details with the warehouse owner’s lawyers. The condition of the abandoned building allowed them to get a steal of a purchase on the property. They paid pennies in comparison to what was shelled out for the Reno location. But it’ll all be worth it. A little hard work will pay off in the end.

“Let’s grab a bite to eat before we get back on the road,” Nate insists as they hop into Penn’s Range Rover sitting in the parking lot of Conner Matthews & Steel Associates.

Penn shrugs his shoulders in response. “I could go for a steak right about now. I’m starving and practically high off that deal you just got me.” A satisfied smile crosses his lips as he puts the key in the ignition and pulls onto the main road.

“Ruth’s Chris?” Nate asks with amusement.

“Is that even a question?”

Penn’s lawyer chuckles loudly, smacking his knee in two rough movements. “A dumb question, obviously. Take us to the steak, Wilder,” he says with a gesture of his hand to the road.

Penn’s throaty chuckle fills the SUV as he hops onto the highway and heads towards steak mecca. His stomach growls at the thought of the best damn food on the planet. If there’s one thing a Southern man enjoys, it’s steak. A nice, juicy, perfectly cooked medium rare steak.

The beats of
Alabama
by Cross Canadian Ragweed keep both men entertained and fill the comfortable silence. Penn is a country boy through and through. He loves country music, and this band is one of his current favorites. He’s slightly thrown off that this song reminds him of a certain woman with the most perfect body on the planet. A woman who’s got him tied up in all sorts of knots.
Danny Jo
.

Yeah, she prefers Daniella these days. Her sass and stubborn personality shine through whenever she hears that old nickname, but it still doesn’t stop him from thinking it. In his mind, she’ll always be Danny Jo.
His Danny Jo.
A silent laugh fills his lungs as he thinks about the romantic sentiments that always seem to revolve around her.

It’s been rough the past couple of weeks with her working at Wild Nights. Actually, rough isn’t even the word. Impossible. Excruciating. Painfully bittersweet. All of these are better descriptions of what it feels like watching Daniella cocktail on weekends in the ridiculously revealing uniform that shows off her perfect assets to every god damn patron of Wild Nights. His mind is imprinted with pictures of her curvy ass sashaying across the club. The flirtatious smiles that cross her lips as she serves customers are painfully etched in his memory.
Fuck.

And that dance… The unbelievable dance she performed for him damn near gave him a heart attack. Penn discreetly adjusts his pants, his dick wandering to less-than-appropriate territories. Normally, seeing his employees strut around in next to nothing has very little effect on him. Yes, he appreciates the female form just as much as any other man, but they are his employees. And that’s all he sees them as. He doesn’t fuck with his employees. That’s a rule of his that he’s stuck with since the very first night he opened up Wild Nights.

Business and pleasure do not mix when you are the boss. He has a name to uphold. Even though strip clubs aren’t known for being reputable in professional perspectives, that is what has made his club different. It is classy and respectable while exuding more sophistication than any strip club in the country.

As Penn pulls into the parking lot of Ruth’s Chris, his cell phone vibrates with a voicemail notification. He forgot he’d turned the volume off when they were meeting with the lawyers. He listens to the message as he and Nate head for the front door of the renowned restaurant.

“Hey, man, it’s Grant. Feather and Diamond called in sick tonight. Not sure what the fuck is going on, but I had to make some last-minute changes to make sure we had enough numbers on the main stage. I added Roxie. She says she’s ready and that you were already planning on throwing her into the lineup this weekend, so I figured why the fuck not now. All right…”
The line fills with sultry club music playing into the receiver.
“Talk later. Peace.”

And the message ends.

Penn stopped mid-step once Grant said the name Roxie. Daniella’s stage name. The name he never intended for her to ever use. And she conned Grant into letting her dance tonight, giving him some bullshit line that Penn had already given her the go-ahead.

FUCK!

He runs one free hand roughly through his blondish-brown hair, leaving it in a disheveled mess, while his other hand fishes out his keys. Nate turns around as he’s pulling the front door to the restaurant open and recognizes that Penn is no longer in stride with him.

“You all right?” He takes in his friend’s irate appearance. His jaw is clenched, his mouth formed in a tight line, his eyes fuming with anger.

“We gotta go. Now!” Penn shouts as he stalks back to the car.

“What?” Nate questions, confused as he follows—slowly nonetheless, but still following Penn’s lead.

“Fuck! Don’t ask questions. We’re driving back right the fuck now!” He hops into the driver’s seat and slams the door shut, the key already in the ignition and revving the engine.

“Holy shit…” Nate mumbles to himself as he sprints to the Range Rover and jumps in quickly before Penn peels out of the parking lot without him. The loud screech of tires echoes loudly inside of the cab. “What’s going on, Wilder?”

Penn’s jaw grits several times before he can gain the ability to speak without screaming. “Grant is putting Roxie on stage tonight.” He slams his fists down onto the steering wheel continuously as he accelerates onto the highway. “Fuck!”

“I thought… I thought strippers were supposed to go on stage?” Nate inquires as he glances at the speedometer. One hundred and ten miles per hour. Shit. Penn’s either got a death wish for both of them or something else is going on.

“
Not her!
She was never supposed to go on stage. Never. It’s hard enough letting her walk around with her tits and ass hanging out for every horny bastard within a fifteen-mile radius to drool over.” His tone is short and clipped and quiet, eerily quiet. He only gets this kind of quiet when something is really pissing him off.

He continues to demon-dial his general manager, frantically trying to get him on the line. “God damnit! Is he hiding out in a bomb shelter?!” he shouts before dialing another number. “Where’s Grant?” he asks angrily into the receiver. “What do you mean you don’t know?! Fucking find him!” His fist slams down onto the steering wheel again, rage consuming his entire demeanor. “What about Roxie? Put Roxie on the line.” He forces air into his lungs in erratic breaths. “When you find either of them, you tell them to call me. You got it? Good.” He hangs up and throws the phone down into the empty cup holder next to his hip.

This is bad. The worst kind of bad. Daniella was never supposed to strip. Serving drinks and food while scantily clad is one thing, but taking all of her clothes off and baring her perfect body for strangers is whole other thing.
A never-gonna-happen kind of thing
.

Lap dances
. Those two words make his chest heavy and his pulse race unsteadily. No fucking way will
his Daniella
give some horny bastard a lap dance. Just the thought of her straddling some stranger and grinding her body all over them has bile rising from the pit of his stomach.

Penn checks the time on the dashboard. Half past eight. He’s an hour and half outside of Houston, and the first dancers go on around ten. And he can guarantee that, since Daniella is the newbie, she’ll be one of the first to take the stage. They always save their most experienced, most talented dances for the end of the night. But he’s seen her dance. He knows that she’s more than capable of being the best god damn stripper to ever grace Wild Night’s stage, but she’s better than that. Penn’s foot hits the gas pedal, pushing the two men back in their seats. His mind races with one goal in mind—STOP Daniella from stepping onto that stage.

Fuck.

Fuck.

Fuck.

Here’s to hoping he doesn’t get pulled over.

What if she’s already dancing when I get there?

He’ll pull her off the stage by her god damn hair.

What if she’s giving someone a lap dance?

His body temperature grows hot as his temper rises to boiling heights. The minutes tick away, his breaths coming quicker by the second. He’ll strangle any motherfucker who puts a finger on her.

Scratch the first one: Here’s to hoping he doesn’t end up in jail tonight.

“Roxie! You’re up next, sweetheart!” Grant yells to her from outside of the dressing room.

She startles at the sound of his voice.
Holy Hell’s bells.

Is she really going to go through with this?

Is she really going to walk out on that stage and dance…and get—
gulp
—naked?

“You all right, girlie?” Kitty stands behind her, looking at her reflection in the mirror of Daniella’s designated vanity.

She only shrugs in response. Kitty’s red-painted nails run softly through her hair as a concerned look crosses her very done-up face. Obviously Kitty is ready for tonight; this is the norm for her.

This is not the norm for Daniella. She can feel the tremble in her hand as she applies her last layer of mascara. Her eyes hesitantly observe her appearance. She’s come a long way from the little girl in knee socks and pigtails. She’s gone all out for her first night on stage. Smokey eyes and thick lashes, blush highlighting her already prominent cheek bones, and lip gloss to make her gorgeously full mouth stand out for the crowd. She is sexy tonight, no doubt, but she can’t fight the incessant punch in her gut that serves as a constant reminder of what she is about to do.

There is no turning back after this.

It’s one thing to do a striptease in an empty club for Penn, but it’s a whole other thing to step out onto that stage with a packed club full of watchful eyes observing her every move. A club filled with customers who are more than ready to watch strippers take their clothes off and dance erotically across the stage. Her body will be bared and vulnerable, and at about three minutes into her song, she won’t have any clothing to hide behind.

“Are you sure, Roxie?” Kitty asks again, her face still worrisome and concerned.

Daniella nods. “Yeah, I’m good. Just a little nervous. First night on stage… Just normal first-timer jitters.”

“You don’t have to go through with it. Just say the word and I’ll get you out of here.”

She sighs heavily at the offer. “I know. It’s all good. I’ve got tuition to pay, remember?”

Kitty raises a single questioning brow in Daniella’s direction. “I know, girlie, but this isn’t the only way. I know Penn would be the first one to help you out.”

Yeah, he sure would, but she has no desire to be indebted to him for the rest of her life. Lord only knows how long it would take for her to pay back the money, and she can’t stand the idea of him helping her out in that kind of way. She’s not his responsibility. Yeah, he seems to play the big brother card far too often, but in the end, she’s adamant that she can take care of herself.

Daniella waves Kitty off with feigned indifference. “Don’t worry your pretty little face about it. I’m good to go. I’m a little excited to be honest. I can imagine it’s quite the rush out there.”

A knowing smile crests Kitty’s bright red lips as a small giggle escapes her lungs. “I’m going to finish getting ready, but you come get me if you need anything, okay?”

“Okay.”

Kitty leans down and hugs her briefly around the shoulders before whispering, “Good luck,” in her ear and then striding away.

“I can do this. I can definitely do this,” Daniella mutters to herself as she slides her silver stilettos on. She stands in front of the floor-length mirror and hesitantly slips off the black silk robe. Her eyes go wide once her entire body comes in to view.
Damn
.

She looks good…sensational, actually. She’s adorned every inch of her skin with small diamonds. Her body glitters and shines under the florescent light above the mirror. The effect of the jewels will look even better with the club lights dimmed and colorful spotlights hovering over her naked form. Her legs appear long and lean and endlessly toned. A small G-string is the only thing covering her goods.