Chase (13 page)

Chase glances at me like I’m crazy and I’ve lost my mind. Maybe I have.

“No one is gonna fucking touch you, you are mine.” he strides over to me and grasps a bunch of my hair in his fist at the back of my head, lifting my face up to his.

“I’m not yours, Chase, not anymore.” I can feel his arousal against my stomach. Apparently us fighting turns him on.

He laughs, and it is not a pleasant sound. It is bitter and sarcastic. With that, he turns around and punches his fist into the wall.

“Fuck!” he roars. Eyes wide, I slowly step back, which earns me an ice cold glare. “Don’t you even try to act like you are scared of me, Layla!” He takes a few deep breaths, trying to gain control. After a few moments, he sighs, resigned.

“You’re pissed now, but when you calm down, you will change your mind. So I will give you this play- for now. But I don’t care what you say, no other man fucking touches you. Get dressed.” He tries to kiss me but I push him away. His lips pursed in anger, he turns around and heads to his room.

I walk out wearing my black high waisted shorts, with a net lace tight top which is tucked in and black pumps. My hair is in its natural, wavy long, black tresses. I added a little volume with my teasing brush, and added some gold color to my eyes. I wanted to look sexy, but not so sexy that I looked like I might work in the club.

Chase’s eyes heat when he sees me, and I can see him checking me out from head to toe. When his eyes hit mine, I can see the heat turning to anger. He barks out one word. “Change!”

“No. I look fine. Now let’s go.”

“Yes you look fucking fine. You want to torture me don’t you?” He pauses for a moment, and then shakes his head and sighs. “Fuck, let’s get this over with. Come on.”

Even angry at me, he still opens the door for me. I try to hide my grin. As we get closer to Heat, Chase visibly starts getting nervous. I know this because I can see him tapping his fingers on the steering wheel, and I can see the muscle ticking in his jaw. Okay yes, he is taking me to a strip club, his strip club. But there is something else, and I’m curious as hell.

Even if the thought of Chase owning a strip club kills me, the building he has designed is a piece of art. The man is clearly talented. The building is black and modern, with asymmetrical features. We walk in and are greeted politely by the bouncer. Inside the place looks exactly like you assume a strip club would look. A bar, podiums with poles, tacky lighting and loud music. But Heat also has a large stage; I assume that’s where he also holds performances.

Chase puts his hands around my waist and quickly leads me away from the fun and towards his boring office. “Stay in here for a minute, I need to handle some business.”

“Okay.” I answer sweetly.

He narrows his eyes at me, like he knows I’m lying. He shakes his head in exasperation, then leaves.

I am so not staying here. I want to explore. A few minutes after he leaves, I walk back out to where we came from, to see a security guard blocking the path I need to exit. Did Chase tell him to do that? Damn that man knows me well. I wait for a few minutes, contemplating my next move, when he becomes distracted by a huge pair of boobs. I slowly sneak through, then head for the bar. The bar tender is a beautiful red head, she has lots of tattoos and looks like a pin up model.

“What can I get ya?” Her voice is raspy.

“Two tequila shots please.”

I down the shots, then have to do a double take when I see some familiar faces. The three girls from the beach are here. They glance my way, but mustn’t remember me. I guess they had their eyes on Chase the whole time. I now know why Chase was nervous. Not only is Aubrey here, but exactly how many of these girls has he slept with? His brothers too. I have a feeling that they share girls and don’t really care, which is why at the start, Chase didn’t trust them around me. Because normally I would have been fair game. Sleeping with his employees? Not very professional Mr. Jackson. And I know siblings are meant to share, but come on!

An older gentleman sits next to me, not even bothering to hiding his interest.

“Can I buy you a drink?”

I blink. “No, thank you.”

“A beautiful girl in a strip club, all alone. I think tonight is my lucky night.”

Umm, gross. “Sorry, but I’m not interested.”

I see Chase walk out and glance around frantically, he finally sees me and even from here, I can see he’s not happy. His movements are tense but quick as he walks up towards me, and glares at the man sitting next to me.

He leans closer to the man and says, “You must have a fucking death wish, sitting there, trying to hit on my woman.” Before the man can respond, and before I can protest that I’m not his girl, Chase signals one of his bouncers to come over. He grabs the man by his arm and drags him out.

Chase slides into the now vacated spot. “I’m pretty sure I told you to stay in the office.”

I shrug. “I hate this.” I whisper.

His face pales. “Baby, you wanted to come here, I thought..”

“I hate that you own this place. That you come here. That you probably hand-picked these girls,” I gesture to the girls working the pole, “and most of all I hate that I have shared you, with hell knows how many other women in this building right now. I hate that these girls, essentially these girls are yours.”

Chase’s voice is solemn when he responds. “It is what it is, Layla. These girls are well looked after, well cared for. No one can touch them, they are kept safe. I don’t hand pick the girls, Layla, I hire people for all those tasks. Yes, I have been unprofessional in the past, but that was a while ago. I was young, stupid and had a lot of money on my hands that I had no idea what to do with, and with all that, came lots of women. But I’m not like that now, Layla. I only want you, I wish you could see that. There is nothing wrong with these girls doing what they have to do to get on in life, you shouldn’t judge so harshly.”

“I’m not judgmental!” I scoff.

“You’re judging me for being with these girls, because of their occupation.”

“Okay fine I’m not thrilled about it, who would be?”

“These girls choose to do this, who are we to judge them about it?”

He’s making it seem like I’m over reacting about everything. I need five minutes alone, so I stand up.

“I’m going to the bathroom.”

I walk down the hall towards the bathroom; on the way there I can see the door to a dressing room is wide open. Curious, I glance inside. Several women are in different states of undress, feeling like a pervert I turn to go.

A stunning brunette with dark eyes quickly grabs me by the arm and asks, “You the new girl? Winter?”

“Huh?”

“Don’t be scared. It won’t be so bad, Winter, here’s your outfit.” She hands me a pile of clothes that look like lingerie and then turns and starts talking to some of the other girls. An idea forms in my head.

Chapter Nineteen

I only have a few minutes before he starts looking for me, so I change quickly. I’m wearing a white masquerade mask with feathers on it, a white see through baby doll dress and a white thong. Essentially it’s all lingerie. I kept my bra on. I slip into silver stilettos, which are a tiny bit too big, but I can manage.

“Winter, you’re up!” someone yells.

I’m going to hell for this, I know. But I need to teach this man a lesson. It’s okay for women to strip, it’s their choice. And it is. I just don’t want my man to be in this business. The other women can do as they please, I’m sure some of them are here by necessity. It’s horrible to think about really. But he calls me judgmental. Well I’m choosing to dance tonight, according to him its fine for them. We will see if he thinks its fine for me.

I’m shit scared right now. I’m not scared of the dance moves; I have been dancing my whole life. Maybe not on a pole, but I can compensate with some grinding moves, those I have down pact. I walk onto stage, as Sean Paul’s ‘She doesn’t mind’ hits the speakers. Suddenly the spot light is on me and I start to move. I glance around and see that Chase is not there, he must have gone to look for me. I push him out of my mind and pretend I can’t see several men’s greedy eyes on me.

I gyrate my hips, spin around and lower myself on the pole. Hey, this is kind of fun. I can hear some catcalls, so I must be doing something right. Lost in the music, I sensually sway my hips, and raise my hands over my head. I hear a crashing noise, and the sound of glass smashing in the back ground. I open my eyes and I can see Chase, fuming. He is standing by the bar, eyes trained on me, fists clenched. His eyes are ice cold, his scowl harsh. His stance is so commanding, he looks ready to kill someone. I have never seen him this angry before. The broken glass is from the bar, where he has, what look like, smashed everything in a state of rage.

He walks towards me determinedly, with long purposeful steps. He jumps on the stage, grabs me and takes me down the way that I came out, from the dressing room. He looks around for something to put on me, but the only items available in this dressing room are similar to what I’m already wearing. Shaking in anger, he lets go of my hand and pulls of his shirt. He roughly puts it on me and buttons it up; it comes almost to my knees. He grabs my other clothes and shoes, retakes my arm and proceeds to drag me out the back entrance. He practically runs to the car, dragging me along with him.

“Such a hypocrite!” I say softy, resigned, earning me a slap on the ass.

“Don’t fucking start, Layla!” he growls, his voice like thunder. The car door is opened and I’m pushed inside, the instant I’m seated, he slams the door closed. He gets in the driver’s side, and sits there in silence for a few moments, breathing heavily, his hands shaking. I can see that his knuckles are grazed and bleeding slightly.

“Chase..”

“Shut up, Layla,” he grinds out through clenched teeth.

Shit. I’ve pushed him too far this time. His shirt has drops of blood on it, and suddenly I’m feeling guilty as hell. I don’t even throw the comments he made back at him, about me being so judgmental, and that stripping is a perfectly fine occupation. The ride home is silent, and the air is so thick, so tense. I have no idea what is in store for me. I try to talk to him but every time I say even one word I’m cut off with a deathly glare and no response. After three tries I just shut my mouth and wait. He’s the one in control now. We pull up into the driveway and he stops the car.

“Go inside, Layla.” Huh?

“What about you?”

“Get inside, now,” he says stiffly.

I step out of the car and notice that my car is back in the driveway, I guess one of his minions dropped it off. I walk to the front door with quick strides. As soon as I open it, he slams the car into reverse and speeds off. Fuck! I guess I succeeded in pushing him away. Which is what I wanted right? Then why do I feel like shit?

I have a quick shower and jump in bed. A few hours of restlessness later, I go into Chase’s room to find him still not home. I call his phone, but no answer.

L: Chase please just let me know you are okay.

C: I’m fine, go to sleep.

L: Are you coming home?

No answer. I crawl into his bed and fall asleep.

******

CHASE

I’m sitting at the bar, agitated, waiting for Layla to return from the bathroom. It’s been five minutes, what the fuck is taking her so long. Getting worried, I get up to go and find her, when the stage music starts. Men start whistling, and my eyes automatically go to the stage.

Fuck! What the fuck is she doing?

She wants to fucking kill me. My heart stops beating and I stare at her white barely there outfit. Thank fuck she has a bra on, but she is wearing a fucking thong. I glance over at all the men who are devouring her with their eyes. I see red. I feel hatred.

In a fit of rage, I smash anything I can get my hands on. The glasses that were lined up on the bar, anything. I punch at the glass case, glass going everywhere.

I look over at her to see she has stopped dancing, and is staring at me.

The most fucked up thing about this whole situation, is that if she wasn’t mine, my Layla, I would have looked at her and thought she belonged up there. Her body is made for sin, and the men seem to agree with me. She would have made this club a lot of money.

Fuck, she’s right.

What the fuck am I doing owning a place like this? Every girl on stage could be someone’s Layla. I’ve had a fucking epiphany, but at what cost?

My woman, up there, being ogled by all these perverted fucks.

What happens next is a blur, but I know I grab her off the stage and get her into my car. She tries to talk to me, but I’m not having it right now. I’m fucking pissed. At her, but mostly at myself. At what I have reduced her to do. I drop her off, knowing I’m not joining her inside. I feel raw, I need some time alone.

I wait until she’s safely inside, and then drive straight to my apartment. This place is just for me. No one comes here, no women, no one. It’s my place. I make my way inside and pour myself a scotch. I get a text from Layla, but I can’t talk to her right now. I need to fix this shit.

My phone rings, Aubrey.

Fuck.

Luckily, Layla didn’t see her at the club. She was having another fucking fit, trying to use her job as a way to manipulate me. I could care less anymore. Her hold on me is over.

Nothing matters anymore, except my Layla.

Chapter Twenty

Kade drove me to the University the next day. Chase didn’t come home, and I had no idea where he was. I didn’t ask Kade or James either, although I was dying to know. Kade walked me to my class.

“Meet me by my car when you’re done.”

“Okay, thanks for the ride.” He kisses my head and leaves. I could have driven myself but Kade insisted, because he was coming here anyway. However I have a feeling Chase told him to keep an eye on me.

Class dragged on, and I couldn’t stop thinking about Chase. Afterwards I was walking and texting Nikki at the same time, when I came face first with a wall. Or what felt like a wall, it was actually a hard bodied male. I almost go flying but he steadies me. I look into brown eyes and apologize. I do a double take when I recognize Derek, James and Kade’s friend.