Hitched (7 page)

Dan settles in with a cigar, using a cigar cutter to nip off the end and then lighting it. The room begins to smell spicy with a hint of vanilla, and I don't mind it. Cigar smoke has a richer quality than cigarettes, which I can't stand, and I enjoy the sweet, smoky atmosphere it creates.

I'm doing my best to avoid looking in Sebastian's direction, a sick feeling forming in the pit of my stomach as I realize I'll have to spend the whole evening pretending we are nothing to each other.

The other men have settled into chairs we’ve arranged around the room, scattered with small tables for their food and drink. Tate turns down the music so I can introduce my staff and myself and give them a brief reminder of what the evening will include—and what it will not.

When I give my standard disclaimer about no sex, no touching, no propositioning the dancers, a surly looking man with a goatee and small dark eyes actually “boos” me.

"We didn't come here to look. We came here for some action. That's what these parties are supposed to be about."

"What's your name, sir?" I ask. Tate is walking over to my side to create an impression of "don't fuck with us," I'm sure. I don't mind. He is the bouncer if things get too wild, which has only happened once.

"Henry," he says. And by his slurred words and clouded eyes, I can tell he's already been drinking. Great. Don't you just love a drunken man in a room full of still-sober people? Yeah, me neither.

"Henry," I keep a smile on my face and my voice conversational and light, "we made it clear to Dan when he chose us that we don't provide that particular service. If you're looking for companionship, there are other places on the Strip that will accommodate."

He frowns, his face sullen, but he doesn't argue, and I'm glad he's not making more of a scene. I give a look to my brother, and he nods. We'll both be keeping an eye on the guy.

Tate turns the music back up and puts on a set for our dancers.

Jasmine comes out first, her body covered in ribbons of fabric that I know will come off one by one as the song progresses.

We've created a pseudo stage for them, complete with a removable pole. We hired these two dancers in particular because of their remarkable skill on the pole. It never ceases to wow our clients.

Jasmine moves around the room, seducing each man with her eyes, with her swaying hips, as she pulls the ribbons off her dress, revealing bits of skin with each discarded cloth.

Most of the men in the room can't turn their eyes from her. Except Chad, who keeps glancing at Vi; Tate, who keeps his eyes sweeping the room; the groom, who's still texting his wife-to-be…

And Sebastian, who hasn't stopped staring at me since he arrived.

I can't avoid his gaze any longer, and so I turn my eyes to him, admiring his chiseled features, the way his body fills his jeans to perfection, the way he looks at me as if he wants to eat me.

My body burns with the same need I always have at the thought or sight of him, but I'm also angry. Angry he's here—and you and I both know it's not an accident—and angry that he won't accept no for an answer. And, if I'm being honest, angry that I don't want him to accept my no. Totally lame, am I right? I suck.

As Jasmine finishes up her dance, Nicole comes in, and the music changes to something more upbeat. She's dressed in an exotic belly-dancing costume, and she begins her strip tease.

By the end, both dancers are in a bra and panties with high heels. The men are nearly salivating. Vi keeps plying them with drink, and I make sure to walk the hors d'oeuvre tray around so they get something in their stomach.

When I lean over to serve the belligerent Henry, he breathes his liquored breath into my face and speaks in a hushed voice. "If they're not available, what about you? You could be a stripper with that body and a model with that face. I'd do you, and I'd pay nicely for it." He holds up a wad of cash and puts it in my hands. I take it, put it into our tip jar, and smile. "Thank you, but the answer is still no."

His face turns mean, but I leave him to serve the others, who also offer tips, without the propositions, and our jar fills with money that will go to Vi and the dancers. Tate and I never take tips collected at the parties. If the groom or bride want to tip us directly afterwards, that's fine.

When the music shifts again, the room turns foggy with white smoke from a smoke machine, and lights come on in different colors under the smoke, giving it a haunted dream-like look. Nicole dances around with ribbons as Jasmine begins a pole dance that is nothing short of athletic in its beauty. At one point she is actually walking on the ceiling, using only her arms to support her on the pole.

I can hear one of the men gasp, and I know they're as impressed as everyone is. The show is sexy, classy and amazing.

When it ends, they both reveal their breasts to clapping and catcalling, and they offer lap dances to those who want to pay more. I remind the men of the rules and look for Tate, knowing he'll keep an eye on things as I step away to call room service for dessert to be sent up.

I'm alone in the bedroom when the door opens. I expect it to be Tate or Vi. I want it to be Sebastian.

It's Henry. And now he's really drunk.

He leers at me as he stalks toward me. He's got a good one hundred pounds on me and is much taller. I know some karate, so I'm not too scared—hey, a girl's gotta be able to defend herself in a city like this—but my heart still jumps into my throat. "Henry, please return to the other guests. This room is private."

"Which makes it perfect for what I want. You took my money, bitch. Now I'm going to take what I paid for."

He's about to grab me as I raise my knee to catch him in the balls when the door opens again, and Sebastian is there, looking like he's ready to kill someone.

He grabs Henry and pulls him away from me. "What the fuck are you doing in here with her?"

Henry unwisely gloats. "None of your fucking business."

"It is now," he says and punches the man in the jaw. My first thought is, holy shit. My second is immediate concern for Sebastian's hands. He's a surgeon. Punching someone isn't a great idea when your whole career relies on your hands.

But he doesn't seem to care about his hands or his career. He's about to punch him again, but Tate joins us with a face full of apology. "Let's get this guy out of here," he says to Sebastian, who visibly calms down and nods.

They both escort Henry to the door, and Sebastian makes a call, securing a cab for the man through the concierge of the hotel.

When Tate closes and locks the door behind Henry, I finally breathe normally. The music has stopped, I realize, and all the party guests are staring at us.

"I apologize for the brief interruption. Who would like another dance from our amazing dancers? This time to live music?"

The men nod eagerly, and I give a nod to Chad to do his thing. He looks about ready to piss himself, but he grabs his guitar and sits to the side of the stage as he begins strumming his guitar.

I know Jasmine and Nicole will find ways to improvise this. They're that good. And they don't disappoint. They create a very sexy, very sultry dance that's almost story like in its presentation as Chad sings.

The men are mesmerized, and I use the distraction to make sure Dan is okay.

He apologizes before I have a chance to say anything. "I shouldn't have invited him, but he's my cousin, and my parents twisted my arm. I'm so sorry."

I smile. "It's okay. We're used to it. No biggie." This is a lie, but it makes him feel better.

"I'll pay for any inconvenience he posed."

"Just enjoy the rest of your night," I say.

It seems that he does. The party goes late into the early morning before the men tire and start leaving one by one.

I'm dead on my feet as the last one departs. I look around but don't see Sebastian, and I shove away the disappointment that I didn't get to talk to him when he left. Vi and Chad leave after that, and Tate packs up what he brought and gives the dancers a ride home. "I've got to stay and clean up, but I'll be home in a little bit. You don't need to come back. I've got this covered," I tell him.

"Are you sure?" He doesn't look convinced.

"Yup. Get the girls home." I hand him the tip jar. "Split this up with them and save some for Vi. This should make them happy."

He kisses my cheek. "Will do, sis. Be safe and don't stay out too late."

I give him my best wide-eyed innocence look. "Who me? Never."

I can still hear his laughter down the hall as he leaves.

Once alone, the weight of exhaustion hits me, but I still have work to do. I'm cleaning up cups and wiping up spills when the hotel door opens.

I turn, startled. Tate and I should be the only ones with the key.

But apparently not.

Sebastian has one too, it seems.

"What are you doing here?" I ask him, my body too still, frozen in place as I gape at him. I hate him for showing up here. I want to slap him for refusing to sign the papers. And I'm pissed off because, despite all that, I want to kiss him.

He takes long strides toward me, his body thrumming with pent-up energy, his eyes devouring me. "I came to help you clean up."

His answer disarms me. "What?"

"I came to help you clean up," he repeats. "From the party."

I must look like someone who doesn't understand words at all anymore, because he frowns and looks around at the mess, gesturing with his hands. "Clean. Up." He says slowly.

I can't help but laugh despite myself. "I get it. Sorry, that just… surprised me. It wasn't what I was expecting."

"What were you expecting?" he asks. He grabs a trash bag and starts tossing plates and napkins in.

I shrug, not willing to turn down help when I'm dead on my feet, and start taking down the decorations. "I don't know. I guess, something more carnal."

He pauses in his cleaning and smiles in that devilish way he has. "That comes later. After your job is done and you can relax and fully enjoy those carnal delights."

I ignore the tingling sensation trailing down my spine as I continue cleaning the hotel room. "What were you doing at this party?" I ask, but I already suspect the answer.

"Who do you think referred you?" He takes the full trash bag from my hands and ties it off, then places it next to the door. "You wouldn't return my calls, so I had to find a way to see you."

I steel myself, resolve flooding me even as my passion for him simmers. "So you thought meddling with my business was the way to my heart? This isn't a hobby for me," I say too loudly. "This is my career. My livelihood. You had no right."

"I would never do anything to damage your business," he says. "It was a legitimate reference, and Dan had a great time. He and his friends will definitely be spreading the word about Hitched and you. And I kept my distance during the party so you could work."

I take a breath and realize he's right. He didn't hurt my business or damage me in any way. Was it manipulative? Yes. But not worth getting this upset about. He gave me a client. That hardly makes him a bad guy.

And now he's emptying beer bottles into the hotel sink and wiping down suspicious looking fluids from the table.

"Thank you for the referral," I say, once my temper's checked. "And thank you for your help tonight."

"You're welcome."

I keep looking for something more to clean, but the hotel room is nearly spotless by the time we're both done. There's nothing left to do but face him.

Before I can object, he pulls me into his arms and claims my mouth with his. He tastes of wine and cigars, and my body responds to him even as my mind tries to put the halt on the sexy times.

My mind finally wins, and I push him away. I'm out of breath, and my brain is cloudy with desire, but I force reason into the moment. "I can't do this again," I say.

He caresses my face with his hand, running a long finger down my cheek and jawline. "I don't think either of us has a choice."

He dips his head, his lips pressing into my neck, a flick of his tongue setting my skin aflame, and I groan even as I curse him for everything he's making me feel.

But I don't resist. Because I want him too much. These last few weeks have been miserable. I haven't been able to get him out of my mind. Maybe this will be it, one more dance before we end it for real.

And by dance, I of course mean hot, wild sex.

His hands are exploring my body, and I let go of him to pull off my blouse and unzip my skirt. They fall to the floor, and I'm standing in front of him in nothing but black lace and silk and high heels.

I reach to take his shirt off, but he drops to his knees instead and begins trailing kisses down my belly, his hands on my hips and ass, fingers pressing into my flesh.

When his tongue runs over my panties, teasing my pussy, my head falls back, and my hands dig into his hair, gripping him as he releases my hip and uses a finger to slide the silk fabric away. This time the firm pressure of his mouth comes in direct contact with my clit, and I moan.