Page 18 of Wreck Me

‘I can’t,’ I blurt after what feels like minutes, not seconds.

‘Can’t or won’t?’ Christopher scowls.

‘Can’t,’ a deep, rich voice decrees from behind us. A huge, hot hand lands on the base of my spine. The shivers that skim my skin aren't out of fear. They’re an entirely primal response to the owner of that booming baritone.

The scent of citrus and raw masculinity surrounds me.

James.

Christopher’s gaze snaps to the man behind me, his hand falling from my face.

I take a step back, leaning against smooth silk and solid muscle.

‘She already agreed to dance for me tonight.’ James’s tone is eerily neutral but still weighted with a warning.

‘Is that right?’ A tight smile lifts Christopher’s lips. ‘Well, well, well, there’s a first for everything.’ His eyes jump curiously between James and me. ‘Scarlett doesn’t normally do private dances and you never normally avail of them.’

‘There’s never been anyone worth availing of before.’ James maintains an air of boredom despite the tension swirling in the air.

‘I offered her twenty-five grand. What are you prepared to pay for a… dance.’ Christopher pronounces the word ‘dance’ like it’s a drug.

‘Fifty.’ James’s tone is final.

I clear my throat, unsure if I should be horrified or flattered that they’re bartering over me. The club takes twenty percent of every private dance but I’m pretty sure Christopher doesn’t give a shit about the money. This negotiation is a power struggle. And there is one clear winner.

‘She’s due on the main stage again in an hour.’ Christopher’s biceps flex beneath his suit as he folds his arms across his chest.

‘And she’ll come back to me again after that.’ James’s voice is calm but there’s a cold, dangerous edge to it.

‘Do I get a say in this?’ I glance between the two men displaying a confidence I don’t feel.

Christopher’s jaw tenses. ‘Of course you do. Private dances are at your discretion.’ Funny how he’s doing a one-eighty now James is here.

‘In that case…’ I swivel towards James, ‘I’ll dance for you.’

It’s not about the money. I’d dance for him for free.

It’s about the man.

I’ve been obsessing about him since the first night. I’m not going to let the opportunity to spend some time with him alone slip through my fingers, even if I wasn't being paid a ridiculous amount of money for the privilege.

‘How about seventy grand?’ Christopher arches an eyebrow in question. ‘I don’t mind sharing.’

A thunderous expression flickers across James’s features. ‘I don’t share.’ His hand remains protectively on my lower back as he ushers me towards a mirrored doorway. ‘Send in a bottle of Dom Perignon, will you?’ he calls to Christopher over his shoulder, like he’s no more than a glorified waiter.

Christopher pauses for a beat, a thunderous expression flicking across his face as he turns on his heel.

My stomach flips.

And who the hell pays fifty grand for time with me?

It’s beyond flattering.

It’s exhilarating and terrifying in equal measure.

He nudges me through the mirrored door and it closes behind us with a definitive click.

Chapter Eleven

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