Page 73 of Redeem Me

Chapter Thirty-Two

CAELON

August

Dermot whistles as he scans the Luxor Lounge –or more specifically, as he scans the nearly naked dancers on the podiums. Rian might be a jumped-up asshole who hits on my partner, but he’s done a stellar job with the décor. Where this place was once all marble and chrome, it’s now rustic and masculine. Dark wooden panelling lines the walls, ceilings and floors. Rich, red leather circular booths are dotted around the room, and a dark mahogany circular-shaped bar dominates the centre of the space. It looks like what it is – a gentlemen’s club. Not a high-end knocking shop.

We’re sitting in a booth adjacent to the main stage, with a bottle of Beckett’s Gold on the table between us in a crystal Beckett decanter, a welcome present from Rian, who is busy welcoming his new members.

‘This is like being a kid with fistfuls of cash in a sweetshop, only better.’ Dermot wets his lips and strums a finger over his chin.

‘I never did have a sweet tooth,’ I mutter, taking a sip of whiskey.

‘Maybe you haven’t found the right candy yet.’ He shoots me a wink and I shake my head.

I’ve found the right candy, alright, but he’d rather knock my teeth out than let me have my fill of it.

‘What about her?’ He nods at a dancer on the main stage. She’s five-foot-nine with legs up to her armpits, and breasts that are too perfect to be anything but plastic. Her deep chocolate-coloured eyes are the same shade as her silky hair. Physically, she’s beautiful, but she elicits zero response from my cock.

There’s only one woman who can command its attention and she’s sprawled out on my couch sipping a whiskey, watching Love Island.

‘She’s okay.’ I shrug while Dermot’s eyes almost pop out of his head.

‘Okay?’ He leans across the table ‘She’s fucking stunning with a body I’d pay a serious amount of money to bury myself in.’

‘Want me to ask Rian who she is?’ I glance at the bar where my little brother is man-hugging the new Irish president.

‘No, I’ll ask her myself when she’s sitting on my lap in about ten minutes.’ Dermot turns his attention back to the stage.

‘What about her?’ He points at a red head dancing on one of the smaller podiums. She has curves in all the right places. Creamy, flawless skin. An ass that could give J-Lo a run for her money. Yet I can’t even muster a semi for her. It’s official. Ivy Winters has ruined me. I’m falling hard for a short sassy blonde with a mouth as big as her baby blue eyes, and a fondness for my family’s whiskey and my family jewels.

Ivy has got under my skin. Which is why I sleep in her bed every single night. Why I bring her coffee in the morningbefore hitting the gym. Why I feel unsettled any time she’s not within three feet of me.

‘I’ll get you a private dance. Call it an early birthday present,’ Dermot offers, tapping his finger against his glass.

‘My birthday is six months away.’

‘That’s why I said it’s anearlybirthday present.’ Dermot rolls his eyes.

‘Thanks, but no thanks.’

‘What the fuck, man? Who even are you?’ he tuts, refocusing on the brunette.

My phone lights up on the table.

I snatch it up before Dermot can see the screen and question why his sister is texting me at midnight on a Saturday night.

Ivy: You can look, but don’t even think about touching, or it’ll be me tying you to the bedposts and I won’t be nearly as generous with the orgasms.

My cheeks lift as a ridiculous smile cracks open my face. I force my lips straight, sneaking a glance to check Dermot is still occupied before typing out a reply.

Is that a promise?

Three dots appear instantly.

Ivy: Try me…

Is that jealousy I detect?

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