Page 1 of Sinful Submission

…48 hours earlier

The bass hammeredthrough Club Fetish like a drumline while I tracked Santari’s every move. Her body rolled with the music, that rich mahogany silk skin shining amid the red and purple lights draping her overhead. Metal catwalks crisscrossed above the dance floor while my Omega Theta Tau brothers strolled and danced to the music. Usually, those fools would keep my attention occupied with their theatrics. Especially the twins Damien and Draven, who loved the challenge of pulling gorgeous women. And Lil Mike, who was being his usual self – elbowing Osirus and motioning to women they’d stopped to dance in front of. But my gaze was stuck on the Goddess in the middle of the dance floor, as were the attention of other men.

My jaw clenched as I watched three different vultures edge closer to Santari, their eyes hungry, their drunken stupor apparent.

Smoke drifted through laser beams cutting across the room, shining its light on different areas of gyrating bodies. I brought my glass to my lips, letting the bourbon coat my tongue. The burn didn’t ease the tension coiling in my muscles, and I knew I would need a night of unhinged sex or murder to relax me.

“You look ready to slaughter someone,” Cruz said, materializing at my shoulder.

I narrowed my eyes on the men closing in on her.

“I might.” I knocked back the rest of my bourbon, the ice clinking against my teeth as I slammed the glass on a nearby table. It cracked, and Cruz yanked it away before I could shatter it completely.

“For fuck’s sake,” he muttered. “Either kill someone or dance with her. You’re costing me money doing this shit.”

“As if you give a fuck.”

The music shifted to a darker tune with a heavy beat that made the floor vibrate beneath our feet. Santari moved through the crowd, her straight black silk press hair whipping around when she spun. It brushed across her shoulders and the bang covering her forehead created mystery over her eyes.

“She’s got half the club ready to risk death tonight,” Cruz said, nodding toward the bar where men stared openly. “More than usual.”

I cracked my neck. “Let them try.”

“Is that what you’re waiting for?”

“I’m waiting to see how far she pushes it.”

There was intention in the way she moved, how her hips waved, how she poked her ass out, and flipped her hair before training her eyes back on me. My dick grew stiff in my jeans.

Fuck.

I was trying to let her have a good time by not crowding her space, but I was losing the battle. And somehow, I felt like that was her intent.

“Storm is not himself,”Cruz said. “He’s been pacing at odd hours of the night — standing by the pool, staring off into space.”

“I noticed. Did you talk to him?”

“Briefly. He would mumble under his breath and walk off before we could discuss it.”

“And what was in his mumblings?”

“He thinks he made a mistake but can’t pinpoint where or how.”

This took my attention off Santari, and I cut my eyes at Cruz.

Storm, Cruz, and I were The Paradox—businessmen by day and hitmen by night. In our line of work, mistakes couldn’t be made, and I abhorred them.

“What kind of mistake?”

“Motherfucker, didn’t I say?—”

“Find out what it’s about.”

“I’ll let him figure it out. He’ll let us know if it concerns our operations when he does.”

I locked my jaw, nostrils flaring as I glanced at Omega Theta Tau then back at Santari.

She lifted her arms overhead, and the hem of her black bandaged dress rose just enough to reveal her red panties. From across the room, I could tell her nipples were hard as they pressed against the tight fabric, and that was enough to make my feet move.

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