Page 132 of Speak

Maverick shrugs, clearly picking up the vibe in the room, Damon giving a tight-lipped smile, silver eyes watching. “That’s too bad. You’d break records.”

Jonas nods and I can’t let him go to the game with that feeling in his chest so I turn to him to sign.You’ll be the best lawyer. And you’ll come home to me every night and get to tell me about your day.

This perks him up. “And I’ll get to come home to you every night, huh?”

I bite my lip, another nod as I stand on my tiptoes to kiss my mountain of a man.

“Okay, I have to go. I’ll tell the stadium to keep tickets for you at will call. I love you. Please wear something warm. And your boots. It gets cold, okay?”

I nod and send him on his way with another kiss.

______

Yellow Jackets win – 21-17.

______

Getting away from my guys wasn’t as difficult as I thought it was going to be.

It’s my second week dancing in my cage at Inferno. I’m up high, slowly being lowered to a center-top, to be ogled as I sway my hips. This time, I’ve gone with a more revealing gold and black bodysuit except I had to tape up my breasts so they don’t spill out.

Last weekend, a song started in my head, louder than the music around us when Thadd came in, made eye contact on his way to the bar, ordered, watched me dance, and took the other girl up to the fourth floor with him instead. The only difference between her and I was she was wearing less and according to her chart, had less boundaries. Which was hardly any.

I wasn’t changing my boundaries, instead I was wearing less, dancing a little sluttier, letting myself move to the music.

Which works.

BecauseStephen fucking Prescottstands in front of my cage for thirty minutes, chilling aquamarine eyes taking in every inch of my body, watching me move. When he reads my chart he twists his mouth to the side, quirks a blonde brow up and motions for one of the bartenders to release me.

“Chloe, is it?”

I nod as he helps me down from the cage. Standing before him even in my boots, he still towers over me. He smells delicious and for an older man he is still extremely handsome. But wasn’t Lucifer the most beautiful angel? He takes a strand of my already curled hair and wraps it around his finger, his thumb glides over as if to test out how soft it is and the drops the strand. “Come.”

Before I can hesitate, he takes my hand in his, large, the underside smooth except for a few callouses I can feel where he probably grabs dumbbells. I whirl and catch sight of two masked men standing against the wall, watching this play out. Silver eyes like melting glaciers behind one, eyes like a forest behind the other. Two completely different men, both equally dangerous.

While Jonas looks bothered, Damon looks intrigued, he takes the tumbler he’s holding, and tilts it to me, saying something to Jonas, with his lips behind the glass, I can’t exactly read what he says but Jonas nods, getting off the wall and following us through the crowd, keeping a few feet of distance between us.

A calm runs through me, knowing at least one of my men will be with me, to protect me if anything goes wrong, which it shouldn’t. I’m just gathering intel. But as soon as we step onto the fourth floor, that music in my head begins to play. I keep my hand in Stephen’s, letting him lead me to one of the tabletops with a pole as he plops down, next to Simon Hoover, both Thaddeus Whitmore and his son, Mr. Anderson, and John fucking Monroe, my stepfather.

Stephen pulls me onto his lap, hand on top of my thigh, squeezing as though he needs the feel of soft skin to ground him. Through the mesh in the holes of my mask, I watch Jonas perch at a table close to us just as Axel arrives, unbuttoning his suit jacket and sitting next to us. I twist, settling further into his lap, draping an arm over his shoulders, putting the other hand on his chest, pulling his navy tie loose, unbutton three of the opal buttons on his shirt and let my hand venture into his shirt, touching the dark blonde thatch ofhair on his chest. He seems surprised by my forwardness, but he welcomes it, growing hard under my thigh.

Stephen Prescott exudes power, his presence alone demands respect as all eyes at the table are on him, as he rubs up and down, going from my thigh to my waist and back. He leans further into my touch as a waiter comes and takes their drink orders. He asks if I want one but I ignore it, instead I lean further into him, letting my lips trail butterfly-soft kisses against his neck. He grips my hip as he takes a sip from the drink he still has.

“Now gentlemen, while this is not the appropriate place or time, there is still the matter at hand. My only heir is dead, my nephew is on house arrest, and my other nephew died as well.”

“There haven’t been any other attacks since Tyler’s murder.”

They know he was murdered. How?

I stiffen but Stephen still continues to caress me, large hand gripping tightly, as if he doesn’t notice, the muscles in his jaw ticking. “Yet.” Is the only word he says, the table goes silent as their drinks are handed out and the waiter leaves. “The only heir to the Prescott fortune is either slowly losing his mind or he’s telling the truth.”

“He attacked Raven prior to the fire.” Axel defends. “With no real proof.”

“Riordan also suggested the Anderson boy.”

“My son was out on your business during one incident, helped your boy before the second incident and continues to do your dirty work to this day. If you didn’t trust him, why would you continue to have him be your lackey?” henry spits, defending his son.

Oh, Jonas. I want to groan but I bite my tongue and nudge my nose along Stephen’s neck. This is when Stephen grips me and pushes me off him. “Dance, butterfly.”

---