Page 88 of Sadistic

"See?" Charm points her drink at me. "That's the kind of devotion you want in this life. None of that wishy-washy bullshit."

By nine o'clock, we're all back in the suite, dressed up and several drinks in.

Rhiannon's corralled us into the living room, chairs arranged in a semicircle.

She's even dimmed the lights and set up colored spotlights she got from Gods know where.

"Ladies!" she announces, wearing a "Dishonorable Bridesmaid" sash she made for herself. "Prepare yourselves for some premium entertainment!"

The door opens and six men walk in.

Not just any men—these are Greek god level specimens, all muscle and smoldering looks.

They're dressed as various professions—cop, fireman, businessman, construction worker.

It's cheesy and perfect.

One catches my eye immediately.

Tall, dark hair, green eyes that remind me of?—

"Fuck me, that one looks like Doran," Dalla whispers.

She's right. It's uncanny.

Same build, same coloring, same dangerous energy.

"Did you do that on purpose?" I hiss at Rhiannon.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," she says innocently, but her grin says otherwise.

The music starts—something with a heavy bass that vibrates through my chest.

The dancers move in perfect choreography and I'm impressed.

These aren't just strippers, they're performers.

"Get it, Fern!" Charm cheers as one dancer focuses on my mother, who's covering her face but peeking through her fingers.

"I can't!" Mom protests, but she's laughing harder than I've seen in years.

"Yes, you can!" Charm shoves bills in the dancer's waistband. "Show your daughter how it's done!"

The Doran lookalike zeroes in on me, probably recognizing the bride sash.

He holds out his hand, eyebrow raised in question.

"Go on!" Rhiannon pushes me forward. "It's tradition!"

I let him pull me into the center of our makeshift stage area.

Someone—probably Rhiannon—has placed a chair there.

He guides me to sit, then starts moving.

I have to admit, he's good. Really good.

His hips roll in ways that should be illegal, muscles rippling under stage lights.

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