Page 15 of Submitting to Daddy
He might be quiet, but fuck… he’s always two steps ahead. My face contorted in a scowl, I shoot him a warning look. “You got something to say?”
“Hey… Not judging”—he raises both hands in mock surrender, waving a white bar towel in one of them—“She’s… well… She’s something fucking else.”
“She’s just a dancer.”
“She’s notjustanything,” Enzo adds, appearing on my other side, sipping a Negroni.
I glance between the two of them, noticing that we have garnered the attention of the bar-back and at least two of the customers across from me. “This isn’t the place for this conversation.”
I head toward the owners’ booth, my boots heavy against the polished black floors, just like my thoughts. Security parts the velvet rope as I approach. I sink into the velvet chair at the end, as far away from the buzz of the club as I can get. Enzo and Nikolai follow, because, of course, they do.
“We don’t keep secrets from one another,” Enzo admonishes, taking the seat beside me.That’s rich…As though I have no control over them, I roll my eyes at him. “Exceptthat. And I apologized. And you know I fucking love her.” I can’t argue with him, because I know with certainty he’s going to make himself my brother-in-law as well as my brother-in-arms sooner rather than later.
“Don’t pretend you’re not already involved with her.” Nikolai chuckles. Everything in this place—every light, every curve of marble and velvet, every dancer, song, and smile—it’s all calculated and controlled. A machine we’ve built to serve a very specific purpose: indulgence for the wealthy, sanctuary for the corrupt, and a perfect mask for laundering the bloody money on our hands. There’s no room for distractions—especially petite brunette ones with lips I want to taste and curves I can’t stop thinking about running my hands over. As though he can read my thoughts, he goes on, “Between the way you look at her and your obsession with her security footage, she’s clearly something to you.”
“She’s not—” I stop myself, because denying it feels stupid. And they’re both already staring at me with knowing smirks. They know me. Better than anyone. They’re not just my friends. They’re my brothers. They’ve seen what I do when I get obsessed with something.Or someone.They’ve both been watching me unravel since the first night Madison stepped on our stage—both of them would need to be blind not to see that Madison has clearly gotten under my skin.
And more so, Iamobsessed.Completely and utterly…My compulsion has ventured well past watching security footage.I’ve delved into her past. She’s smart and educated—and could be doing so much more with her life than working the pole, giving drunks lap dances, and having strange men slippingbills into her panties. She’s better than this life.Better thanmylife…She doesn’t belong here.But fuck, she fits in seamlessly well.
“Deny it all you want,” Enzo interrupts my thoughts, “but it’s obvious as fuck to everyone in here.”
Fuck…
She finishes a lap dance on the main floor, and I cross the room before she has a chance to get involved with another customer. I place my hand on her shoulder as I approach, and she startles slightly. “We need to talk.”
She spins around, staring up at me with big, dark, unreadable eyes and exclaims, “Now!?”
“Yes.” My response is firm, not offering any opportunity for discussion.
With a slight shrug of her shoulders and an overt roll of her eyes, she lets out a heavy breath. “Fine.”
The simplest of requests, and it’s met with bratty defiance. She’s the first person I’ve met in a long time—excluding my sister—who has the gall to constantly push back to practically everything I say. It’s aggravating as hell, but she challenges me, and part of me loves that nothing with her is easy.
I steer her toward the hallway near the DJ booth and past the heavy doors that lead to a private stairwell. Beside it is a small office that we barely use—soundproof and windowless. I unlock the door and gesture for her to go inside. For a moment, she looks at me curiously before stepping into the small room. After pushing the door shut behind us, I lean against it and fold my arms across my chest. The tension between us in this confined space is palpable. She slowly turns to face me. “You shouldn’t be here,” I mutter.
Madison raises a brow and snarks, “Here… as in this room? Or here, as in the club?”
“Both,” I exhale.
“That’s not your call.”
“The fuck it’s not,” I unintentionally raise my voice at her resistance.
She crosses her arms in response. “Fine. It’s your club. If you don’t want me here, then fucking fire me.”
“I don’t want you fired,” I grit.
She sucks in a deep breath. “Then whatdoyou want, Cillian?”
I love the way my name sounds rolling off her tongue. It’s sinful, and I want to hear it again—only louder, screaming it as she comes with those long legs wrapped around my waist.Fuck… Reel it in, Cillian.“I want to know what the fuck you’re doing.” I rush forward before I can stop myself, and for the first time, her armor falters. She cowers ever so slightly before quickly regaining her confident demeanor.
Lifting her chin and refusing to back down, she insists, “I’m working.”
“The way you dance, you could’ve worked anywhere.” I shake my head, quickly losing myself in her dark eyes. “And who in their right mind busts their ass to earn a dual master’s in Psychology and International Studies to work the fucking pole?”
Her eyes widen at my confession that I’ve dug into her past beyond the minimal information she listed on her résumé. “If you must know, this pays a lot more,” she sasses. “I’m fucking good at it. I might as well take full advantage of this body I was given.”
I stare down at her, my breathing growing heavy. “This place is a house of wolves. And you walked in with a sweet smile… All defenseless and acting like these men wouldn’t bite.”
