Page 16 of Turn Me On

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“About time you came to your senses,” Brad’s condescending voice boomed as he crossed the threshold.

He straightened his sleeves, toying with his diamond cufflinks for a moment, before glancing up. And what did he do when our eyes connected?

He goddamn smirked.

“Oh. It’s you. I assumed it would be Charlie high-tailing it out of that porn-star suite to beg my forgiveness,” he scoffed.

One look at his lean frame, decked out in a three-thousand-dollar suit surely paid for by his daddy, versus my hulking mass, which lacked any clothing, and anyone could tell there was no contest. Still, this little prick had the audacity to act like I wouldn’t set him straight.

He ran a hand through his overly-styled hair. “Here to give back your sloppy seconds?”

I leaped across the front desk, cocked my fist back, and punched the motherfucker square in the jaw. He went down like a bag of bowling balls. Couldn’t even manage to stay upright, the twat.

Brad wiped the back of his palm across his mouth and stared down at it. A small smear of blood painted his hand. “You can be sure the owners will be hearing about this.”

“Andyoucan be sure,” Adam said, low and threatening, from behind me, “that the owners will not give a shit that a spoiled fuck like you got what you deserve.”

Relief washed over me. If anyone could take care of a problem at the club, it was Adam. Not that I needed any help when it came to disposing of a fuckwit like Brad, but the not-so-silent partner of The AfterGlow would handle it in a much more civilized way than I would.

If it were left to me, well...Charlie’s dope of an ex-boyfriend wouldn’t be moving right now.

Brad grabbed onto the corner of the deskand hauled himself to his feet. “You don’t speak for the entire board.”

The silver strands scattered throughout Adam’s dark hair glinted in the soft overhead lights of the space. He adjusted two of the tungsten rings he wore, turning them slightly, before raising his gaze to meet Brad’s. He studied him, taking his time, before replying, “My voice is the only one that fucking matters.”

“Rider!” my wife’s voice called out.

I spun on my heel and there was Charlie, wrapped in her robe, eyes bulging as she stopped a few feet from Brad.

“What is going on?” she asked, looking between the three of us.

“Enough, Charlie. Enough of your immature games,” Brad barked. “It’s time to come back to me and quit this vacuous pastime of yours once and for all. You know this neanderthal can’t compare to me. Break off your insane sham of a marriage and get back where you belong.”

I tensed, my hands balled into tight fists, ready for whatever she wanted me to do. All she had to do was look at me and I’d deckhim in the face again, leaving him spitting out his teeth on the floor.

Charlie was completely silent for a moment before she burst out laughing. “You can’t be serious.”

“I am. And if you don’t, I’m going to post that little video of you and your brawn-over-brains idiot husband that you sent me on the internet for all to see,” Brad sneered.

She cocked her hip and crossed her arms. “That’s it? That’s your big shakedown?”

Brad’s mouth flopped open and smacked closed, like an oxygen-deprived guppy.

She flipped her hair over her shoulder and smirked. “I posted that video myself three hours ago.”

“What? You did—why—wait, what?” Brad stammered.

And people thoughtmybrain was slow.

“Get out,” Adam growled.

Brad shook his head and finally closed his gaping mouth. “What are you going to do if I don’t? Let this imbecile”—Brad jutted his finger in my direction—“take another crack at me?”

Adam gave me the slightest nod, and I snapped my arm out and wrapped my handaround Brad’s throat. “If I ever catch you in here again, if you ever text Charlie another picture, if you ever eventhinkabout my wife, I will find you and make you pay.”

“I’m not scared of you,” he managed to gasp out as my fingers tightened around his scrawny neck.

“You should be. You should be terrified of any man who loves their woman as much as I do,” I rumbled, enjoying the feel of his body shaking in my grip more than I probably should.