Page 67 of Damaged Mogul
I can’t handle having a spotlight shining bright on me. That’s what would happen if I were to step back into the club’s main room with Gage by my side.
He drops a chaste kiss against my lips. “Let me take you to the car and I’ll come back to fetch it.”
Chapter 18
Gage
Lily is all mine, and the single guys at Rhys’s party know it now.
It wasn’t my plan to mark my territory, but fucking Phoenix and Michaela König played me like a violin. Shame on me for walking into their trap.
Phoenix must have repressed desires to be an entertainment TV reporter. My so-called friend texted me a minute-by-minute account of Lily’s time at Rhys’s party.
I ignored him at first, unwilling to fall for his obvious taunting.
He upped the ante.
He sent me photos of Lily, angling his camera so I couldn’t miss her kickass gold heels or her dainty toes painted in a lovely shade of pink.
My desire for her ratchetted at rocket speed.
My cock approved, but I didn’t fall for the bait.
When I didn’t answer, he kept at it.
The next photo showed more of her slender legs.
The following one zoomed in on her shapely calves.
He kept inching up her legs and stopped right at the edge of her short-shorts.
The fucker knew what game he was playing.
When Michaela sent me a photo of Collin Dennison hovering over Lily, three things became clear.
One, Mr. and Mrs. König were in connivance, pushing their agendas with the same zeal as fucking politicians.
Two, with so many of our buddies in relationships, Collin Dennison remains a certified manwhore. I love him like a brother, but the man is like a dog after a bone when a woman catches his eye. A fresh face in our group is enough to send him into a tizzy.
Three, staying away from Rhys’s party was no longer an option.
For three years, my security system has been tighter than Fort Knox’s. I don’t let anyone in who isn’t part of my small circle of trusted friends. Not after the betrayal that shattered my world. I’m not sure what sorcery this woman possesses, but Lily Schuyler managed to cross all my wires last night.
Security has been breached.
The steel doors are open.
An invasion is imminent.
I should be calling the calvary for backup. Or better yet, the US Army. Instead, I got behind the wheel of my Wiesmann GT MF4, and drove my sports car like I stole it, a hot spear of jealousy tearing throughme.
I’m surprised the LAPD didn’t pull me over and slap my ass with a speeding ticket. Lucky for me, the club isn’t too far from my Beverly Hills mansion.
I cut the engine, jumped out of my car, flung my keys to the valet, and headed to the front door, nodding at the bouncers posted at the entrance.
I busted inside Club SIX10 with the same urgency as aman entering a bar after being in jail for a decade. Sometimes a guy needs to piss around a woman like a fucking dog to ward off others.
I take my role seriously.
