Page 2 of Iron
My phone was vibrating in my pocket and I automatically pulled it out. It was late but that didn’t mean much in this kind of lifestyle.
The name that flashed on the screen caused my eyes to blink.
Was I that drunk?
I looked back to see the beer sitting in front of me still half full.
I didn’t normally get drunk because I had to keep my head about me.
That wasn’t saying that I didn’t from time to time. Especially when things were too intense.
My eyes slid back to my screen and I jumped to swipe the answer button before the call got sent to voicemail.
I had a feeling that I’d only get one chance and I sure as hell wasn’t going to pass it up.
Only as I put the phone up to my ear, I couldn’t think of a damn thing to say.
I hopped off the stool so fast I nearly knocked the thing over. It was too damn loud but that wasn’t why I started to pound pavement to the back stairs. The line remained silent the whole way up to my apartment on the second floor of the clubhouse. Once the door shut behind me, I was enveloped in a muted version of what I’d been in downstairs.
I still said nothing.
It could have been that I was a bit nervous and didn’t want to fuck this up.
“Come. Now,” she said then hung up.
It wasn’t a request.
It was a demand and I knew what would happen if I didn’t jump to it.
The thing was, I wanted to. Like a sad, lost puppy dog looking for an owner.
I hopped on my bike and tore across town without a single bit of hesitation.
One of her bodyguards was there waiting for me the moment I parked my bike in front of the newly fixed-up building.
He said nothing as he led me to the elevator that I’d taken a time or two up to Petra’s office. But this time, he hit a different button and once we reach the tenth floor, he put his thumb up to the fingerprint scanner that I’d never noticed before.
The doors opened and I stepped around him into what looked like a penthouse.
A penthouse decorated in white and subtle golds and blacks.
A very Petra feeling place.
The doors closed behind me and I was alone.
Except I quickly realized that I wasn’t.
“Strip.” Her voice told me as the sound of her heels clicked over the marble floor in my direction.
My head slowly turned to the left so that I could take her in.
She was dressed like always, perfectly put together in shit that probably once held a price tag that would make me sick.
She reached me and I still hadn’t moved, though it wasn’t easy. Something in her tone always made my body respond in the way that I would give in to every demand she ever spat at me. Her tits were nearly close enough to brush against my arm.
Her brow raised at me as if she couldn’t believe that I was still standing there.
“I need something first,” I said coolly.
