Page 9 of Indulge
I pinch the bridge of my nose.
This isn’t going to go well. It never does letting a sub go. But this one, she behaves like we’re in a relationship with her. She wants dates. Cuddles. Which Reggie always dips out of, and I can see the disappointment on her face every time.
“Lyla isn’t going to be happy,” Drago says.
“See? Even Drago knows!”
Reggie’s eyes narrow.
“I’ll do the talking. She will be fine. I’m getting married, I’m not bringing Bella here when we are contractually tied to another woman. It’s not fair. And I want to keep my balls.”
Drago chokes on a cough.
“My future wife is a weapon against men, apparently,” Reggie confirms calmly.
Fuck, I can’t wait to meet her.
4
BELLA
“Champagne or vodka?” Louise asks as we push through the crush of bodies toward the bar.
“Water?” I deadpan.
She stops dead, heels sticking to the filthy floor, and spins on me like I’ve lost my mind.
“Champagne or vodka?” she repeats, slower this time, like I’m stupid.
I bite back a grin.
“Are you fucking with me, Bella?”
I flutter my lashes at her. “Maybe. I’m just tired, my feet hurt. I need a nap. And food.”
God, I could murder for a chicken wrap with some melted cheese.
She shakes her head, blonde curls flicking over her bare shoulder. “You know if you go home, that’s it, you’ll be shipped first class into the life of a housewife.”
“I know.” I nod, lips pressed tight. “Yes, I’m fully aware of my shitty situation here. I guess I’ll have a double vodka.”
Her lips curve into a satisfied smile. “There we go.”
She drags me back to the bar, and I rest my palm against the varnish-worn wood. The air reeks of perfume, sweat, and cheap liquor. This is one of my brother’s less established bars. Music pounds through the speakers, bass rattling the glasses stacked behind the counter.
The bartender’s eyes flick toward me, his mouth twitching as he sends a wink. I give him a little wave back, but before I can hold the smile, something sharp jabs into my spine.
“What the hell?” I hiss, straightening.
As the bartender drifts closer, I’m shoved again, harder this time, straight into Louise.
I whip around.
“Move.”
The voice belongs to a small, mean-looking girl with a face full of arrogance. Her smirk is smug, certain she’s already won.
I arch a brow, tone sharp and polite. “And why should I move? I was here first.”
