Page 66 of Bourbon Deceit
“You really did,” I said with a chuckle, making him smile.
“I’m sorry.”
“You owe me.” I played with his tie.
“Can I start making it up to you tonight?”
“Hmm . . . can I tie you up and have my way with you?”
“Fat chance in hell, little one,” he said while pinching my ass and guiding me to the back stairs that led up to the third floor.
Chapter Twenty-Two
“Faith”
GOLDIE
Silence circulated through the car as I drove with Jett over to Diego’s new club with some of my possessions, mainly clothes. I only had two suitcases, but it felt like my whole life. This was not what I wanted at all, and it all felt like the beginning of the end, so to say I wanted to throw up was an understatement. I was sweating, I was terrified, I didn’t want to leave him. He was a constant solid in my life now that I depended on and to not have him near me, to have to act like he meant nothing to me was like twisting a knife into my heart.
The streets were barely lit and there were still some late-night partiers scattered along the sidewalks of New Orleans. Soft lanterns lit up the roads, casting a glow on the trash left over from the night’s shenanigans. When Jett said I had to leave “tomorrow,” he’d apparently meant first thing tomorrow, because we were riding around at three in the morning. He said we couldn’t do this in the middle of the day if I wanted him to get me situated, which I understood, but it was all happening so fast. I didn’t even get to say goodbye to the girls, or to Kace, for that matter. Not that I really wanted to say bye to the giant asshole that graced the hallways of the Lafayette Club, but it would have been nice to have the option.
My hand was entwined with Jett’s as we rode in silence. I knew he could sense my uneasiness so he sat close to me and would occasionally lean over to whisper in my ear or kiss me gently on the cheek.
The car came to a stop as we sat in an abandoned back alley. We weren’t on Bourbon Street, but we were in the French Quarter, and not the nicest part. This was where his club was?
“This is just the back entrance,” Jett murmured, as if he could read my mind. “The club’s front sits on Royal Street and is marked by a plain door. Only the people who are a part of Diego’s secret society will know about it.”
“Sounds intriguing. Are we near Burgundy Street?” I asked, looking around.
“Yes.”
I nodded my head, able to place my surroundings. Royal was one street parallel with Bourbon and was considered to be the fancier street in the French Quarter, with little boutiques and galleries. It was odd, to travel from Bourbon Street, where drinkers were pelvic thrusting each other and watching street performers, to Royal, where ladies in sweater sets perused galleries that sold pieces of artwork for thousands of dollars. Only in New Orleans.
The car door opened and I reluctantly got out. Our driver grabbed my luggage and led us up the rickety back stairs of Diego’s club.
When we reached the top, I saw a dark silhouette standing in the doorway, waiting for us.
“Diego,” Jett said, reaching his hand out.
“Jett, good to see you.”
“Thank you for helping me out,” Jett said quietly.
“Helping you out? Are you kidding me, I will be putting this little girl to work. Come in.” Diego winked at me and led the way into his club.
It was nothing compared to the grandiose Lafayette Club. It was a step up from Kitten’s Castle, but I would be slumming it for sure compared to what I was used to now, which was ridiculous. I should have been happy, because Diego’s club was beautiful, it just wasn’t the Lafayette Club.
We walked down a long, dark hallway that had multiple rooms attached to it. The walls were a deep red with a chair railing halfway up them. On the bottom half of the wall, it was painted black and from what I could tell, the floors were black as well. I was really intrigued.
Lights started to ignite throughout the room through gas lanterns—were those allowed indoors? As the light filled the room, I took in my surroundings. We were standing in a circular room with tables lining the outside of it. To the back was a giant, curved bar that lined the room and in the ceiling were circular apparatuses, like we had at the Lafayette Club, but there were so many more.
“Welcome to Cirque du Diable,” Diego said as he held out his hands.
“Wow,” I breathed in, taking in my surroundings.
Long, blood-red velvet drapes cascaded down the walls and were tied together where there were doorways. We were standing on a dirt service, which was interesting to see in an indoor environment, but I was getting the whole vibe. It was like a vintage circus and at that moment, a little bit of excitement blossomed in me.
“Diego, you’ve really outdone yourself. The place looks amazing,” Jett complimented as he looked around.
