Page 93 of Bourbon Kingdom
She opened her mouth to retort, but then stopped herself while she thought of what to say. She crossed her arms over her chest and held her chin high as she said, “It was a low sidewalk, and it was hard to see. Anyone could have made the same mistake.”
“Okay,” I shook my head and grabbed her hand, pulling her into Diego’s place and leading her up to her room.
I could hear the slight beat of music playing in the main hall, letting me know Diego must be practicing one of his acts, something I very much wanted to watch at some point, not just because it interested me, but because he worked really hard at his club, and I’m sure he’d like to show off his hard work.
Goldie kicked and argued all the way up to her room, and once we were confined in the small area, she turned on her heels in a fit of rage.
“You can’t just manhandle me because you’re bigger than me.”
“Are you done?” I asked, waiting for her to explode even more.
“Am I done? Are you kidding me right now? No, I am not done. I want you to tell me why you think I’m a bad driver.”
“I told you why. You drove on a sidewalk, you almost hit a person, and you, by far, surpassed every speed limit in the French Quarter.”
“So?” she asked, looking adorably frustrated.
“So, you’re a bad driver, but that’s okay, because you still looked fucking hot driving my car.”
Bam, just like that the crease that was forming in her forehead vanished and her eyes lit up from my compliment. It wasn’t a lie; she looked hot as hell in her little green dress with her hair blowing in the breeze as she cornered my car around the narrow streets of New Orleans. It was a shame I was too terrified out of my mind to enjoy it.
“Well, I guess I can accept that,” she smiled.
“Good, now go get ready for bed. I’m going to go talk to Diego.”
“All right, but don’t be long.”
I raised an eyebrow at her and asked, “Do you have something special planned? Maybe you’re wearing something a little revealing tonight?”
“You wish,” she laughed at me. “I’m going to bed in a turtleneck and corduroys.”
“Have I told you how much a woman in corduroys at night turns me on? Might want to reconsider.”
“I’ll take my chances,” she laughed. “Now, hurry up.”
“Remember, little one, with great patience, comes great reward.”
“Fuck your patience,” she stated with a chasing smile as she walked toward the bathroom.
“Man-eater,” I mumbled to myself.
Needing to make things right with Diego, I left Goldie to herself, hoping she wouldn’t really be sporting a turtleneck when I got back, and found my way around Diego’s club. The man had impeccable design taste, and given the outside appearance of the club, you would never know it was so posh and sophisticated inside. I was quite proud of Diego for coming so far.
As the music grew heavier and vibrated against the narrow hallway I was walking down, light started to peek through, casting a red glow in the club, making it look almost sinister. The lights were set to coincide with the music, so with every pulse of the deep beat, a darker red light would flash, making it almost seem like the walls were bleeding. I was instantly fascinated.
The moment I turned the corner, I was presented with a view of Blane and Diego, bare-chested and wearing tight leather pants with top hats and ropes in their hands as they hovered around a girl who was comfortably hanging from the ceiling.
The scene in front of me was wildly erotic and something I didn’t want Goldie seeing, because I didn’t want her getting any ideas from being near these overly sexual men. Easily, they could steal her away from me, no doubt in my mind they had the potential to swipe my girl, a worry I faced every day.
I watched as Diego’s body moved smoothly with the music, while the red lights beat off his mocha skin. The man was fluid with his movements, gliding around the floor while twisting and turning with each switch of the music. I could see how successful the club could be, given the ringmaster in charge.
Diego spun on his heel and turned in my direction, where he stopped immediately once he saw me standing in the hallway watching him. As if I was an unwanted guest in his club, an intruder, Diego grabbed a remote from his back pocket, turned off the music, and turned on the lights.
“Dude,” Blane complained while covering his eyes. “You have to warn a guy before you blast the lights. My fucking pupils need a second to adjust.”
Without looking at Blane, Diego said, “Take down Marissa and help her lotion her wrists. Practice is over for tonight.”
Blane looked my way and quickly understood the instant tension that filled the room from my presence. Quietly, Blane undid Marissa and escorted her out of the room, leaving me alone with Diego. Not once did Diego’s eyes falter from mine while we waited for Blane to leave, a tactic I taught him when I first took him under my wing. Never back down; never show weakness.
