He politely did this for me without any judgment in his expression. But even after I was fully covered up again, my heart couldn’t stop beating erratically.
“I can’t believe I did that,” I said again, this time in a whisper.
“It is a good thing,” he assured me, his voice severe and quiet. “After that display, there will be no doubt of my claim.”
He was right about that, as it turned out. K Diamond was gone when we returned to the bar area, along with my bag of money. So I guess he had no doubts that the Fae King’s “claim,” as he called it, was completely legit.
But that didn’t mean the uncomfortable part was over. Several of the guys from both the casual and suit crews were still lingering around the bar area. A couple of the suits were lazily tossing bills at a full-on naked girl twerking to “Hot Girl Summer.” She also appeared to be what my Filipino mother sometimes referred to as “Black Asian.” And she wore her hair down in a long weave as opposed to in a sturdy ponytail like me.
But other than that, she could’ve been me. I could be dancing completely naked for dollars right now, if not for the mysterious Fae King’s intervention.
She didn’t register us as we walked by. But the suits openly stared at me as I was escorted out of the club by their leader, along with quite a few men from the casual crew. It was obvious they all knew what had just happened in that back room.
Fortunately, my abject embarrassment was the only price of getting out of Aloha Ballers.
No one tried to stop us, and a few of the suits even gave my guide head nods as we passed by. Their nods weren’t casual either. They were similar to head bows, almost formal, and definitely deferential.
I glanced sideways at my mysterious escort. Maybe he really was a Fae King. He radiated power, maybe even more than K Diamond—what had he called him?
Oh yeah, Kuang Jr., as if he considered him a little boy and not an apparent crime boss who ran both gambling and sex trafficking rackets.
I didn’t dare to ask any questions as we made our way out. It was much later now, and there was a line of people—mostly tourists—waiting to get into Aloha Ballers.
But as soon as we were in the parking lot, away from the crowd, I whipped around to ask the mysterious Fae King, “Okay, who are you?”
He appeared to think about my question, his eyes going sideways as if the answer were more complicated than giving me a simple name. Then instead of answering, he said, “I believe the two words you’re looking for are thank you.”
He might be right about that. My mother stayed riding me about my terrible manners. And Brad’s former agent actually brought in a coach to teach me how to act nice and polite for interviews in order to “better represent” my then-boyfriend’s brand.
But I answered the guy I just not-so-dry-humped with the truth. “I’m still trying to decide if you’re my savior or my mistake.”
He lifted an eyebrow. “Do you always speak your private thoughts out loud like this?”
“Pretty much, yeah,” I answered without any apology whatsoever. “So what does this mean? For my father? For me?”
The eyebrow went down, but the disapproving look stayed. “Your father is safe, but he should not come here again. Let him know if he does, there will be trouble.”
I nodded in quick agreement. “It was a one-time thing. He was desperate to take control back of his life, and he made a stupid decision.”
“Yes, very stupid. Yet, you came here and put yourself in danger for him anyway.” His voice rang with condescension and judgment.
I bristled. “What other choice did I have? He’s my father.”
The Fae King didn’t answer. He just looked down his nose at me, making it clear that he thought both my father and I were idiots.
And I found myself asking again, this time needing to know, “Why did you do this? Why did you pay all that money for me?”
He regarded me, his eyes icy and black.
“You’re mine now,” he said. As if it was a simple fact. Like oxygen and gravity and the sky above our heads.
You’re mine now.
Alarm bells. So many alarm bells went off in my head.
“What…what does that mean exactly?” I asked, trying but failing to not sound scared.
Instead of answering, he simply pulled a phone out of his inside pocket and held it out to me. “Here, take this.”
I looked down at the phone he offered me instead of a reasonable answer. It was the latest iPhone and a lot sleeker than the old Samsung Galaxy I got when I competed in the Vans Triple Crown back in that other life I could barely remember now.
