“Are you working right now, or are you here for play?” I asked.
“It depends. Do you want to play?”
I swallowed a dry gulp. If I wanted to do this, I had to commit one hundred percent. I put my sweater on the couch, then straddled him, grinding my hips into his lap, his cock twitching on contact. He smelled fresh, a minty hint to his cologne with an edge of his sweat underneath it. I grabbed the tie around his neck, pulling him sharply towards me.
“I want to play,” I breathed, “with your brain. With your mind. I want to know what your plans are. What you’re going to do with your next project.” I licked my lips. “Your mind turns me on.”
“You want to flip clubs like this?”
“Yes,” I lied. “Tell me.”
He grabbed my throat in one hand, pinching my mouth and chin together with the other. My chest tightened and my body rolled with heat. My thighs clenched. I was on top, still straddling him, looking down into his face, and yet in that position, I wasn’t in control. He was holding onto me. Controlling my air. My life.
“Tell me, Iris,” he said in a low voice, “Is seducing the new owner part of your job at the Dahlia District?”
I blinked my eyes, trying to wrap my head around his words. His eyes stretched, gazing at my mouth, then down to my breasts. He let go of me, letting his hands fall to the sides, resting on my calves.
“You know who I am?” I asked. He nodded. “You knew who I was this whole time?”
“From the moment they checked your ID.”
My blood boiled. He knew, and he let me do all of that?
“You knew I worked at the Dahlia District?”
“Dahlia told me about you,” he said. He massaged my calves as if this were nothing. As if I truly were one of the many gold-digging women at his disposal. I didn’t want to like the way he played with my calf muscles, but it felt good. Really good. I forced a scowl at him. “She said you were one of the best,” he said.
“Did she?”
“And she said you were not looking forward to the transition.”
His fingers kneaded my muscles deeper, and though it relaxed me and I didn’t want him to stop, I slid back into the empty seat beside him. There was no point in seduction if he knew my position.
“What are you going to do to the Dahlia District?” I asked.
“Simple,” he grinned. “Change it into a nightclub.”
I gestured around us. “Is that smart, with Vanish Sage City, this close?”
“It’ll be part of my new brand,” he said, a cocky smile on his lips. “Departure. A nightclub exclusively for the wealthy.” He tilted his head. “Sort of like the Dahlia District is now. But better.”
He had no idea how much money the club brought in when we were at our height.
“It’s lucrative already,” I snapped.
“Not as much as it could be.”
“The club is actually doing really well the way it is. You could even—” I thought hard, biting my lip before I said this, “You could even charge an initial fee for the use of the private rooms. By that alone, you’d make a killing.” I crossed my arms. “I’m telling you, the Dahlia District doesn’t need any changes.”
“That’s not the way I see it.” A seriousness crossed his face, shadowing it. “There’s a lot of potential in the Dahlia District. But I’m not interested in a sex club. It needs to be more. You want to attract more than the deviants, right? You want the mainstreamers too.” He nodded at me, assuming I agreed. “A nightclub exclusively for the wealthy is a good concept, and the Dahlia District will be my first experiment.”
I swallowed hard. Clenched my fists. Bobbed my head. Self-soothed. I didn’t need to get angry. This was a discussion. Only a discussion.
But I couldn’t help it.
“You’re making a mistake,” I said.
“You’re invested in the club, right?” he said. He tilted his chin. “Dahlia mentioned that you thought of it as your home.”
“Because I literally live there,” I said. He stared at me, all of that playfulness gone. Maybe he was finally considering how it affected my life. My livelihood. My home.
“I think you’ll come to see my point of view,” he said. He cocked a brow. “Hell, I can even build an apartment next door if that’s what you need. Let’s discuss it on Monday.” He stood, straightening his jacket. “Right now, I have a meeting to attend.”
It was an excuse; I wasn’t good enough for his time right then.
But I wasn’t going to beg for his attention.
I stomped down the stairs. The bouncer immediately opened the rope and I pushed past him. Getting to the door of this place was like going through a jungle, but instead of trees and insects and breathable air, it was all sweat and human and too close for comfort. I slid past some strangers, their sweat getting on my arm, and I cringed. A man opened the entrance doors for me, and I flooded past a long line of manufactured beauty waiting to get in. I looked up at the sky, finding a dark canvas. Sage City was too bright to see stars, and with the new moon, there was nothing there. It was bleak. Empty. Like me.
“Iris,” a male voice called. I turned around, my shoulders sinking when I saw it was him. Roland Price. The giant man with the cocky grin constantly plastered to his face. He lifted my black sweater. “Don’t catch a cold now.”
I swiped it from his hand. A charitable, yet condescending action from a billionaire. Gee whiz, mister. Thanks so much.
“Thanks,” I said, forcing myself to be polite. I turned away and headed straight for Teagen’s car, not daring to look back. He might have been a billionaire, a handsome man, the new owner of the Dahlia District, but none of that meant anything to me. I didn’t trust many people, and I especially did not trust him.
CHAPTER 2
Roland
Iris’s chalky brown hair fluttered next to her ears as a breeze drifted through the parking lot. She walked like she hated the ground, each step forward harder than the last. Her tattoos were illuminated under the lampposts, dashes of bright color on her light skin. The scent of cranberry and oranges floated in the air, making me think of warmth, though she was far from it. Her voice in my memory, the sound equal parts silky and sharp, and yet vibrant too, like her words could punch through a door. She opened the door to an older car, and in the driver’s seat, she shot a glare at me before starting the engine.
That woman was a cherry bomb. Tight and compact, but full of power.
I ran a hand through my hair and turned back to the building, striding through the main entrance. A few people shouted my name, and I waved back, undercover security following me in close proximity. I had set up Vanish Sage City two years ago, but this was the first time I had been back. I preferred to be on the move. The only reason I was back was to take care of the Dahlia District, turning a once profitable private billionaires’ club—and let’s be honest, brothel—into a nightclub for those same men, but with a different mentality.