“Why the hell would you do that?”
I stuff my phone in my purse and pause on the dark sidewalk. We ate half of the cake in the car and I honestly could’ve kept going. I didn’t think it would settle well in my belly if I ate more cake and then had alcohol right after. Not a good thing at all. So, I controlled myself and focused on my conversation with JP, telling him all about where I’d seen my business going when I first started.
He sat there and listened the entire time, occasionally brushing his hand against my leg. I couldn’t figure out if he was doing it on purpose or if it was because he was still sitting in the middle seat when we were done with the cake. Either way, every light pass, every small touch, was like an ember starting to flame and burn harder, stronger.
“Why would I send a pin to my sister? Uh, have you looked around us? I’m in a dark alleyway where there are no lights on, and I’m with a man.”
“A man you know.”
“But do I know you, JP?”
“Enough that you should be conscious of the fact that I’d protect you over . . . whatever the hell is playing in your head.”
Arms crossed, I jut out a hip and say, “Okay, if someone came up to us right now and said they were going to take me away to their lair, what would you do?”
“What kind of fucked-up fairy tale are you living in?”
“Just answer the question.”
“Jesus.” He drags a hand over his face. “I’d tell him to get the fuck away, and if he didn’t, I’d probably introduce him to the ten years of boxing lessons I’ve been taking.”
Dear heavens, he boxes? That’s hot.
My eyes go to his chest. Hmm, that would explain some of those ripped muscles.
“Is that satisfactory to you?” he asks.
“I believe so.” I loop my arm through his and lean in close. “Now, where the hell are we going?”
“Over here.” He leads me down an alleyway to a metal door. He raps on the metal and after a moment, it opens. A large, burly man with a curly mustache steps into the alleyway with us.
He lifts a clipboard to his face and asks, “Name?”
“Jonah Cane,” JP answers. Jonah Cane. I like that, too. Especially since I feel like I’m seeing him as Jonah right now, not his Cane Enterprises persona of JP.
The bouncer makes a scratching mark on his clipboard and opens the door for us.
“Down the hallway, first door on the right. Wait to be seated.”
We head down the hall, and I quietly ask, “Do you often use your first name?”
“Sometimes,” he says.
“Do you like it if people call you Jonah?”
He glances down at me. His eyes fall briefly to my lips but then tear away and focus on the dimly lit hallway in front of us.
“Is there an answer to that?” I ask as we reach the door on the right. He doesn’t answer, but instead knocks on the door, and this time, when the door opens, a cacophony of conversations and soft music filters out into the hallway.
“Cane?” the attendant asks.
“Yup,” JP answers.
“Right this way.”
Clutching tighter to him, I ask just above a whisper, “Did you take me to a sex club?”
He chuckles but doesn’t answer.
The room is filled with people, every table is occupied, everyone with drinks in their hands, their faces lit up by a simple, short table lamp in front of them. The walls are covered in red velvet, the ceiling sprinkled with bulb lights, and there’s a raised stage at the very end of the room, covered in the same lavish red velvet and old-time lights that line the bottom of the stage.
What on earth is this place?
The hostess—I’m assuming that’s who she is—walks us to the only empty table in the room. Right at the front. “Hilary will be here momentarily to take your drink orders.”
“Thank you,” JP says. He pulls my chair out for me, takes my hand in his, and helps me as I take a seat. Then he slides his chair right next to mine. Talking quietly in my ear, he asks, “What do you want to drink?”
“Uh . . . not sure,” I answer as chills from his soft voice cover the back of my neck.
“Wine?” he asks, his lips dangerously close to my ear. “Or something stronger?”
“What, uh, what are you getting?” I ask.
“Scotch.”
“Nice order, a little strong for me, so a glass of cab would be fine.”
Hilary arrives just at the right time and takes our order before setting a bowl of trail mix in front of us. I glance around the room. The people at the other tables are all quietly talking to themselves, and I honestly can’t tell what’s going to happen on that stage.