The Billionaire’s Valentine Vixen by Wyatt, Dani (electric book reader .TXT) 📕

moment if it’s him, but he clears his throat as he draws near. “Al’s running a little late. Sorry. Says to wait here at the bar. Drink’s on Al.” He’s clearly a man of few words, as he clicks his fingers at the bartender, who sidles over with a grin.

“What are you having?”

A rumble of irritation tightens my throat, and I grit my teeth. If the brooch didn’t have the name of one of my own great-ancestors on it I’d walk out of here right now and forget it. But as it is, I sigh and mutter, “Glenlivet.”

“Man, we have Cutty Sark and Dewars.”

“Dewars then,” I half snap, I don’t care.

“Sure thing.”

With that, the bartender is gone, and I’m sure he read on my face that I’m in no mood to talk. He places a napkin on the bar a moment later, the glass with two fingers of amber liquid inside, and walks away without a word, which I appreciate.

I sip the scotch, ignoring the girl on the stage and not bothering to turn when the new dancer is announced. Cherrie, I think I hear the DJ say as the crowd thrums and hoots with appreciation. It makes me feel kind of sorry for them.

In fact, it’s not until I hear a laugh and a couple of voices carry to my ears that I even pay any attention at all.

“How much to get a private dance from Cherrie?”

“Ha, she’s fresh and clean, I’m breaking her in tonight.”

“Fuck. How much for me to break her in for you?”

“Nah, she’s a nervous one. Let me start her off, then we’ll talk.”

A laugh. “Oh, come on, man, it’s not like I haven’t had them reluctant before. I know how to convince them. I like a little fight before I fuck.”

That’s when I see red. Fucking disrespectful pieces of shit. Who talks about a woman like that, like she’s a piece of meat?

A second later, I’m slamming my glass down on the bar and turning to see two guys, one nasty looking with a blind eye and a two-thousand dollar suit, the other looking like a scumbag who’s about to get his face redecorated in blood red.

The music is loud and the girl on stage carries on dancing, the music pulsing as she twirls around, bending over, oblivious in a lacy black bra and thong, the pink hair of her wig tossing into her face as she twists and bounces.

“Who the fuck are you?” says the second scumbag when he sees me marching their way, and the scar-faced one turns in my direction, but that’s just at the same time as the stripper grabs hold of the metal pole, swivels on a toe and brings her ass into clear view.

And I see her birthmark.

Fuck.

Fuck.

My mind is thrown into overdrive as my focus centers on her left ass cheek. It can’t be. She’s with her sister. But no matter how much I argue with myself, there’s no denying it. It’s her. It’s Alice.

The two scumbags forgotten, I find myself storming the stage, throwing patrons out of the way left and right. There are screams and shouts, fists fly, but I ignore them all. I’ll kill everyone in this place if necessary to get to her, to cover up the body that was made for me, for my eyes, for my touch.

I hear a shout as the guy that approached me earlier runs her way. “Al, get back, this way, quick!”

I growl at him but it’s no use. He was closer to her and he reaches her long before I can, pulling her down off the stage.

Al.

Alice.

Of course. It starts to make sense in my mind. Fuck, why didn’t she tell me? So she was the one selling the brooch? If I’d known I would have given her the asking price. Fuck, I would have given her the world.

“Roan?” Her eyes go wide as she realizes it’s me, even as she’s pulled back down off the other side of the stage, lowered to the floor. I hate that the big guy, who’s clearly a bouncer, is touching her, but perversely I appreciate his care but he needs to get his fucking hands off her. “Roan, what are you doing here? I’m sorry! I’m… Please don’t look at me like that!”

“Hey, dick head.” I hear the voice from the side of me just before something very hard and heavy strikes the side of my head and I see stars, but it was only a glancing blow. The guy clearly never played pro.

I grab the baseball bat out of his hands and raise it, and he sensibly steps back out of my field. It’s the fucker with the white eye, and his lips are twisted in a snarl even as he retreats into the chaos I see all around us.

“She’s mine, you dick,” he says. “All of them are my girls. You want private time with her, you pay like everyone else.”

I growl and step forward before he can react, grabbing his shirt collar and pulling him to me. “The fuck she is.”

My punch lands square in the middle of his face, and blood flies out to the side. I release him, but land a blow to his stomach, making him crumple forward, right where my knee happens to be.

As he falls back, I turn, forgetting all about him, scanning the room for Alice, but she’s nowhere to be seen. I know where she was though, and the only place she could have vanished to is a side entrance with a dirty emergency exit sign hung above it.

* * *

I’m outside a moment later, just in time to see Alice’s pea coat and her bare legs disappearing into the back of a beat-up old Honda. I see a woman’s face in the driver’s seat but she also sees me and I hear the engine rev.

Oh, hell, no. I’m not going to let her disappear on me.

I’m sure she expects me to get out of the way