Page 99 of The Price of Forever

AXEL: Jesus Christ. Tell me you haven’t run into that award-winning POS.

I looked up just as Eli threw his head back in raucous laughter. Jade was delivering yet another round of shots. How much did this guy fucking drink?

SEVEN: I’m seeing lots of people out and about. Just want to make sure I’m briefed on all aspects of the family history. For Jordan’s safety.

AXEL: Appreciate that. Though I trust you’re still keeping it secret that she’s our sister?

SEVEN: Of course. Haven’t told a soul.

AXEL: Thank you. Eli is the definition of shit bag. Abused Cora for years, gaslit her, fucked her Pilates instructor under her nose. Damian dug up a whole history of mistresses he’s had, too. Even had to pay a few off. He’s an alcoholic, probable pill popper, just one of the most condescending motherfuckers you’ll ever have the displeasure of meeting. If you see him? Turn around.

SEVEN: Noted. Thanks for the intel.

I pocketed my phone, my gaze sliding back to Eli. Turning around wasn’t an option. Waiting until he left and disappeared from our orbit forever seemed to be the only choice.

The lights dimmed, and the music changed. Jordan’s show was about to start. When the first sultry thumps of a new song began, she emerged from backstage, practically gliding. Her hair was pulled into a high ponytail, streaked with neon colors. Her makeup was smokier than before, and she’d replaced the white mesh outfit she’d had on before with a shimmery teal outfit that was part corset, part bandages wrapped around her thighs and hips. She took to the pole immediately, hair flying, teal fabric flowing behind her. I’d just seen her twenty minutes ago, and she rode my cock a couple of hours before that, but somehow, she looked like a completely different person. One I’d never seen before.

A reverent hush fell over the club as she scaled the pole, and the music grew more intense. She was upside down and executing a controlled fall, slowly heading toward the ground, until the beat changed and she snapped her legs around the pole. When she spun around, seemingly clutching the pole only with her pussy, her arms splayed behind her and her tongue hanging out the side of her mouth, the entire club erupted in cheers. Eli sprang from his seat, cupping his hands around his mouth as he shouted something unintelligible. He rummaged around in his pockets for a moment, then stalked closer to the stage.

I drifted toward his table, keeping a close eye on him as he stood at the edge of the stage, head tipped back, to watch Jordan like an adoring fan. He hooted and hollered as she performed, throwing bills onto the stage alongside a few other men. But what he threw were fifties and hundreds, not singles or fives like the others.

Jordan enthralled and bewitched every horny motherfucker in the club as she danced. Hell, it was hard for me not to get caught up as well. But Eli needed to be monitored. If I had a good enough reason, I’d be escorting him off the premises by now. Simply being Cora’s ex wasn’t enough, unfortunately.

The longer Jordan performed, the more raucous Eli became. He’d thrown roughly a grand onto the stage by the time Jordan’s show wrapped up. As the music faded and Jordan smiled out at the thunderous applause, Eli leaned over the stage and shouted something. It was loud enough that I heard it, but I couldn’t make out the words. Jordan’s gaze snapped to him quickly, her brows knitting together. Eli waved her closer. She knelt down as he said something to her—she laughed a moment later, gave him a coy response, and began collecting her tips from the stage floor. Eli turned and walked back to the table, looking pleased with himself.

I wandered off once he plunked his ass back in the chair. When Eddie showed up a moment later, I already knew what was coming. After Jordan collected her take from the stage, Eddie met her near the small set of stairs leading to the floor. A whisper, a nod, and then Jordan followed him.

My gut plummeted as the table of five stood. Eddie and Jordan met the group in front of the VIP room I’d fucked Jordan in hours before. But instead of one trustworthy man in there with her, it was five douchebags who I wouldn’t trust with a microwave oven, let alone with someone as special as Jordan.

Jordan disappeared inside the VIP room with the group before I could bolt over there to stop them. Not like it would matter. This was her job, one that I had to let her do, no matter how much the ensuing half hour to forty-five minutes felt like nails against a chalkboard.

I posted up right outside the door, leaning in close to listen for any signs of foul play. As far as Jordan knew, these guys were just her regular clientele. I didn’t presume she knew the entire backstory of Cora, especially if she’d barely kept up with news on her brothers.

Every minute that passed took twice as long. Thirty minutes turned into forty-five. Every second that went over the usual limit sent me closer to the edge of no return, where I’d burst into the VIP room and start peeling men off her, one by one. When they hit the hour mark, the door finally swung open, and the first men began trickling out. Red-faced, happy, and a little off-balance. Eli walked by, finally not scowling. Well, good for him. Then he paused, turned back toward Jordan, meeting her in the doorway. He held a business card between his fingers, passing it to her with a whispered something in her ear. Then he strode off.

Jordan looked at me, flushed and ecstatic. Hundreds poured from her bra, the straps of her heels, the bottoms of her pants.

“Seven,” she hissed. “I just made five grand!”

I blinked. “That’s…” I couldn’t say anything positive. If anything, it was a tolerable one-off occurrence. “What did that guy just hand you?”

She seemed confused for a moment. Then she held up her hand, producing the card. “Oh. I don’t know.” She studied both sides of it, then huffed. “His number. He wants me to call.”

Hard pieces clicked together inside me, forming an image I didn’t like to look at. “Do you know who that guy is?”

“Some wealthy dudebro who wants to give me all his money?”

“It’s Eli Rossberg. Cora’s ex.” When her brows began drawing together, I added, “The one that physically abused her.”

“Fuck.” Her throat bobbed and she looked up at me guiltily. “I didn’t realize.”

“I know that. But you won’t give him your number, will you?”

She gave me a duh look. “No. I know better than that.” She flicked the card and it fluttered to the floor. “But if he comes back I have to do my job. Until he actually tries something, I can’t refuse a client.”

Across the club, Eli and his entourage were packing up and heading out. He looked back at us one last time, his gaze searching for Jordan’s. Then he turned and one-by-one, they all shuffled through the doors.

Finally. My shoulders relaxed slightly. The night was over.

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