Page 17 of Worthy: Cassius and Faith 3

Macy wore a completely sheer, red, floor-length gown with a slit up to her waist, revealing a red-lace thong. She looked sexy and beautiful and carried herself with a new confidence. Tate had decked herself out in her finest dominatrix gear, with her thigh-high black patent leather boots topped by a matching patent leather thong teddy. She looked like a tall, blonde, toned, patent leather goddess.

I almost didn’t recognize myself when I checked my reflection in the mirror. I looked older and more sophisticated, and my figure was lithe from the past few days of nonstop sex with Cassius Blackwood. I didn’t want to think about the icy billionaire or who I might see him with at the club. If I witnessed him having sex with someone else, I might scream.

Still, I plastered on a smile as my friends and I took the elevator to the club. Game face, Faith. Think about Lucas. I held on to the image of his doctor, telling me that my brother was a success story and that he would get better. I needed to stay focused—no matter what the evening brought.

The club was throbbing with a popular hip-hop song when we arrived. The debauchery was already in full swing. Girls were naked, twirling on the poles; the couches near the stage were packed with patrons being “serviced” with blow jobs, hand jobs, and lap dances. Couples already occupied several of the semi-private rooms; I heard a female crying out in the throes of an intense orgasm. My insides squirmed. I knew what that felt like now because Cassius had shown me.

I scanned the crowd for the icy billionaire, but he was nowhere to be seen.

“I guess the party already started,” Macy joked.

“Let’s get drinks and catch up,” Tate suggested, and Macy and I followed her through the crowd to the bar.

When we arrived, Beau, the bartender, grinned at us. He was an enormous older man with hulking shoulders, a big gray beard, and tattoos on his knuckles that spelled PEACE. “Ladies, how are we doing tonight? Are we looking for a White Wine Spritzer, a Shirley Temple, and a shot of Jameson?” he correctly guessed.

“Yes,” we said in unison. I was touched that he remembered our orders. As Macy accepted her spritzer, I thanked him for my Shirley Temple.

Without hesitating, Tate knocked back her whiskey. “Can I have another one, pretty please?”

“Absolutely, my friend. You got another busy schedule tonight?” Beau poured her another shot.

Tate nodded, grimacing as she downed her second drink. “I have a full waiting list. I need liquid courage.”

“I’ve got your back, Tate.” Beau nodded at her. “You come see me whenever you need more, bar’s always open at the club.”

“Thanks, Beau.” Tate favored him with a wide smile. “You’re the best.”

“I try.” But the bartender’s easy smile was replaced by a neutral expression as several patrons approached us. Beau poured three bourbons and set them on the counter; the men took them without acknowledging him. I sensed that enormous, friendly Beau was more than just a bartender; he was watching out for us, and I was so grateful.

Two of the patrons were familiar. Elias—who’d taken Macy’s platinum—was flanked by blond, smirking Darren Payne, who had gleefully accepted the virgin Mia as my replacement on opening night at the club. The third man was another tall, dark, and handsome member I didn’t know. He eyed Tate hopefully; she ignored him.

“Hey, Macy,” Elias said. He looked sad—like a lost puppy dog—and had dark circles under his eyes. “How’re you doing?”

“I’m fine,” she said and smiled. “Don’t look so sad, baby. Come on and have a drink.” She moved closer and talked to him soothingly, and his shoulders relaxed a little.

Tate leaned over to me and whispered, “Elias has it bad. I wouldn’t be surprised if Macy had a ring on her finger by morning.”

I blinked at Tate. “Really?”

“Really,” she said. “And red alert, Faith. Darren Payne’s checking out your ass.”

“Really?” I asked again.

“Really.” Tate rolled her eyes. “I like you, but you are clueless.”

“Good evening, ladies,” Darren said smoothly, inserting himself between us. His gaze zeroed in on me. “Nice to see you again.”

“Hi,” I said brightly. The tone didn’t match my mood.

“I see your platinum’s not available anymore,” Darren said, eyeing my bare throat.

I nodded. “That’s right.”

He snaked his arm around my waist. “Even better for me—now I don’t have to pay extra for that fine ass of yours.”

I opened my mouth and then closed it. Because WTF could I say to that?

While Darren Payne was pressing his burgeoning erection against me, the third patron continued to eye Tate up and down. She persisted in ignoring him, instead scanning the crowd. “Hi,” he stammered after a minute. “You’re so pretty.”

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