Page 5 of Red My Lips

Bring it on.

I exhale a sigh as I sit in the chair in front of my vanity. It’s been a long night—lucrative, but long. My feet are killing me, my bra straps are digging into my shoulders, and this horned headband is giving me a headache. I’m exhausted and so ready to get out of here. Anticipation runs through me at the thought of my plans for the rest of the night.

Pulling out my money bag, I toss the crumpled pile of cash onto the vanity. Most of my tips from tonight were on cards. I wrote down the exact amount of my card tips, not that I’ll ever see that money. It’s already gone, just like this cash is about to be. But if I’m going to be forced to work off my brother’s debt, I want to know exactly how much this place is getting from me. I’m not giving a single cent more than I have to.

Since I need money to live, the club pays me a small salary that goes straight toward my expenses. It was a fight with Jonas to have any type of pay at all, even the small amount I’m getting. The amount of money I’m taking home right now is abysmal—I can barely cover my bills. I’ve been living mostly off savings and credit cards. And I’ll admit I use the attention I get from men for the luxuries they offer me that I can’t afford for myself right now.

What can I say? If a man is going to be a douchebag, he might as well do it while I’m eating a three hundred dollar steak.

Letting out an exasperated breath, I refocus on the task in front of me. I count out each stack of money, flattening and organizing as I go. Being a bartender, I rarely see bills larger than a twenty. Turns out bottle service brings in the fifties and hundreds because these stacks are larger than I expected.

I sit back in my chair and breathe out a laugh. This is a lot of money. More money than I’ve ever made in a single night. More money than I’ve ever heard any of the other bartenders and servers making.

More money than they would ever expect me to make.

Even a fraction could really help me right now. I never agreed to how much would be taken from me, and I fucking earned this money. Every cent of it.

I count the money again, pulling a few bills from each pile to set aside. Folding the smaller stack of contraband bills, I tuck it into my bra cup until it’s no longer visible.

“Those horns suit you perfectly.” The deep voice from behind me vibrates over my skin. Movement catches my eyes in the mirror as a large figure emerges from the shadows. The blood freezes in my body, every one of my muscle’s tenses, as a man steps forward from where he stood against the lockers and into the glow of the vanity lights.

Every inch of visible skin up to his chin is inked with tattoos, his deep brown eyes catching mine in the reflection without letting go.

The tattoo god from the VIP lounge.

“You can’t be in here.” My voice sounds as tense and surprised as I feel.

He stalks closer, his approach slow like a predator toying with its prey. I sit frozen, tracking him with my eyes in the mirror.

He chuckles—deep, rich, and dark. It’s both arousing and alarming.

“I wouldn’t bet on that.” His choice of words picks at me and my situation, making my shoulders straighten in defiance.

“Do you always go to clubs and lurk in the women’s dressing rooms?” I challenge, my voice cold. One of my hands slips into the shelf beneath the vanity, past my makeup bag, and grips the handle of the four-inch switchblade I keep hidden. The cool metal in my hand is calming, reassuring.

“Only the ones that I own,” he responds easily.

Realization runs through me like a chill. He’s the new owner. The new owner of Inferno just had his tongue down my throat and his hands on my ass. I’m still wet from that kiss, and my pussy pulses at the thought of it.

He stops behind my chair, holding my eyes in the mirror. Leaning forward, he plants his hands on top of the vanity on either side of me, his arms caging me in. I press my thighs together as the scent of leather hits me.

His hands are large and strong, the ink covering everything all the way to his fingernails. Several silver rings adorning his fingers glint in the light. I can feel his necklaces falling against my hair, the weight of his heavy silver cross pressing against the nape of my neck. He’s completely engulfed me.

My eyes hold his in the mirror, equally thrilled and terrified.

“Looks like you had a good night.” He nods down to the cash, innuendo heavy in his voice.

“It could’ve been better,” I respond simply. I don’t know where this is going, so I’m not giving anything more than I get.

“Count it for me.” There’s a demanding edge hidden in his calm tone. I reach for my pile of tips before his next words stop me. “All of it.”

I freeze.

He knows.

Of course he fucking knows. He saw me take the money and hide it.

“If you don’t give me the rest of the money, I’ll enjoy taking it from you, little devil.” His hands stay firmly planted, but I feel as if he reached into my top and fondled me.

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