Page 68 of Creed

I smirk at that. I love my tall glittery heels. I don’t wear them often because they’re a safety issue with aerial ribbons, but when I did pole routines, they sent me on a goddamn power trip. I haven’t worn them in months though.

I shake my head, ridding myself of the nightmare that lingers in the back of my mind.

Bringing myself back to reality, I know I wanted to be pissed at what Creed did. Hell, I was. But as much as I loved dancing, I hated Viper with every fiber of my being. I hate Tank, I hate the men who believed that they could touch me and take advantage of me like I was some possession they paid for, that I was some emotionless doll for them to toss around. I hated most of the ass-kissing women who turned a blind eye to the abuse of their boss, and how he hurt the rest of us who worked alongside them and dared to challenge authority.

I wanted to be mad at Creed, but when I think about all of the bullshit I lived through every day, all I’m filled with is utter relief that I never have to go back, because Creed did that for me. He made that sacrifice for me. He risked the bad publicity to make sure I’d never have to set foot anywhere near the club, or Tank, or his disgusting VIP members again. Tears prick at the back of my eyes at the realization that he made half my problems disappear in one day.

I lean over in my stool and wrap my hands around his neck, hugging Creed tightly. He wraps his arms around me tightly and just holds me. “Thank you.” I whisper into his neck. I hear Riley sigh behind me, and it sounds like he’s relieved at the outcome of this conversation.

That little shit probably knew what Creed was doing, didn’t he?

Honestly, I can’t be mad at either of them. Not right now.

“You don’t have to thank me.” He murmurs against my hair on top of my head. “I told you I would take care of you. I won’t fail you on that promise again, Stardust.”

“Still,” I say, pulling back to look at him. I’m sure my whole face is puffy from holding back the urge to cry, and his eyes slide down to my mouth before climbing back up to meet my eyes. My stomach flips but I push down the feeling and smirk at him as I say, “You should shower, you stink like stale beer and sweat.” He doesn’t. But I had to tease him before venturing into a territory that created too much tension between us.

“Shit, I’m sure I do, okay.” He says, releasing me and scooting off the barstool. Stopping in the entryway to the kitchen he turns back to me and says, “You forgive me for being an overbearing alphahole?”

I want to snark back at him, but I hesitate when I see the sincerity in his eyes, behind his teasing tone. The silent plea for me to not be mad at him for taking my decision away from me. “Yeah, Creed.” I say softly. “I forgive you. Just don’t do that shit behind my back ever again.” I shoot a half-hearted glare at him and he sends me a wicked smile that says fat fucking chance before disappearing. Once he’s gone, I turn to Riley, who looks guilty as hell.

“You knew.”

He winces, his shoulders slumping. “Don’t be mad, please?” that kicked puppy look in his sweet brown eyes is threatening to make me melt into a puddle on the floor. “I swear Creed’s intentions came from a good place in his heart.”

Still melting.

I cross my arms and try to scowl at him, but he makes it really, really impossible. “And what about you?”

He shrugs and gifts me with a shy smile that pulls wide on one side, exposing those canines. “I just wanted to spoil a pretty girl.”

Both of our faces flush a bright red, the freckles becoming more prominent behind the blush of his cheeks, as I’m sure mine are doing just the same. It’s one thing to be called ‘hot’ or ‘sexy’, but there’s something about a sweet, shy, handsome guy calling you ‘pretty’ that does things to my insides. Specifically between my thighs.

I feel a little guilty for feeling such a reaction to Riley simply calling me pretty, but I can’t help it. I’ve spent the last two years being catcalled and named all kinds of nicknames and pet names that I absolutely despised, but ‘pretty’ wasn’t one of them.

I tilt my head to the side, studying him. Though I’ve only known him for a few days, it truly feels like a lifetime. Riley is someone that anyone could easily love. Not just fall in love with, but to just love him as a human being. He’s so funny, so kind, attentive, caring, selfless, and he’s so damn smart and talented. Not to mention he’s insanely attractive. His messy auburn curls atop his head, his deep brown eyes, the freckles that smatter perfectly across his face, that fucking irresistible fae prince smile, and I’m not going to touch the subject of his chiseled body, because…damn.

“You know,” I start, “if you haven’t already, you’re going to make a girl very happy one day.”

Riley blushes intensely and looks away, picking at a stray string on his destroyed black jeans, and suddenly he looks incredibly uncomfortable after what I just said. My gut clenches, knowing that I just caused this reaction and I’m about to apologize when my phone buzzes with a text. Immediately the hairs on the back of my neck rise and I tense because I can count on one hand the number of people who have access to my phone number. One of which I can’t get rid of, but unfortunately I can’t afford to open a new phone line.

I flip my phone over from where it sits on the counter with a shaky hand and the screen lights up when I tap it.

1 new text message from Unknown.

I hold my breath and swipe to open it. I stare at my screen in shock as I read and re-read the text message over and over.

Unknown: You know I love those fishnets you wear, but you’ll look so fucking good for me in this little number, too.

Below the text is a grainy image of me trying on a new swimsuit since I didn’t own one. Riley had insisted since we stop by several lakes, beaches, and hotels with private pools during the tour. I had chosen a one-piece but it’s not modest. It’s a sheer, see-through black with a high-cut hips and a high neckline, but a winding and coiling snake pattern is embroidered throughout the swimsuit, the body of the snake covering my tits and lady bits. There are three buttons down the back that I couldn’t reach and needed Riley’s help to clasp.

That’s when this image was taken because my back is facing the camera as Riley fumbles with the buttons on the suit.

Another text pops up as I analyze where the hell this photo was taken from.

Unknown: What I don’t love, is this little fuck head putting his hands all over you.

I blanch at his words. Another picture pops up. This one is from earlier when Riley had bear-hugged me ‘til I felt better. We’re both laughing as he walks me backwards down the walkway of the mall. It would be a cute picture of us if it wasn’t sent by one of the foulest men on the planet.

---