Page 14 of The Club

She’s working way too hard to carry the weight of the conversation while Dominic looks broody and bored. He’s trying, sort of, occasionally making eye contact with her, throwing in bland comments here and there that she does does her best to transform into conversation.

I whisk my wine off the table and saunter from the lounge to the dining area. I can feel my g-string between my ass cheeks as I walk. I fucking love that.

It mollifies me, just a touch, that Dominic sees me almost at once. The boredom vanishes from his expression. He’s instantly intense. Furious, yes—but hungry too. His dark eyes absolutely eat me up as I make my way past the other stylish diners.

Dominic’s date follows his gaze. Her red lips part as she takes in the sight of me. She might not interest me, but I still appreciate that.

She turns back to Dominic and says something to him. His eyes flick to her briefly before returning to me. He doesn’t answer her.

Now she’s annoyed, and who can blame her? No one likes to be ignored. ButI’mthe center of attention right now—and not just Dominic’s. Between his glare and my flair, my arrival at his table attracts several peripheral glances.

“Good evening, Dominic,” I say smoothly. “And …?”

The blonde beauty waits for Dominic to introduce her. When it’s obvious that he’s not going to—because he’s fixated on me and has maybe even forgotten her name—she answers in a voice as sharp as shattered crystal, “Nicole.”

“Nicole,” I echo, flashing my most charming smile. “Let me help you out, darling. He’s not interested. And he’s doing a shit job of even pretending.”

I expect her to agree with me, maybe joke a little, then quietly depart. After all, the truth of what I’ve said is painfully obvious. But she surprises me with look of supreme disdain.

“And you are?” she sneers.

I don’t have a chance to answer before Dominic growls, “Rafael, fuck off.”

His eyes are burning with dark fury. His jaw is clenched so hard that a muscle is feathering in his cheek. His hand is fisted tight on the table by his wineglass.

Heat moves through my body at the sight of his anger, the promise of it.

“You don’t want her,” I tell him. He wantsme—and it pisses me off to see him here pretending otherwise.

He came inside me twice last night. He fucked me with rage and desperate hunger. I might have been high, but I remember that. I’ve felt it echoing in my body all day.

Does he imagine that he could ever fuckherlike that? With that kind of raw truth?

“Rafael,” he warns in a low voice. The only reason he’s staying quiet is that he doesn’t want a scene. I think he knows that if he pushes me, I’ll make one.

“Dominic?” his date inquires.

I bend down to rest my wineglass on the table and create some semblance of speaking privately. I’m not here to embarrass her. I just want her out of my way. And out of my chair.

“Nicole, whatever it is you want from him—status, money, a good fuck—you aren’t going to get. He’s already bored. Leave, before it becomes even more painfully obvious.”

She tries one last time, looking to Dominic to deny it. But even if his eyes are burning with rage, they’re burning only on me.

She tosses her napkin on the table and gets up. “You’re an asshole,” she says, maybe to Dominic, maybe to me. Fair enough in either case.

Neither of us watch her leave. I take her seat, settling back and hooking one leg over the other.

“Do you have any idea what I’m going to do to you?” Dominic whispers across the table. My cock, already half hard, stiffens.

“I have lots of ideas—and some very fun rooms for exploring them.”

His nostrils flare. I wonder if he’s getting hard too. He says darkly, “I also have some very fun rooms.”

Torture and disposal rooms, he means. I smile to let him know I understand. He scowls.

The food arrives on a silver tray. The waiter stalls when he sees me instead of Nicole.

“Sir?” he says, looking to Dominic.

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