Page 3 of The Devil's Secret

“He hasn’t even opened his wallet once,” Dante says into my ear. “The son of a bitch drank one entire bottle of cognac and is guzzling the second, and still hasn’t given me anything we can use. But I swear, if he talks about fucking Raquel while his boys watch one more time, I’m gonna bash him on the head with that bottle, then make him swallow the glass. And I know what I said last time, to hold me back and shit, but fuck that, let me kill him.”

“Damn, man.” I chuckle, finally looking at him. “You sound like you got it bad. Protecting her honor and shit.”

His face bends with a grimace as he backs up a couple of inches. “I don’t.”

“Okay, liar.”

“Whatever. I just can’t stand the thought of that nasty-ass fuck thinking he can have a woman like that, let alone do the kind of shit he plans to do once they’re married.”

I glance back at Carlito, whose hunger is back on the stripper’s ass, while her eyes carelessly roam around the club, glazed with the same layer of cloudiness I saw before.

I wonder what she’s thinking about. Is she counting down until she can go home? Does she have someone to go home to? I envy that. It’d be nice to have a woman to come home to. Someone who’s not after my money or my cock, just me.

I keep staring while her eyes wander straight ahead. She’s gorgeous, with all that wavy golden hair spilling down her back. Her curves built for a man, a man like me.

Before I could turn back around to my brother, her bright blue gaze fixes on mine, and I’m unable to look away from her eyes once again. They’re the color of the hottest fires burning like the sun. They’re beautiful. Warm. Inviting. Deadly as hell.

A woman this stunning.

This sinful.

Sure knows how to destroy a man.

Both of us are caught in this trance, where nothing else seems to exist, at least not for me. It’s as though she can read my thoughts, knowing I can see her, truly see her, not just her body, which I definitely see too.

Is she wondering about me? Does she think I’m a prick, like all the rest here?

Strip clubs are normally not my thing. As much as I love women, I don’t care to see them take off their clothes for everyone in the room. I want them to strip for me alone because they want to, not because they have to.

Carlito’s hands are back on her hips, sliding to her stomach, pushing himself closer. I want to wrench him off her. I wanna break his fucking bones.

I drag in a long, deep inhale instead, attempting to steady the rage.

Her jaw strains for a brief second before she flips her head back seductively, her long, thick hair spreading over his chest as she grinds on his dick. He glides his hand up her thigh, too close to the thin red thong that barely covers her.

She’s not that into you, asshole. She’s just pretending.Not like a fucker like him would care anyway.

She clearly hates this job, and I wish I could help somehow.

Once the song is over, she curls around, kissing him on the cheek with a grin as she rises, and he hands her two singles with a slap on her ass.

Is this cheap motherfucker joking?

Two. Fucking. Dollars?

Dante’s right. He should kill him.

Now I’m the one who wants to pick up that bottle and bash it over his head.

She peers down at the crumbled-up bills in her hand and stuffs them in her panty before walking away, while he talks to the men seated beside him.

I ball a fist tightly.

I should end him right now. Dante will forgive me for taking that away from him. Eventually.

“I’ll be right back,” I tell my brother, who nods once, carelessly staring ahead, thumping his head to the beat, rolling closer to Carlito in hopes of getting more info out of him, no doubt.

I follow the woman who had the unfortunate luck of dancing with that cocksucker.

---