Page 56 of Bully

Now, I paced my luxurious new office on the second floor overlooking the large entertainment spaces below, and fought the urge to go seek her out in the crowd. The way my office was built, I had one-way mirror access to both the stage room and the large bar and mingling spaces, even though they were separated by many private rooms.

Every room was booked tonight, and every night on the schedule moving forward. Memberships far exceeded what we could actually facilitate if everyone showed up at the same time. And the amount of money the girls of Prism would make was astronomical.

In just over an hour, Sloane would take center stage of her brand new exhibition space, yet I still hadn’t let her see it.

It was a gift to her, but I couldn’t bring myself to show her. I couldn’t bring myself to face her.

So I texted her instead.

Make sure you check out the stage before your show.

Her reply came instantly.

As soon as these magic hands are done with me, I’ll get around to it. Your sisters give the best gifts.

And then she sent a winking face.

“What the fuck does that mean?” I asked out loud, like someone in my empty office was going to garner me some wisdom into the complex mind of my pretty little Rainbow.

Explain that further.

But she didn’t reply fast enough for me as my tie suddenly felt like it was choking me out. I panic dialed Peyton’s number and cursed when two rings in it went to voicemail. Hanging up, I dialed Dane, and he sighed as he answered.

“Hang on, she’s right here.” He said in place of a greeting, and Peyton cursed at him in the background, but he cut her off. “I want nothing to do with any of this. If there’s bloodshed tonight, it’s on you and Liv.”

“What did you do?” I barked into the phone as Peyton finally answered it.

“Change your tone with me or I’ll block you.”

“Peyton!” I snapped. “Tell me what you and Liv did.”

“What did Sloane tell you?” She paused.

“Something about magic hands gifted to her by you two asshats.”

Her snippy voice conveyed her annoyance with me as clearly as her words could have, “Masseuse, Tamen. We scheduled her a sensual deep tissue massage with a highly rated Kamasutra masseuse before her big opening night to help relax her and get her in the mood.”

“Bloody hell, Peyton!” I hung up the phone and a picture message came through at the same time from Sloane.

She was on her stomach with her eyes closed and a goofy smile pulled her lips back as some fuckwad had his hands buried in her hair, pulling her head back.

Twitchy.

Twitchy, twitchy, twitchy.

The fuckwad was going to lose those fucking hands.

I glanced back at the picture as I grabbed my jacket off the back of my chair and tore off through the building for Sloane’s office. The room’s dimmed gold chandelier betrayed her location, yet when I reached her door, down the hall from mine, it was locked.

Good thing I had override privileges on all the electronic locks.

Within a breath, I shoved the door open and found the subject of my fury laid out in the middle of a massage table covered in a piece of fabric the size of a washcloth.

Moaning.

Cracking my neck, I stepped inside, and slammed the door shut behind me as the fuckwad looked up from where he was stroking up the length of Sloane’s long leg, ending indecently high and then repeating the motion. Did he truly not understand how close to death he was?

“Oh, what an unwanted surprise.” Sloane spoke, muffled through the table’s padding, before she lifted her face and laid her chin on her crossed arms. “What’s the matter, TeeTee? Something bothering you?”

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