Page 19 of Pink Poison

Stone’s mouth tugs upwards on one side at the mention of the stripper. “She’s pretty hellbent on staying around here, Prez.”

“She was exiled once, she can be exiled again,” Graves snaps.

My tongue traces the front of my teeth as I contemplate how far I want to push my brothers in this situation. That woman was a fucking goddess on the stage, decked out in all pink like it was her personal armor.Goddamn.I can’t deny that she got my dick hard. Sheone thousandpercent did. Who the hell could blame me? I witnessed herleashStone with a single move, baiting him to come after her. I doubt she knows it, but Stone doesn’t chase pussy—pussy chases him. It was majestic as fuck, and I’d blow my paycheck to see it happen again.

“What’s the deal with Blondie, anyway?” I ask, curiosity winning out against keeping my mouth shut.

“Nosy fuck,” Graves groans, throwing his arm over his eyes. “Long story short, Mack has hated his stepsister for a long time. She was the pride of the family or some shit. We were goin’ to Mo’s on the regular, so I went one night alone and saw this sexy as sin dancer working the stage like she owned it. Dicked her down for a few months before realizing it was Stephanie, Mack’s sister.”

“That ain’t all of it,” Stone says, kicking his boot against Graves’ leg. “This dumbass didn’t tell Mack flat out, so we went to Mo’s to celebrate my win and patch into the MC. Guess who was on the stage?”

A smile cracks my face, knowing damn well who it was. “Blondie.” I laugh. “Mack must have lost his mind seeing her.”

“He recorded her on the stage and sent the video to their parents,” Graves snorts. “I convinced her to leave. Drove her to the bus station myself.”

Stone shakes his head. “Not before dicking her down again.”

“I’m not gonna sit here and say that I didn’t feel shit for her,” Graves admits. “She deserved better than what was comin’ her way. Mack let his hate for his father bleed into his opinions of Stephanie and her mother.”

Blowing heavily, I step over the guys’ feet towards my bed. I flop down on the firm mattress and toe off my worn-down boots. “So, what? She took off and that was it?”

“I came back to The Deli, and Mack saw evidence that I was with her again,” Graves groans, as if the confession physically hurts to say aloud. “He said something that made me realize the line between love and hate is pretty damn thin.”

“He loves her?” I mumble, feeling the weight of exhaustion pulling me under.

Stone drawls, “He loves to hate her.”

“And he hates to love her.” Graves sighs.

Their voices meld together, blending into a gentle hum as a wave of darkness crashes over my consciousness. An image of a blonde woman, dancing provocatively in pink lingerie teases me. She beckons me to chase her further into the dark—taunting me with a salacious smirk. Excitement thrums through my veins at the opportunity to hunt, even in my dreams. Stone may not chase pussy, but I live for it.

Ready or not, here I come.

Chapter seven

Stevie

“You’re late, Ms. Waters,” Atticus snaps.

Rolling my eyes, I walk through the lobby of Le Papillon. “I’m five minutes early,Mr. Lennon.”

He spears me with a cold stare, one that lets me know he’s very much unimpressed by my timeliness.Jackass.“You’ll be meeting with my wife, Mae,” he directs, pointing towards a set of ornate French doors. “Go up the stairs, to thesecondfloor. Donot, under any circumstance, enter the third floor.”

“Second floor, got it,” I snark as I brush past the shady fucker.

Neon blue and violet lowlights stream through the gallery while people, who I can only assume are employees given their attire, chatter amongst one another. Select few turn their stares, unabashedly gawking at me. My lips curl into a teasing smirk as I waggle my fingers in a cheeky wave. Idon’t blame them for looking—I’m fuckin’ hot. And no, I don’t have an overinflated ego. It’s simply a fact, a fact that Teegan instilled in me over the years.

My glittery, pink stilettos click against the freshly waxed tile as I approach a dimly lit staircase. Gripping the rail, I steady myself before walking up the steps. Thoughts of what kind of woman marries an asshole like Atticus Lennon filter through my mind. Given my first impression of the man, he doesn’t strike me as someone who would choose a woman who could stand toe to toe with him. No, that doesn’t feel quite right, either. I’d bet he picked someone whocould, but he broke her before she stood a chance like the shitty narcissistic asshole he is.

“Hello,” a soft, feminine voice says, breaking me from my train of thought.

Standing at the top of the staircase is a breathtaking woman who can’t be much older than myself, if at all. Christ, she’s more than breathtaking—she issoul stealing.I have never, in my twenty-four years, met anyone with such beautiful, yet haunting eyes. I could get lost in them, in the story that they hold if it wasn’t considered rude to stare at someone. Her brunette hair falls in puffy waves to her shoulders, displaying her soft facial structure. My eyes roam down her frame, taking in her short, black, form-fitting dress. She has curves, not nearly as much as myself, but she’s plush in all the desirable places, with hips thatdefinitelymake grown men cry.

A small giggle bubbles in my throat as I’m drawn to her choice of footwear—a pair of dark Western boots with a gorgeous floral stitching design. They’re cute, but certainly not something I would think the wife of the owner would wear.

“You must be Stevie,” she says.

“Yup,” I pop. “I take it you’re Mae?”

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