Page 45 of Devour
A stripper moves on the center table fluid and sinuous like she’s made of nothing but curves and temptation.
Every sway is a slow, deliberate promise. Her breasts strain against a top that’s at least two sizes too small, and the hem of her micro-pleated skirt barely covers the curve of her ass.
She spins around the pole in a pair of eight-inch stilettos, the kind that gleam beneath the low club lights, black patent leather with red soles, ankle straps hugging her legs like a second skin.
Her skirt falls, revealing a thong as she flips upside down, legs splitting in the air with graceful precision. She’s skilled. Easy on the eyes. But all I see is Ariel. Ariel, dancing on that pole.
Ariel, with those haunted eyes and the fire she tries so hard to hide. One of the waitresses silently refills my glass. I glance at Dominic; he doesn’t look like he’s enjoying himself either. Strange, coming from the most shameless playboy among us.
One of his favorite girls is pressed to his side, running her hands over his chest, her tits practically spilling out of her top as she purrs into his ear. He grabs her wrist and stops her, jaw tight.
On a normal night, he’d have her bent over the nearest surface, making her scream his name loud enough to shake the walls. Not tonight. Something’s off with him, and I know it.
Axel sits quietly in the corner, watching everything with a blank expression. Cold. Calculating. Like he’s a million miles away, stuck in his own head.
That man never shows emotion unless someone’s bleeding. Then, Dominic’s voice cuts through the air rough, firm, and final.
“Everyone out.”
The strippers and waitresses freeze for half a second, then scramble out, heels clattering across the floor like gunshots. One of Dominic’s regulars lingers, pouting like she can’t believe he’s serious.
“You too,” he growls, not even looking at her.
The second she sees the dark fire in his eyes, she bolts. I raise an eyebrow at him.
“You good?”
He just shrugs.
“Fun’s over.”
There’s a short pause before he shifts back to business.
“The Romano shipments are arriving earlier than we anticipated.”
“When?” I demanded, lifting the whiskey glass to my lips.
“Tomorrow night.”
I nod slowly, taking a measured sip instead of downing it like water. I let the burn settle—I need a clear head for the call.
“Then we move before it gets heavily guarded, before they transport it to the warehouse.” “Are the boys ready?” I ask, glancing toward Axel. He gives me a sharp smirk.
“Ready and eager to retaliate.”
I shift my gaze to Dominic. “How’s your shoulder holding up?”
“Good enough to fight,” he answered, flexing it slightly.
“Good. We head back to the city tonight. I want eyes on that dock the moment the sun goes down.”
“You should sit this one out,” Dominic says, watching me closely.
“The boys and I will handle it.”
“No. I want to be there.”
He gives me a look that says he knows there’s more on my mind than just business. But he doesn’t push. Instead, he shifts gears.
