Page 28 of Coldhearted King

“He isn’t our normal topic of conversation when we’re together. Is there something I should know?”

Roman shakes his head, then without saying anything more, he stands and strides to the bar.

Tate and I share a look. Roman has always been the more serious brother. Even when we were kids. Now he’s practically unreadable.

A dark-haired woman drapes herself over Tate. “You want to dance, sexy?”

Tate runs his hand up the length of her thigh, his fingers disappearing beneath the hemline of her short dress. She gasps and then giggles. His hand reappears and he stands, pulling her up and tugging her to the small VIP dance floor.

Sitting alone, and now the sole focus of the remaining women, I start to get irritated. After finishing my drink, I stand as well, telling my blonde companion that I’m going to the men’s room. When she offers to come with me, I shake my head. I’m not in the mood for bathroom sex tonight. Even if the bathrooms here are first rate.

Thinking of bathroom sex makes me think about Delilah. I remember when I first met her. Before we’d even spoken more than a few words, I’d imagined taking her to the bar’s bathroom and fucking her. It had been a strangely compelling urge. With her breasts spilling over the top of that little black dress and the way she shivered as she drank the whiskey, the idea of sinking my dick into her had overtaken my brain.

Considering she was a virgin, I’m glad I didn’t make that suggestion.

The crowd of women has grown in the last few minutes, so I don’t return to our table after using the men’s room. I wander to the balcony overlooking the dance floor instead.

I lean against the railing, watching the writhing masses below, wondering if Tate will care whether I leave and take blondie with me. I’m just about to return to the group and make my excuses when a woman wearing a shimmery green dress draws my focus. Her dark hair swirls around her shoulders as she moves her hips to the pounding beat. For some reason, I can’t look away.

Men hover around her and her friend in a hopeful swarm, and I narrow my gaze on her. Would they come up here if I send someone to invite them? It’s only when she throws her head back and raises her arms in the air as she dances that I recognize her.

I straighten.

What are the fucking odds?

My hands grip the railing as one of the men moves closer to her. I scan the area for Paul, but I don’t see him. Either he’s not dancing or he didn’t come with her. Or perhaps she found out about Philippa and dumped him.

The man sidles closer, his gyrating hips almost brushing against her ass, and a burst of aggravation has me clenching my teeth. I wonder how she’ll react if he makes contact. If she’s broken up with Paul, she might welcome his touch.

My eyes fix on the man as, growing braver, he slides up behind her and wraps his arm around her waist. Delilah jerks away from him and spins around. With a shake of her head, she moves away, but the guy doesn’t seem to get the message, following her as she tries to avoid him. Delilah’s friend looks like she’s about to intercede, but I’m already on the move. I’m down the stairs and stalking toward them.

Shoving my way through the crowd, I spot Delilah and her friend facing the man, who’s now wearing a scowl. Guess this asshole isn’t a fan of rejection.

With one stride, I’m in his face, bending down to growl in his ear. “I suggest you leave these ladies alone or security will be escorting you from these premises.”

He steps back. “Who the fuck are you?”

I tower over him, so he’s ballsy, I’ll give him that. “The owner. So if you don’t want to find yourself permanently banned, I suggest you leave. Now.”

With a sneer in Delilah’s direction—which has me contemplating throwing him out anyway—he disappears into the crowd.

I turn to face her, taking in her wide eyes and flushed cheeks.

When she doesn’t say anything, her friend steps in. “You’re the new boss, I presume?”

I spare her a glance, noting the slight curve to her lips. “Temporarily.”

Finally Delilah speaks. “You didn’t need to intervene. I had it handled.” There’s a stubborn tilt to her chin.

“I’m sure you did, but this is my club and we don’t tolerate harassment.”

“And I guess all cases of harassment get personal attention from the owner?” She’s had a bit to drink, otherwise I don’t think she’d be talking to me like this. Or maybe she would. All I know is that her attitude gets my blood boiling.

And my dick hard.

“I need to talk to you, Miss West,” I say through gritted teeth.

She tosses her hair. “I’m dancing.”

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