Page 4 of Compelled Obedience

For some reason, my fake hair color calmed him down almost instantly. I made a mental note to purchase several more of the cheap bottles. Maybe chocolate milk and fuchsia hair was the ticket for the entire lottery. If only it could be that simple. If only I could fix his little brain.

“Because I’m pretending it’s Halloween!” I made every word exaggerated, tickling his tummy. His giggle continued, a sound I was certain I’d never hear, the first few months spent with me so horrible.

Then I eased onto his bed, gently taking my time to unfold his fingers from one hand, slowly wrapping them around the glass. The tension began to ooze from his body, allowing him to function almost normally.

Only then could I take a deep breath.

My life was in shambles.

My nerves frazzled.

My bank account close to zero.

And I had nobody to count on in case of a crisis.

A wave of sadness and anger spiraled together and suddenly, I couldn’t stop the tears.

Tomorrow was another day, a chance to excel in my new parttime job and I had to be on my game.

CHAPTER 2

Grant

“I’m ending the call, Elizabeth. I’m not going through this again.”

“But we need to talk,” she insisted. “I have something you need to hear.”

“We don’t have a single thing left to talk about.” Jesus Christ. I’d gone from being in a decent mood to wanting to bite the head off a bat in less than ten seconds.

“Don’t shut me down, Grant. This is important.”

It was always important. To her. Not to me.

I laughed and continued to head toward the Blackout Club from my office, jogging down the stairs. “We’re finished. This is the last time I’m going to tell you. Goodnight, Elizabeth, and lose my number.” I ended the call before she tried to ply me with excuses for the umpteenth time. I wasn’t the kind of man to fall for that bullshit a second time. My ex had a way of weaseling her way into my life when I least expected it. I should change my number and would if it wasn’t one of two phones I also used for business.

Hissing at my stupidity, I remained agitated as I headed into the club. Every time I walked through the crowds, I was amazed at the number of people packed inside. I noticed Blackout’s manager and headed toward him, following his gaze toward the ceiling. You have got to be kidding me.

I thought I’d seen it all inside the club, including the wackiest neon/blacklight decorated uniforms but this took the cake. I wasn’t running a goddamn strip club, no matter what was written in the press.

“Cages? Really?” My snarl was darker than normal. I planted my hands on my hips as I stared at the four massive steel enclosures secured to the ceiling by neon cables. The metal bars were wrapped in strings of pulsing lights in shades of fuchsia, lime green, and electric blue accenting two male and two female dancers dressed like… tigers.

I slowly turned my head toward Parker Dyson. He’d been the manager of the popular nightclub for over five years. While the entire club consisted of Blackout and the private side, Carnal Sins, had both seen recent updates given decisions I’d made with my two partners, Parker had creative control over Blackout. Up to this point, he’d followed the company line. However, cages had yet to be installed in either Miami or DC.

Parker shrugged as we both stared up at the ceiling. Lately, I’d been in more piss-poor moods than I’d been in my entire twenty years of doing business. Sadly, Elizabeth always added fuel to the fire. Sighing, I scrubbed my jaw and glared at the steel bars glistening in the neon light. The enclosures were large enough a single dancer had plenty of room to stand and perform sensual moves without hindrance. They were also low enough to the dancefloor that an extremely tall individual could touch the bottom platform. When I noticed that streamers were being tossed to the huge crowd below, I shook my head.

“They’re popular with the crowds. Tonight is kitty-cat night. Tomorrow is all about sexy devils,” he said over the loud roar of primal music, the rapid thumping of the bass drums energizing the capacity crowd. The public side of the massive structure I owned always had a waiting line outside of at least three hundred eager partygoers, while the exclusive members-only kink club had a private entrance allowing for complete anonymity.

They both made millions of dollars every quarter.

I was a lucky man, my wealth exponentiating every year.

“And the next night?” I was afraid to ask at this point.

“Aliens that glow in the blacklights.” He laughed nervously when he saw my face. “Trust me, boss. I know what I’m doing. Business is up by more than ten percent. I attribute it to the cages. When you get a chance, look at the comments on our Facebook page. Outstanding. People want more. Their needs are increasing and changing. We need to exceed our limits.”

Yes, apparently increasing to a frenzy.

Blackout was the hottest club in LA, at least according to various social media sites. Lines of people waited to get in every night. Between the neon lights, the special glasses allowing guests to see bits of information about the person standing in front of them, and the hot music, the club was standing room only every night.

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