Page 61 of Of Grief And Gratitude

It wasn’t unusual for Luca and me to frequent the place, though it had been a few months since I’d been a customer. I let the place offer its comfort, my senses sinking into the distraction of women fawning over me.

The server brought us beer as soon as we sat at a table close to the stage. Luca took a pull of his drink and reached out, trailing his fingertips down the server’s bare arm. She paused, waiting for him to speak.

Luca gave her a winning smile. “Be a doll and bring us a few rounds of shots, will ya?”

The brunette nodded and flounced off, her short skirt revealing the lower curve of her generous ass. I found myself missing how Riona’s curves felt in my hands.

“Hey.” Luca snapped his fingers in my face, and I grabbed them without thinking, slamming his hand on the table and making our beers teeter perilously. “Dude, relax.”

“Sorry.” I released his fingers and leaned back in my chair, chugging my beer until I couldn’t hold back a belch. Luca held up seven fingers to rate it, and I scowled at him. “That was a nine, easy.”

“Get the fuck over yourself.” He laughed and let out a rival belch. “You got nothin’ on me.”

A few of the patrons were watching us warily. Most of them knew who we were on sight, and it wasn’t crowded on a Thursday night. Our server arrived with a tray of six shots—a good start.

“Thanks, doll.” Luca tucked a twenty into the lacy underwear under her skirt, and she shook her ass for him, giggling. He handed me a shot and held his glass up. “To getting shitfaced enough to forget our troubles.”

“Bring it on.” I tapped my shot glass against his and slowly drank the whiskey, savoring the burn. The second went down a little easier. I hardly felt the third.

When the server set another tray of shots on our table, I’d removed my jacket, and Luca was throwing money at the stage for each dancer. A couple of the girls worked the floor when they were done with their sets, sitting at our table and letting Luca buy them drinks.

A petite blonde leaned over me, tugging on the collar of my black t-shirt. “Come on, Romeo, why don’t you show us what you’ve got?”

My inhibitions were gone, so I allowed her to lift the hem of my shirt, then took over and lifted it over my head, circling it in the air and letting it drop onto her. She laughed and clasped the fabric to her chest. The dancer on the stage had just finished, and she crouched at the edge of the platform, crooking her finger at me. “Come on, Romeo. Let’s give them a show!”

It seemed like a good distraction, so I grabbed another shot before hopping up on the stage and wrapping a hand around the pole to help steady myself. Music blared, and the tall, black-haired vixen pressed her body against mine, rolling along with the beat. I got lost in the movement and sound, the world blurring as one song became several, and other dancers joined in.

I’d slid to the ground at some point, and the blonde crawled across the stage to me like a cat on the prowl, her hips swaying seductively. Just as she reached my thighs, her brown eyes widened, her mouth dropping open in shock before she scrambled away. My reaction time was too slow to turn my head.

“Get the fuck off my stage, Romeo.”

“No, you get th’ fuck off my stage, Cos’mo,” I slurred as my brother’s angry face blocked out the stage lights.

He slapped me upside the head. “You’re scaring away paying customers. Get the fuck back to your seat.”

“We paid,” I protested, rolling over with a groan and nearly falling off the stage before catching myself on the edge and lowering my legs to the floor first. Luca laughed hysterically as I plopped back into my chair.

“You’re a mess.” Cosimo shook his head and kicked my boot hard, his steel-toed version taking the advantage and nearly breaking my foot. “I’m cutting you off for the night. I’ll get you coffee so you can sober up enough to see your way out.”

When he walked away, I flipped him off and grabbed the last shot from the table, sending Luca into another fit of laughter before the blonde settled on his lap, grinding her hips against him as he tucked a twenty into her bra.

One of the other dancers stepped between my splayed thighs, running her fingers down my bare chest. She had gorgeous dark skin, shining with whatever iridescent glitter covered her body. Her brilliant white smile held the promise of more.

“My schedule is free,” she purred, leaning forward to put her generous breasts on display as they nearly fell out of her neon orange outfit.

The light of the stage haloed around her head, and I looked up into her cherubic face. “You’re an angel.”

“I can be whatever you want, handsome.” Her touch was cool against my heated skin.

“No.” Cosimo slammed a cup of coffee on the table, the dark brew sloshing over the sides. “Marisa, find another client for the night.”

She pouted, crossing her arms under her breasts, so they nearly reached her chin. Cosimo arched his brow, and she dropped the act, scurrying away.

Cosimo put the coffee into my hand, and I hissed when some splashed onto my skin. “I’m not letting you do this.”

“Do what?” I took a sip of coffee and grimaced at the bitter flavor. It was surprising that I could taste or feel anything after all the alcohol I’d consumed.

“Your little Irish girl will be up my ass if you land yourself in the media spotlight again,” he said gruffly. “And I think you’re going to regret tonight. It’s time for you to go home.”

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