Page 96 of Kept

“That’s not a dress. It’s a fucking band-aid.”

When I snicker, he turns his gaze on me, his jaw flexing. “This is your fault.”

“Enough,” Maverick snaps from the front seat. “Or we’re going home.”

Zella gives Enzo pleading eyes, and he relents. She leans forward to press her face against the window, taking in the queue winding down the block with wide eyes. “There’s so many people!”

“Definitely going to kill someone,” Enzo mutters, and she elbows him.

“Now now, children,” I say lightly. “Tonight is about fun. Letting our hair down.”

Zella winces. “Here?”

“It’s just an expression.” Maverick pulls to a stop outside the main entrance, and I climb out. The crowd is noisy, dozens of chattering women and men who all crane their necks to have a look as I help Zella out. She steadies herself against my arm, looking up at Victrola with a dubious expression. “This is a place for dancing?”

“Wait and see.” I offer her my arm as Enzo stomps up behind us and Maverick hands the valet his keys. I keep watching her face as the doors are pulled open, and it doesn’t disappoint.

As we walk through, we’re hit with the pounding bass. It reverberates in my chest, and Zella puts her hand over her heart. “I can feel it here.”

Leaning in, I murmur in her ear so she can hear me. “Means you’ve got music in your soul, princess.”

I lead her through the ground floor of Victrola, keeping to the outskirts as Enzo follows, snarling menacingly at everyone who dares to get within a foot of us.

Not many do.

The scarlet walls are lit with sconces, highlighting the artwork on display. Zella cranes her neck to stare at them as we pass by, swiveling to take in the black marble bar, the hundreds of bottles on display, the huge golden chandeliers overhead that light up the dancers moving in perfect chaos. “It’s so beautiful!”

We make our way up the winding gold staircase, and she peers over the edge to the dancers on the stage below, craning her head until I have to tug her gently back before she tips over. Her eyes are huge, her smile even bigger when she turns to me. “This is amazing, Ryder.”

“Glad you like it,” I say as we reach the section we’ve reserved for tonight. Maverick murmurs in the ear of a security guard as he unclips a black velvet rope to let us inside.

“They’ll send someone up for drinks orders,” he says. Zella spins, taking in the space. Comfortable, deep wine-colored couches line the back wall, a large table with an ice-cold champagne bucket ready and waiting. Directly opposite us is floor to ceiling thick glass, designed to offer the experience of the club without the peasants in the crowd pushing and shoving. Zella makes a beeline for it immediately, pressing her hands against the glass as she stares down.

Enzo settles himself against the far wall, arms crossed and a glower on his face as Maverick reaches for the champagne. All of us are unashamedly watching Zella, taking in the way her hips shift underneath that ridiculous excuse for a dress in time with the music, the way the ribbons of her sandals wind up her calves, gold upon gold.

She’s so beautiful, she makes my fucking chest ache.

Maverick calls her in a low voice, and her face lights up when she sees the champagne, a delighted laugh spilling from her lips when the cork pops and Maverick catches the spillage in a tall, fluted glass, handing it to her.

Sniffing the bubbles, she takes a tentative sip before turning to watch the crowd again. Unable to help myself, I take a few steps, slipping my arms around her waist and pulling her back against me. “Happy?” I murmur in her ear, and she hums.

“There’s so much,” she says softly. The music is slightly muted in here, with speakers to help us control the volume. Easier for Zella’s ears, since she hasn’t been anywhere as loud as this before. “I don’t know where to look.”

I press my lips against her neck. “We’ve got all night, princess. Take your time.”

We sway together, and Zella leans her head back against me as she sips her drink and watches the dancers on stage. Maverick murmurs behind us, and I turn my head to see him giving our main drinks order to a waitress at the door.

I frown. She looks familiar, but she ducks out before I can get a good look at her face.

A new song begins and Zella wriggles in my arms. Pushing away any thought of the waitress, I lean in, pressing my fingers lightly into her hips. “Dance with me, princess.”

She turns under my touch, facing me with a self-conscious smile. “I don’t know how.”

“I’ll teach you,” I say without thinking. But as soon as we start moving, as soon as I start coaxing Zella to move her hips in time with mine, her body pressed against me, I realize that this was very much a mistake.

She sucks in a breath as she feels the outline of my cock pressed against her. “Ryder?”

I cup the back of her neck, pressing her into me as we move. “You feel that?” I breathe in her ear. “That’s all for you, Zella. You and your little gold top.”

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