Page 56 of Auctioned Surrender

He’ll have the entire time I’m dancing to think about it. Once I get done, he’ll probably want me to talk with Dereck and Damian about setting up even more of their high roller friends with the girls at the club. His wheels will be spinning by then. The dollars he could bring in with a deal like that should turn his energy from me to the fact that he could capitalize on the situation. Then, hopefully, he’ll decide hurting me isn’t the wisest choice for anyone concerned. The asshole will probably even forget all about his jealous streak when he talks to his accountant, the one who hangs out in the back of the club, continually adding and subtracting to the books, acting like he runs the club and everyone in it.

The water starts to cool, and I bend almost in half, reaching the faucet to pour more hot water into the tub. My cell beeps with another message from R.J.

Message: You’re safe until tomorrow. You don’t mess with other men. Understand, my little whore?

Just his style to let me think I’m safe and then have his goons pick me up as soon as I walk out of this establishment, but thanks to Dereck, I know what I’d be walking into if I leave the hotel now.

The message confirms what I thought. R.J. is jealous, but he’s still expecting me to dance tomorrow, which means things are still salvageable. I can go back to the club, get the information from the snake who has it, and hopefully help Bryanna, along with all the other girls at the same time. I should rethink my strategy, play nice with Dereck, and try to find out precisely what his friend knows about me. If he can dig up information, so can other people who might be looking, and that wouldn’t be good for anyone, especially me. I shouldn’t have letmy temper or his ability to light my switch get the best of me, and I usually wouldn’t, but damn this man throws me off my game.

I let the water continue to soothe my irritation, psyching myself up for another confrontation with the incredibly hunky man on the other side of the wall. Dereck has somehow figured out my sexual provocations, knows more than he should about my background, and I should really find out how and why.

I towel off, throw on a pair of my signature skin-tight jeans, and a low cut black tank. I grimace as I take a good look in the mirror. It’s what I signed up for, and you have to play and dress the part in this business. I fluff my hair with the towel and finger through it, letting some of its natural wave take shape, then I brush my teeth and run a red-tinted gloss over my lips before heading out to find out what Dereck knows.

I walk into the living room, and Dereck is sitting at the table, which has been cleared from dinner. He’s working on a laptop but stops to glance up, his eyes lingering over my body, taking me in from head to toe, sending a tingle of desire straight down my spine. Men ogle me all day long, every day of my life now, and not one of them flips my switch. This man, however, sets me on fire with his gaze, and I find it extremely perplexing.

“Take a seat, Layla.” It’s not my imagination that Dereck’s voice lowers an octave when giving me instruction, nor that my center wets every time he does.

I slide into the chair across from him and watch his long fingers grasp the water pitcher as he pours the clear liquid into the glass in front of me.

“Thank you,” I say, swallowing as the heat of his steely gray eyes penetrates me from across the table, stirring the thrum of excitement that flows through my veins.

“I thought you were going to read and then go to bed after your bath,” Dereck says, taking a drink of the water that is set beside his laptop.

“I was but thought an apology was probably in order. I didn’t mean to be so touchy, but having a report run on me is a little bit stalkerish,” I tell Dereck.

“Apology accepted. I work security, a girl’s life is in danger, and you’re the closest contact we have. It’s how the system works. I’m happy to tell you what it says if you’re curious. I have some questions anyway,” Dereck says.

I can’t argue with the logic or his honesty. “I’d like to know.”

“Why don’t we start with the easy stuff?” Dereck says before going through the finer points of his document. “Exotic dancer, twenty-eight-years-old, but no further information confirmed yet. Why the change of employment?”

I breathe a sigh of relief, knowing he has my cousin’s info and not my own. Just a few years apart, but with the same name. “Money, papi. Doesn’t everything come down to the almighty buck these days?”

“Perhaps. How long after you started working at the club did you begin dating the boss?”

I take a sip of my water, wishing it were stronger. “Do you have any more wine?” I ask.

Dereck penetrates me with the heat of his gaze from over the top of his laptop. “Two glasses will have to do you for the night, Layla, and you didn’t answer my question.”

“Last time I checked, I was old enough to drink as much as I wanted.”

His eyes don’t waver from mine. “Two-drink limit when you’re with me, princess, and you still didn’t answer my question. I’m not accustomed to asking more than once.”

I look away, anything to avoid the penetrating gray eyes of the man who not only seems to see right through me but sensesor knows more than he should, and that voice. Everything about this man sets my center on fire. “I think it’s pretty personal. Why do you want to know?”

“I’m simply trying to protect you. Your boyfriend has a rap sheet longer than most of the criminals I’ve come across. He’s been convicted of domestic violence, pimping, pandering, suspected of trafficking, drug running, and a slew of other things.”

I’ve heard it all before, every time the local police come sniffing around trying to get information about him and me through some of the other girls. I’d only been labeled his girl for three days before they were looking for me. They all think if they get to his girl that I’ll give them something they’ll be able to use to collar the bastard and beat the feds out of a bust, but they’re not getting anything from me, and neither is Dereck. “I already told you—I can take care of myself, papi.”

“I know what you told me, but we both know R.J. isn’t the ideal boyfriend and that you like it more than you want to admit when I try to take care of you. Stop stalling, princess. Tell me what I want to know.”

I sigh because he’s not going to let this go. “The same day, okay? R.J. gave me a showcase spot, the longest dance of the night, and the crowd liked me. He offered to take me home after the show and…” I shrug. “The rest you can probably guess.”

Dereck takes a drink of his water, running his fingers over the short hairs of his chin, surveying me in silence while my heart pounds so hard it’s difficult to believe he can’t hear it from across the table.

“I can’t say that I blame the man for going after what he wants, and you presumably didn’t know the other stuff he was into at the time, so understandable. People with a record of violence like his are not going to change. Has he ever hurt you, Layla?”

I swallow hard because Dereck has managed to throw me off my game with his smooth charm. I’m supposed to be the one learning what he knows, trying to decipher it, and not the other way around. “I think twenty questions are over. If you’re trying to get more information about R.J. to help Bryanna, I’ve given you everything. I wouldn’t hold back information that could help her. I hope you believe that.”

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