Page 76 of Auctioned Surrender

My jaw tenses as that unfamiliar feeling of possession tightens around me. I’ve been in plenty of relationships, but not once has the magnetism been this forceful, this primal, and this fucking intense.

Layla and the bartender are still talking when a man in a black suit walks in from the back. I recognize Sam Mahoney, Sammy to his friends, and the club's manager, from my research. According to the records sent over, he’s trying to make a name for himself with Chicago's boss and doing a pretty decent job, at least financially. This bar brings in much more revenue with less expense than R.J.’s club, at least on the report Murph sent over. I have a feeling that Porsche and the way R.J. lives may have something to do with it, but if he’s skimming from the boss, Bernatelli will find out at some point, and his day of reckoning will come. No one takes from Bernatelli and lives to tell about it, at least from what I know about the man.

The man himself walks in at that moment, strolling through the bar, then shaking Sammy’s hand, who’s standing behind the bar. Layla takes that moment to stand, and the manager can’t keep his eyes from scanning down the expanse of her body while Bernatelli’s eyes follow his gaze. She gives them both a big smile and sends a wink Sammy’s way, intentionally ignoring the boss.

He follows her sway as she makes her way to the women's restroom, and once the door closes behind her, he turns to talk to Sammy. When she returns, Sammy gestures her over, and Layla saunters to the barstool she was sitting on before, taking her time, settling into the seat, and crossing her long sexy legs to ensure she’s captured their full attention.

Both men are entirely captivated. Layla nods as they talk to her, keeping her smiles and laughs focused on Sammy, even when Bernatelli speaks directly to her. It takes a few intentionalsnubs, but by the time my princess has ignored him for the third time, Bernatelli’s jaw tightens with unconstrained irritation.

As annoyed as I am watching her flirt with the two, I can’t help admire her beauty, poise, and skill, but when Sammy leans in close, my jaw tightens at the intimacy, knowing his intent. He speaks directly to her. Layla flounces her hair to one shoulder, paying him extra attention, and causing Bernatelli to simmer in the background, never taking his eyes from my fiery and spirited dark-haired beauty.

When Sammy’s finished talking, she shrugs, seemingly disinterested, which sparks Bernatelli into action. He reaches in front of Sammy, places a single bill on the bar directly in front of her, and says one word that I can make out from here.Dance!

Layla looks at him and then glances over at Sammy, who’s fixedly watching the exchange. She gives Sammy a lingering, sensual look and then shifts her long wavy hair before making her way slowly up the stairs to the stage. Layla seductively walks toward the man running the music in the corner. She says something I’m unable to make out, but his smile is immediate, and he nods with enthusiasm as she parts the curtain and heads backstage.

I take a drink and watch as Sammy and Bernatelli make their way to a table by the stage and sit down, just as the overhead lights dim. The sultry tones of the song Layla danced to at the martial arts center begin to play from the room’s corner speakers, right before the curtain slowly parts, unveiling my half-dressed submissive who is being anything but compliant at the moment.

Everyone in the audience feels the anticipation of the moment as she takes center stage. Layla’s sporting her signature bright red G-string, which I happen to know was a purchase at the adult shop she visited earlier, along with the rest of her costume.

Layla sways to the music, making her way around the perimeter of the stage, getting to know the crowd, pulling in their interest, tossing them smiles and waves of her flouncy hair, and intentionally not making eye contact with me. She stops midstroll and sends a wink in Sammy’s direction. I see Bernatelli’s jaw clench, and his hand tightens around the glass the waitress has brought him as Layla intentionally ignores him, dancing away from their table while continuing to toy with the crowd. My princess teases the group so sinfully, making us wait with just the right amount of anticipation. She lowers her sensually clad body to the floor, intimately engaging us in a dance between her and the hardwood she lies on, leaving every red-blooded man in the room panting and wanting more. Layla takes her time, working the crowd up, writhing on the floor some more before slowly arching her body into the pose I’ve seen before, giving the audience a very intimate view of her G-string decorated and upended ass.

Layla isn’t in a hurry. She intends to tease, keeping us engrossed with her dance as she touches the delicate strings of her bikini top, teasing and tormenting us while making her way to the pole. The room has gone completely quiet because everyone in this room knows what will eventually come, and the stillness in the air can measure the anticipation and arousal she draws from the crowd.

Layla slowly spins around the silver rod in the center of the stage. She is a fiery vision in her skimpy outfit and five-inch heels as she toys with the pole and every man in the room.

Layla loses herself in the music, teasing as she lifts herself onto the pole, holding a pose, stretched high in the air and guiding herself with her calves and ankles, which are wrapped seductively around the pole’s shiny thin circumference. She is absorbed with the tune and slides around the pole, gracefullydisplaying her lithe body for the crowd, teasing us with each tantalizing move she makes before landing on the floor.

She starts the tease working towards the big reveal, the one the crowd of men has been dying for, caressing the side of her G-string panties before spinning around and around and around. Layla has us enthralled, wondering when her top will come off, and everyone waits with an aroused breath. And this time, she gives the bright red string a tug displaying her perfect breasts to every horny man in the room, including myself.

When she returns to the pole, she changes her routine to the one she created, a masterfully orchestrated dance that displays her grace, strength, and every facet of her amazingly perfect body. She hangs in the air, giving the room a wide, bright smile, holding herself upright with the strength of her arms and a dainty ankle wrapped seductively around the silver rod. Layla winds down with a slow and seductive finish, keeping us all on edge, twirling in the air, and fascinating us with her strength and agility. She flips from the pole, landing perfectly, which sends the audience into a loud frenzy before taking a bow and parading ever indecently from the stage and out of my sight.

As if on cue, Bernatelli leans over and says something to Sammy, which causes his hand to tighten around the glass of whiskey he’s drinking, but his face remains passive as he listens to his boss.

Bernatelli stands and heads to the back. I engage the camera and audio on my phone as he walks through the door that leads him down a short hall to the girls’ dressing room. He doesn’t knock, just barges through the door. Layla starts and spins to face him at the sound of the intrusion. She’s by herself, and, fortunate for Bernatelli, she’s already pulled on a tank top, covering herself from his view.

“Going forward, you’ll dance here on the weekends and keep my bed warm after your shows. You’ll move into an apartmentthat I keep. Now isn’t that better than the deal you discussed with Sammy?”

“So much better. You sure do know how to treat a girl, Mr. Bernatelli,” Layla purrs.

Chapter 18

Dereck

Every muscle in my body tightens, listening to this exchange. Layla has the kingpin of Chicago wrapped around her dainty little finger. I know precisely why Layla is trying to get close to the man, coaxing him to confide in her or let something slip that would help find her sister, but that doesn’t ease my annoyance to any degree. I’ll let this play out as long as she’s safe, but Layla can bet her sweet little ass that it won’t be for long because she is mine, and I do not share.

Bernatelli moves closer, and Layla backs away, causing me to smile for the first time since I got to the club. “A couple of things we still need to talk about if we’re looking for exclusivity,” she says.

His eyes darken, and my entire body tenses knowing I’m at least three minutes from that fucking room if things go south. I scan the bar, taking in the guards who’ve come out from the back to watch the newest girl on the stage take it all off. I give my teammate across the room a nod, letting him know without words to get ready. With one wrong word Bernatelli, he’ll find himself surrounded by me and my entire team, and they’ve already been to the mats with this son of a bitch before.

“I’ll forgive you, this one time, sweetheart, but see, around this club and every one of the clubs on the west side, I call the shots, including our arrangement. Is that clear?” Bernatelli says, reaching out a hand and grabbing a handful of hair before pulling her to him.

My fist clenches with the need to do something, and it takes every bit of the willpower I have to hold back, see where this is going, and what she has planned before I intercede.

“Easy! I was just going to ask for a little time during the day to do a few things, you know, things a girl likes to do to please her man. I like to be baby smooth when I dance and play, and you know, nails, and well, that’s all I was going to ask. I thought you might have a place you send your special girls that I might be able to go to without spending a fortune,” Layla says, batting her long made-up eyelashes.

Bernatelli smiles widely. “I like your style, Layla. Calculating, greedy, and straight to the point, but gorgeous as fuck. Consider it done. I’ll have someone brought around to pick you up and take you to the salon tomorrow. In the meantime, why don’t you get that pretty little ass ready for the late crowd, and then you can show me how much you appreciate my generosity later.”

Layla runs her finger down his cheek and trails his lips, causing my jaw to tighten. “That all sounds fine, but what should I tell Sammy?” she says, pretending to pout.

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