How to Marry Your Frenemy - London Casey Page 0,29

Vixxy’s cheek.

“You’re beautiful, Vixxy,” I said.

“Same to you, Callie,” she said.

She inched down to her knees and turned a little, pointing her ass at Vince.

She was good. She knew how to work the table.

I respected her.

She knew her business, perfected her art, and understood her customer.

And for that she probably made a ton of money and left a lot of guys ordering another drink and adjusting their boners.

I turned my head just a little so Vixxy could kiss my cheek.

When she did, I looked at Jackson and winked.

He had his mouth shut but I could still tell he was gritting his teeth.

This was driving him nuts.

No matter how hard he tried to fight it off, the thought of me with another woman was too much for him to handle.

Vixxy leaned back and rested her back against the pole in the center of the table.

She put her head back and began to rock her body as though she was riding some guy.

I looked at Jackson again and nodded.

His lip fluttered for a second like he was going to curl it, then he turned his head to focus on Vixxy.

I went back to thinking.

Vince had all the data on LoriTech. What he wanted was for Jackson and I to do the same research he had done to make sure everything was on the up and up. But he didn’t ask for the help. He never wanted to look weak. Researching wasn’t weakness, but to Vince it kind of was. He wanted to be the guy who knew everything all the time. Nobody knew that he stayed up until all hours of the night looking into companies, ideas, etcetera…

I knew that though.

I kept my eyes open and studied everything and everyone.

All I needed to do was show the same care that Vince did and…

“How about another drink, Callie?” Jackson offered.

Vixxy had turned to face Vince.

I leaned to my right and looked around her ass cheeks.

She wore a thong in the sense of the word thong. It was three pieces of red string. Thinner than thread.

Jackson leaned to his left to see me.

Our eyes locked.

Vixxy’s ass wiggled.

The music throughout the club thumped.

He thought he was going to get me to crack over a strip club and unlimited drinks?

You’re a dead man, Jackson, and you don’t even know it.

Okay, that last drink was the one that put me over the edge.

The second it hit my stomach, a signal blazed through my body to stop.

Anything after that drink and I was going to be making out with a toilet for the rest of the night.

And there was no way in hell I was going to (a) throw up at the strip club and (b) allow Jackson to hold my hair and be there while I threw up.

“One more?” Jackson asked.

“Of course,” I said.

“You really know how to handle yourself, Callie,” Vince said.

“Is it really that surprising?” I asked.

Vince pretended to shiver. “You can be damn cold sometimes, too.”

“I have no choice. I’m living in your world, Vince.”

“My world?” he asked.

“It’s all about the men, right? Look where we are right now. Nothing but tits and ass. Drinks overflowing. Asshole guys with these fantasies that one of these women will go home with them.”

“That part is true for me,” Jackson said.

I looked at him and curled my lip. “What?”

“Vixxy’s one friend. Shelly’s another. I think she’s on stage right now.”

My head whipped to the right.

I squinted my eyes.

There was a woman on stage that had hips like a battering ram. Curves like an hourglass. Big and full breasts. And a piercing in each nipple.

“Bullshit,” I said.

“What does it matter to you?” Jackson asked. “Our bedroom walls don’t touch. You won’t hear me fucking her.”

I looked at Jackson again. “Well, good for you.”

“I take it you’ll need some batteries for your fun tonight?”

“Fuck you, Jackson,” I said. “It’s heartwarming you worry about me like that. But, honestly, fuck you. And you know what?” I moved my eyes to Vince. “I played your game tonight. How about we go somewhere else now? My choice.”

“Where to?” Vince asked.

“You want to go to a male strip club, don’t you?” Jackson asked.

I laughed. “See? That’s your problem. You think I’m as pathetic as a guy. I have no desire to go see some guys slapping their balls against the insides of their legs while pretending to be a cowboy or a construction worker.”

“No?” Jackson asked.

“Look, we all know that a woman’s body was meant to be looked at and cherished. But a