Crazy Eights (Stacked Deck #8) - Emilia Finn Page 0,5
liar, I do bad things, and I say mean things about people who don’t deserve it. I have a million faults, but going to bed with a man simply because of his financial status…” I shake my head and try once again to rid my mind of a certain someone’s face.
I never went to bed with my first boyfriend because of his money. In fact, his money was what stopped me for so long. But in the end, we did sleep together, we fell in love, then on my way out the door, I stole from him, and switched off my phone. Now years have passed, and I refuse to find him again.
In his mind, I was probably the whore who wanted a romp with a rich guy. And knowing there’s a chance he thinks that breaks my heart.
When Lita moves in my peripherals, I close my eyes and vow to not think of him again, then I open them and meet her gaze. “I’m not into Evan. But if that’s the way you want to swing, I bet we could tempt him, and get you an invite to his apartment.”
“Ugh.” She spins away when I stand, and hooks her arm in mine when I walk beside her. “You’ve been invited into his friggin’ lair! That’s not something he does freely, but nooooo,” she drags the word out. “You bring your booty to our door, you ask for a job, you work for three-point-two seconds, and bam! Evan McFreakinGrady is all ‘oh Mylanta, who is that exquisite creature?’”
“He did not say that,” I snicker. “He didn’t say Mylanta, or exquisite, or creature. He said ass, tits, and I wanna put my cock in that tight little hole.” We pause at the doorway so our eyes meet. “Excuse my sensibilities, but I didn’t feel the swoon.”
“You want the romance!” she cries out. “You want to be swept off your feet. But, baby, that’s not how it’s gonna work around here.” We step through the door and onto a mezzanine-type level that sits high above a club. “What you’re gonna get is either a life of struggle and men trying to fuck you, even without your permission, or you’re gonna get Evan McGrady, who will protect you, feed you, and—”
“Also fuck me without my permission?” I lift a brow as we make our way down the metal staircase and past men who drink and touch their dicks while watching us with lewd sneers. “I get the feeling he’s gonna demand whatever he wants, then he’s gonna take whatever he wants, whether I’m interested or not.”
“But…” She turns to me with genuine confusion in her eyes. “But if you’re with him, he doesn’t need to—”
“Ask?” I shake my head. “You’re wrong. Really, really wrong. And that’s not the kind of life I see for myself, so…”
“Let’s go, Tori!”
I turn and smile for a man I know by face, but not by name. He’s a regular, a little bit country, a little bit cowboy, but he has cash, and he’s always a gentleman.
He rushes from his seat just a few feet from the stage, offers his hands – one for me, and one for Lita – and helps us onstage even though he’s not supposed to touch.
Loud boos echo through the club, angry protests from men who would prefer to watch us climb on our own, but this guy seems impervious to the hate, and insists on being a gentleman. For some strange reason, he’d rather spend his time here, ogling the girls at Zeus’ even knowing that whatever attention he receives, was bought, instead of at home, married to a woman who adores him for free, and with two and a half kids on the way.
“Ladies.” He does a kind of bow, a wicked, playful grin, and ignores the hollers and complaints being thrown at his back. “Good luck tonight. Knock us dead.”
Weird pep talk. But okay. “Thanks, handsome.” I smile for him, wink, because that’s all I’m allowed – or willing – to give, then I step onto the stage that stands about four feet off the floor, look up to the door Lita and I just walked through, and when my eyes meet those of Evan McGrady himself as he stands at the banister and looks down at us, I nibble on the inside of my cheek and give him none of the nerves I feel, none of the disgust, none of my bubbling resentment.