I’ve never once complained about a customer’s tip, but a guy paying a whack just to have me dance for him in a private room is something that does. Not. Happen. The flat rate is already enough to hurt the pocket. I’m really hoping it’s Cade, but I’m not sure being seen in a strip club partaking in the services would be a good look for the son of the next mayor of Chicago.
“What does he look like?” I ask, deciding that it’s probably best to do some digging before accepting whatever fate lies behind the door. I have made it a point not to do any private lap dances since Cade and I made our deal.
Brandi shoots me a grin. “He said you’d ask that and made me promise not to say anything. But girl, there is no way even you will be disappointed at this one. He’ll rue the fact that there is a no touching policy in effect.” She rubs her chin. “Although, that policy was meant for guys touching the girls—didn’t say anything about you girls touching them.” She winks at me before waving me off. “Now get your fine ass down there and make him happy. Although not that happy . . .”
“Brandi!” I gasp. “I’m kind of with someone . . . well, I am with someone. And it’s monogamous.” It’s all in or not at all, pretty much my life mantra, which is hilarious since it took Cade and I so long to realize we weren’t fooling anyone except ourselves.
“Girl, you know I don’t know the meaning of the word. Just go show the dude a good time but not too good a time. You will not regret it, babe. Know what I mean?” she jokes, elbowing me.
“Yeah, yeah. Okay.” I eye her suspiciously. She’s got a wicked gleam in her eye, one that’s usually only reserved for her sugar daddy Roger—the owner of the club.
Me and my red patent leather heels make our way down the long black carpeted corridor towards the room right at the end, the illuminated light above the door the only indication that there’s someone waiting. My heart batters my chest like a jackhammer, my nerves through the roof as I turn the handle and step into the room, ninety-nine point nine percent sure that it will be Cade waiting me—at least I hope he is, otherwise things are about to get awkward. With a smile on my face I close the door, my throat tightening when I see a tall, very well-dressed man with beautiful clear eyes and a huge bright smile on his face.
But it’s not Cade waiting for me.
It’s my ex, Bryce.
Suddenly, I’m back to the uncertain girl I was eight years ago when I first met him. I’d been nursing a bruised heart and was ripe for the picking. I’d fallen hard and fast for him. His cocky swagger, honey-colored eyes, and adorable smile had won me over quicker than a slapper could jump on a hard dick. But deceit, distrust, and drugs ruined the memory of what we had before.
He’s aged well, and definitely looks a hell of a lot better than the last time I saw him. He’d been leaner, twenty pounds below healthy for his six-foot height. His floppy black hair had been a month past needing a cut and at least a week past needing a wash, and his eyes, still the same color of green grass that you just want to get lost in.
“Hey Abs,” he says, his eyes scanning my rather exposed body from head to toe before meeting mine.
“Why are you here?”
“It’s been a long time,” he says, ignoring my question.
“You’re right. It has. Not long enough though. Why. Are. You. Here?” I repeat, my hands fisted on my hips.
I remember what Cade said to me at our first dinner/date a few months ago.
“If you ever see that asshole and I’m with you, don’t tell me because it won’t look good for the future mayor if one of his sons is facing an assault charge.”
“Baby . . .”
That sets me right off. “Oh no. You do not get to see me for the first time in six years and turn on your bullshit charm.”
His head jerks back, and I swear I can see respect in his eyes, something I can’t remember ever seeing when we were together.
“Abs, it’s not like that.”
I huff out a frustrated breath. “Then how about you tell me why you’re here.”
“I’m clean.”
“Looks like