“Yeah, dance for us, slut,” the man in the corner said. He reached into his pants and pulled out his penis, then grinned as he began stroking it.
I tried to move out of the room, but the man who was holding me just gripped me harder. I screamed as loud as I could and bit him in the arm. But he just laughed. “I think she likes it rough,” he said, pushing me up against the door, his hands moving over my ass. “You like it rough, baby?”
Suddenly, the door behind us went flying open, and Colt was standing there. He took in the scene, and when he realized what was going on, his eyes blazed. “What the fuck is going on in here?” he demanded.
“Nothing,” the guy in the corner said, adjusting himself back into his pants.
“Get the fuck out of here,” Colt said to them.
“Aww, come on, man, we were just having some fun,” the guy who grabbed me said.
“Get the fuck out of my club,” Colt growled, grabbing the man by the neck. He squeezed until the man gasped, then finally released him. “And don’t come back.”
The men looked at each other, obviously deciding if they wanted to fight him on it. But they must have decided I wasn’t worth it, because they shook their heads and walked out the door.
“Are you okay?” Colt asked, rushing over to me. He took my hands and looked me over, his gaze roaming over my body, making sure I hadn’t been harmed.
“I’m fine,” I said. “It was no big deal.”
“It is a big deal,” he said. “You have bruises on your arms.” His fingertips slid up my body, checking me over. “Did they hurt you?”
“No,” I said, shaking my head. “You came in before anything could happen. I’m fine.”
“Wait here,” he said, turning around and heading for the door. I knew where he was going – he was going to run after those guys and do God knows what to them. I remembered what he’d done to those men on the street earlier, and I reached out and grabbed Colt’s arm, pulling him back toward me.
“No,” I said. “Please, don’t. It’s not worth it.”
He shook out of my grasp and took another step toward the door but then turned around. “What the hell were you doing back here anyway?”
“Jessa sent me back here,” I said. “She told me I needed to bring those guys some champagne.”
“Jessa sent you back here?” he repeated. He shook his head. “No. She wouldn’t have done that.”
“She did.”
He opened his mouth to protest again, but then he shut it. “It doesn’t matter. This is over.”
“What’s over?”
“This. Our arrangement.” He took my hand and led me back out through the curtain, through the club and into the hallway of back offices.
He pulled me into the room I’d been in earlier, the room where I’d done my audition. As soon as I saw it – the pole in the middle, the big chairs set up – it came back to me. How close Colt and I had come to kissing, his lips inches from mine, his hands on my body, guiding my hips, instructing me to undress.
“Sit down,” Colt demanded.
I sat down in one of the big leather chairs, sinking back into the supple fabric.
He crossed the room to a small refrigerator in a corner, pulled out a bottle of water and handed it to me. “Drink,” he instructed.
“I’m not thirsty.”
“Drink.”
I took a sip.
A second later, he took off the black sweater he was wearing and draped it over my shoulders. “We’re done,” he said. “We’re not doing this anymore.”
“What?”
“We’re not doing this anymore. The deal is off.”
“The deal is off because some guys grabbed at my ass?” I shook my head. “Wow, Colt, I didn’t peg you for a quitter.”
“A quitter?” he raged. “Are you insane? This isn’t about quitting, Olivia, this is about making sure you stay safe.”
“I am safe!”
“You’re not.”
“Yeah, well, I was until Jessa decided to send me back to the wolves,” I muttered, taking another sip of my water. A rage was building up inside of me, the kind of rage that made me want to run out there and slap her in the face. It wasn’t fair. She hated me because she had a thing with Colt, and she was ruining my chance to find Declan.
Colt shook his head. “Jessa wouldn’t have done that,” he said.
“Whatever.”
“We’re going home.”
“What?”
“We’re leaving. Me and you. I’m taking you home.”
He left the room and returned a few moments later with my clothes and my bag. I was angry. Angry at Jessa, angry at Colt, angry at myself for thinking that maybe something was going to go my way for once, that maybe someone was going to help me.
“No,” I said, acting like a baby and not caring. I sunk down in the chair and crossed my arms over my chest. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“Yes, you are. Come on.”
“You can’t make me.” It was maybe the most ridiculous thing I’d said in my life, but I didn’t care.