Total pages in book: 33
Estimated words: 30636 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 153(@200wpm)___ 123(@250wpm)___ 102(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 30636 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 153(@200wpm)___ 123(@250wpm)___ 102(@300wpm)
I’m a heartless bastard, but her question makes it impossible not to reply.
“I saw some of it,” I finally say, settling for a half-lie. “You were pretty good.”
She beams. It’s kind of cute how desperate she is for my approval.
“Hey, princess.” One of the guests from the club is waiting for us, leaning against the wall and devouring Hazel with his hungry eyes. “You looked good up there.”
Hazel flushes, nodding as she mutters, “Thanks.”
I glare at the guy, forcing myself not to smash my fist into his nose. I hate the way he looks at her—as if she’s a piece of meat he’s getting ready to devour. The desire to throw her over my shoulder and carry her the hell out of here is almost too strong, and I have to force myself to keep my cool. Fuck me, this girl is really getting under my skin.
“Step aside,” I mutter at the guy, and he raises his hands in defeat.
“Sure, boss, sure.”
I’m sure he’s seen me around the club often enough to know I’m in a position of power over him. And I’ve seen him plenty of times too, the cheap bastard. He tips in one-dollar bills. He even tips the servers more, and he takes full advantage of our buffet. But for once, his attention isn’t on the barbecue wings he loves so much. No, all he sees now is Hazel. He licks his lips hungrily, making me itch for a punch.
As we pass, me walking in front of Hazel, he makes a grab for her, saying, “How about a private dance, princess?”
She cries out, ripping herself out of his reach and standing behind me. She already knows I’m going to protect her, and I curse inwardly for making her so goddamn dependent on me.
“Hey, keep your fucking hands to yourself,” I snarl at the guy. He’s a customer, I remind myself. I can’t just beat up every guy in here who’s fucking grossing me out—I’ll be going for days. “She’s not interested.”
“What are you, her pimp?” The prick snickers. “The girl can talk for herself.”
“I said she’s not available,” I hiss, nearing him with darkened eyes. “You got bad hearing, or what? How many times do I need to repeat it?”
I can feel Hazel shivering behind me. How much does this remind her of her past? All those abusive homes she’s been in, all those bad people who hurt her. I need to teach this piece of shit customer a goddamn lesson.
“Fuck you,” he slurs. The guy’s drunk off his head, and before I can react, he tries to throw a feeble punch that only makes him stumble.
In seconds, I have him backed up against the wall with my hand wrapped around his throat. He swallows thickly, raising his palms.
“Hey, I’m fucking sorry, man… I-I didn’t know she w-was one of yours,” he stutters, and I can tell it’s hard for him to speak with my death grip on his neck.
“Fucking apologize to her,” I hiss.
“W-What?”
“Say you’re sorry,” I hiss, motioning to Hazel behind me. “Tell her. Say it. Right now.”
“I…” His expression falters, but when I tighten my grip on his throat, he quickly changes his tune. “Fuck, man! You’re crazy. I’m sorry!”
“That’s right.” I release him, and he stumbles, trying to catch a breath. “Come on, Hazel.”
She falls into step behind me as the guy mutters something behind our backs. He probably won’t dare step foot into this place again. I’ve scared him off for good, robbing the girls of their hard-earned tips, but I don’t give a shit. It’s like pest control—I had to get rid of him.
And as Hazel follows in my footsteps like a lost damn puppy, I know I did the right thing. She deserves someone helping her out after a lifetime of shitty people and bad luck.
Her hand slips into mine, and I grip onto it even though I shouldn’t. She’s so damn trusting. Someone’s going to take advantage of her. And I already know I want that someone to be me.
9
Hazel
Myles barely talks to me the whole way home, and the giant pit in my gut only expands. I only made a little over a hundred dollars in tips, and I’m sure that doesn’t even cover the contact lenses he bought me.
I don’t understand why he made us leave so abruptly, but I’m too terrified to ask. Was I that terrible of a dancer? Does he think I’m bad for business? And the most scary question of all, what is going to happen now?
I enjoyed what we did last night, but I know we only scratched the surface of the kind of stuff Myles wants from me. He knows I don’t have money, so there is only one thing I can give him. He wants sex, and that scares me right about now.