Page 66 of Held-

“Didn't realize it was Domino's party,” I admit, leaning against the doorframe.

“Clearly,” Tasha snorts. She turns back to Cece. “I was just telling your girl here that we're not usually quite so...” she pauses, searching for the right word, “...excessive. I mean, don't get me wrong, the boys are always animals, but the strippers are special occasion only.”

I watch Cece's face carefully, trying to gauge how much damage control I need to do. To my surprise, she doesn't look horrified. Uncomfortable, yes, but she’s not checking for escape routes.

“I'm fine, really,” Cece insists, though her knuckles are white around her beer bottle. “It's just...a lot to take in at once.”

“That’s one way of putting it,” Tasha laughs. “My first club party? I made it twenty minutes before locking myself in the bathroom and crying until Dom took me home.”

“But you didn’t let it scare you off,” I say.

“What can I say? I love the bastard. Speaking of which, I should get back to the birthday boy,” Tasha says, standing up and smoothing her jeans. “You two good here?”

“We're fine,” I answer before Cece can speak. “Thanks for the rescue mission.”

Tasha winks at Cece. “Us old ladies have to stick together. Come find me if you need another break from the testosterone.”

I watch Tasha saunter back down the hallway. When we're alone, Cece looks up at me with those big green eyes, uncertaintywritten all over her face. “I'm sorry if I embarrassed you,” she says quietly.

“Embarrassed me?” I push off the doorframe and move to sit beside her. “Why the fuck would you think that?”

She shrugs, picking at the label on her beer bottle. “This is your world, and I'm clearly not...part of it. I stick out like a preacher at a porn convention.”

I can't help the laugh that escapes me. “You're worried about embarrassing me? In this fucking place?”

“Well, yeah.” She gestures vaguely toward the hallway where the sounds of the party booms. “I'm clearly not the type of woman your friends expected you to bring around.”

I reach for her hand, relieved when she doesn't pull away. “Trust me, princess, if anyone should be embarrassed, it's me. I shouldn't have brought you here tonight.”

“Because you're ashamed of me?”

“Christ, no.” I tug her closer until our thighs touch on the worn leather couch. “Because I wanted to ease you into this world, not throw you into the deep end.”

She smiles a little at that, her fingers relaxing in mine. “I'm tougher than I look, you know.”

“I know exactly how tough you are.” I brush my thumb across her knuckles. “That's not the point.”

“Then what is the point?”

I exhale slowly, trying to organize my thoughts. The shots I downed aren't helping with clarity. “The point is that this—” I gesture toward the party “—isn't who we are all the time. It's not who I am. Normally, when shit gets wild like this, I make an appearance, drink a beer, and head out.”

“You’re telling me, in complete seriousness, you have never participated in a club party? With all those naked girls out there begging for your attention.”

“I won’t lie to you and say that I am a Boy Scout. I spent my fair share of nights with club girls in the early days. But that shit gets old fast.”

“So what changed?”

“I did.” I run a hand through my hair, struggling to articulate something I've never had to explain before. “Look, when you first patch in, everything's a fucking rush. The brotherhood, the parties, the women who throw themselves at you just because of what you're wearing on your back. It's easy to get caught up in it.”

“But you didn't.”

“No, I did. For a while. Then you realize most of those women don't give a shit about you. They either want a property patch or just want to fuck around.”

“What's a property patch?” Cece asks, her head tilting slightly. Her fingers trace the beer label, picking at the corner where the condensation has loosened the paper.

I run my hand through my hair, wondering how to explain this particular aspect of club life without making her run screaming.

“It signals commitment. A brother chooses a woman, she gets a property patch, and the club recognizes her as someone they safeguard. Nobody crosses that line.”