Page 12 of Pink Poison (The Butchers MC #1)

An adorable flush crawls from her pale cheeks to her collarbone at my declaration.

Looking at Mae feels like I’m staring into a mirror of my past self.

Back when Teegan found me, broken and ashamed—before she fixed my crown back on my head.

“Thanks, Stevie. I appreciate having someone in my corner,” she whispers.

I wave her comment off. I don’t need thanks for doing the right thing. “I had someone in my corner when I needed it. It’s only right that I get to be in yours now.”

Her smile brightens as she waves for me to follow her. “Come on. We have to get you to the office before Atticus sends a search party.”

Flipping my hair over my shoulder, I fall back into step behind her—more than ready to get this meeting with Atticus over with. “Anything I should know about him wanting to see me?” I ask.

The second we leave the last step on the staircase, her energy shifts. From the way she carries her stride, to the subtle dip of her shoulders. It’s alarming how different she is from only seconds ago. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say she doesn’t want anyone to know that we’re getting along.

“Not that I know of,” she murmurs .

We breach the doors of the main floor and turn towards a quiet hallway.

The further we walk, the harder it gets to breathe.

I don’t enjoy the idea of being alone with Atticus again, especially far away where no one could hear me.

Get it together, Stevie. If he tries something, kick him in the balls.

Abruptly, Mae stops in front of a large oak door. “This is where I leave ya,” she whispers.

And she walks away, leaving me to face the man behind this door alone with a tight knot in my stomach. Exhaling harshly, I pull myself together and pound my fist against the door.

“Come in,” Atticus commands.

Sex. Sex and the familiar, cloying stench of spiced cologne envelops me as I open the door. It’s disgusting and somehow the only fitting smell for him. Douchebag. “You wanted to see me?” I ask.

He stands behind a dark, modern-esque desk, wearing a blank expression.

I roam my gaze over him, taken by surprise at his seemingly dressed down form.

His dark suit jacket sits haphazardly slung over his desk while the sleeves of his black button-down are rolled over his ghostly, pale forearms. Jesus.

It’s eerie how well he transforms into someone approachable.

“Yes, cher ,” he drawls. “You have a date tonight.” My lips part to remind him of our contract that states I get to work during peak hours, when the sound of him tutting has me pressing my lips together firmly.

“You will still receive payment, Stevie. If you must take the stage tonight, you can be the closing dance.”

I grit my teeth and muster enough energy to give him a show-stopping smile. “ Great . Who is my date, and where am I expected to be?”

“You’re meeting with a good friend of mine.” He smirks, like he’s in on a secret that I know nothing about. “Creed Hill will be here to pick you up at nine sharp.”

“ Perfect ,” I snap. “I need to go home and chang— ”

He holds up his hand, effectively cutting me off. “No need. Creed has sent you a dress and proper accessories.”

Presumptuous bastard.

With a pop of my lips, I drag my stare to the large white box that’s decorated with a silky red ribbon on his desk. I hate this, that I even have to play along with this bullshit game. “Well, are you going to give me the dress?”

His fingers drum over the ledge of his desk while he cocks his head to the side.

Slowly, he moves around the desk to sit in his office chair.

“Of course,” he drawls, gesturing to the gift box.

“This goes without saying, but just in case I have to spell it out for you. I expect you to be arm candy. You will laugh at his jokes, cozy up to him, and shower him with attention throughout the meeting. You will do what Creed tells you to do— anything he tells you.” Dick.

Acid stirs in my stomach at the obvious implication.

I am nothing but a prop for Creed Hill to use, however he wants.

Snatching the box, I spin on my toes and strut out of Atticus’ office without another word.

Just because I was coerced into this role , doesn’t mean I have to be happy about it.

Walking through the hall, more employees wander amongst themselves.

Their floating whispers tickle against my ear as I approach the lobby.

Mentally, I note each snide remark and sharp stare, reminding myself to address them when I return after this date.

I do my best to abide by the unspoken rule— don’t step on anyone’s toes —while working in a new establishment, but I get the vibe that being a nice girl here will only get me chewed up and spat out.

Besides, if my gut feeling is right, these are the same catty girls who won’t let up on Mae.

And there is nothing I hate more than wannabe bullies.

Shaking the thought off, I pull the red bow from the box.

Cautiously, I lift the lid just enough to peek inside.

Ugh. What the hell is this? My nose scrunches in disdain.

A deep, sapphire blue sequin dress sits neatly folded underneath a small white envelope.

Blowing a sharp breath, I close the lid back over the box.

There’s no way I’m going to meet this guy wearing that.

Staring at my reflection, I give Mae a subtle wink as she walks into the locker room with a cheeky grin.

I look again, admiring how the bright pink, cotton dress molds to my curves.

Glancing at my phone on the vanity, I quickly snatch my dusty pink purse and the device before rushing out of the locker room, clicking my heels across the floor.

Heads turn the moment I step out into the gathering crowd, sending my nervous system into high alert.

Their sultry glances and lewd actions encourage me to take longer strides until I reach the safety of the stairs.

As much as I love putting on a show, I prefer to keep that part of me on the stage, not within arm’s reach.

I reach the lobby in record time, no worse for the wear.

Oddly enough, those on the floor were mostly mild mannered.

From the corner of my eye, an older man with more silver than peppered hair stands reclined against the wall.

Curiosity pulls me to get a full look at him.

Turning, I watch as his warm, caramel eyes light in appreciation while he observes both men and women that are gathered around him.

Despite the gnawing feeling that he’s who I’m here for, I can’t deny how attractive he looks.

Maybe it’s because I’m drawn to older men, or the fact that he’s not Atticus, but I can’t find it in me to hate the idea of being on his arm for a night .

I approach him on light feet, assuming my ditzy stage persona. Faking a stumble, I brush against his arm hard enough to drag his attention towards me. “Oh, I am so sorry,” I rush, patting his arm. “I’m so clumsy in these shoes.”

A gravelly rumble sounds from his chest as he slides a warm finger over my bare shoulder. “Don’t be sorry, angel. I think any man would kill to have you stumble into them.”

“Oh, he’s a charmer.” I giggle while twirling a strand of my hair around my hot pink-painted nail. “Are you here with someone?”

“I have a date.” He hums thoughtfully, dragging his panty-melting stare down my body. “But now I wish it were with you instead.”

Smiling, I place my free hand against his hard chest. “Who are you waiting for?”

“A woman who goes by Stevie.”

A faux gasp works its way from my lips as I push my breasts forward, grazing myself against the man. “What a coincidence! That’s my name.”

His finger freezes at my announcement before his eyes meet mine. “You’re not wearing what I sent for you.”

“I couldn’t be caught dead wearing blue.” I giggle again. “Pink is my color, don’t you think?”

He slips his finger underneath the thin strap of my dress. “I suppose this dress is more enticing.”

I pull away slowly, fluttering my lashes like he’s given me the best compliment in the world. “Well, Mr. Hill. Where do you plan to show me off tonight?”

“Memento, have you ever been?” He pushes forward from the wall before offering me his arm.

“I haven’t,” I confirm, sliding my arm through his. “It sounds mysterious. ”

“Wonderful. I’ll be taking great pleasure in knowing I’m offering you a first experience.”

Biting my bottom lip, I contain the words I want to return to him. If I push too hard, too fast—it’ll give away my real personality, and we can’t have that. Instead, I allow him to lead me away from Le Papillon with a smile on my face.