Page 34 of Playing with Forever (Players Club Sinners #1)
Chase
I wasn’t lying when I said that Brandon’s posturing didn’t bother me in the least. It was much more fun to just not react to his annoying behavior and let him think that he’d actually impressed me. Men like him weren’t worth the time or energy.
There was, however, something that did concern me.
I was probably being overly sensitive, but we still hadn’t turned up anything incriminating on Andrea’s ex-boyfriend, Heath.
But Brandon, well, there was something about him and his interaction with Andrea that pinged my protective radar and unsettled me.
My gut instinct had always served me well, so while Andrea was talking to some work friends after dinner, I slipped away—supposedly to the bathroom—and gave Tate a call.
He picked up fairly quickly. “Do you know where I am?” Tate demanded, sounding piqued at the interruption.
“The club?” I guessed, not that I gave a fuck.
“Yes,” he grumbled. “I’m trying to relax and unwind and get laid. Go away.”
“Well, the fact that you said you’re trying means you’re not in the middle of fucking someone, so I need you to do me a favor and look up someone for me when you get into the office in the morning and dig up whatever you can on him,” I said, rubbing a hand along the back of my neck to ease the tension settling there. “It’s for Andrea.”
“Oh?” I could hear the sly grin in Tate’s voice. “Well, if it’s for Andrea…”
“Oh, fuck off,” I snapped, not in the mood to be provoked. “Just look the guy up. It’s someone she works with. I’m at an event with her and I don’t like the vibes he’s giving off.”
“Text me whatever you’ve got and I’ll go from there,” Tate said, taking things more seriously now.
As soon as we hung up I sent over Brandon’s name and the very little information I had on the guy.
It wasn’t a lot. Mainly, just his place of employment, possibly where he’d attended college and the type of car he drove.
Unfortunately, his last name, Smith, was pretty fucking common, but if anyone could find out any dirt on the guy, it would be Tate.
Just knowing his name and that he worked with Andrea was all that Tate needed to start making the connections through social media and other digital footprints.
I returned to the party. Brandon was hovering near Andrea now that I was gone, not talking to her, but the way he was watching her, with a disapproving frown on his face, rubbed me the wrong way.
The guy made my spine itch. I just couldn’t tell if it was because he was insecure and arrogant, or if it was because he was an actual threat to Andrea.
Clearly he wasn’t as nice of a guy as he’d led Andrea to believe, that was for sure, but was it because he was the kind of entitled jerk who was angry that a woman wouldn’t go out with him? Or was it something more?
Hopefully Tate’s inquest would be able to answer that question for me.
I walked over to Andrea where she was chatting with her friends.
Fuck, she was gorgeous. She was hot, yes, but she was also beautiful , and this dress reminded me of just how stunning she was.
The dark purple with her light skin and dark hair was striking, and she’d done some fun dramatic eye makeup that I couldn’t wait to see messed up with her tears of pain and pleasure.
“How you doing?” I asked, leaning in close, my lips brushing her ear.
Andrea flushed. She’d been flushing all night, eyes sparkling, as I flirted with her.
“I’m good,” Andrea whispered back to me.
“You ready to go?” Now that we’d made our appearance and stayed for dinner and the awards ceremony, I was anxious to leave this fancy event behind and have her all to myself.
Curiosity flickered in her eyes. “Go?”
“To the club,” I murmured.
Andrea flushed harder. I could feel everyone in the group staring at us and I didn’t give a damn. I’d made it clear tonight that everyone knew Andrea was mine and that I wanted her, and I was just enough of a possessive bastard to be a bit smug about it now.
“Yes,” she agreed. “I’m more than ready.”
She made her excuses gracefully, and I was sure that everyone knew we were leaving so I could fuck her, even if they didn’t know exactly where we were going or what the rest of the night would entail for us.
Lately I’ve been drawn to tough bodyguards who drive me crazy in bed. Oh, I was more than ready to show her just how crazy I could make her.
I kept my hand on the small of her back as we left and went to the valet to get the car.
I headed right for the club. I knew we were both dressed a little fancy for a sex club, but hey, people fucked there out in public.
Rules were out the window. People wore gimp suits and played at being puppies or wore bondage corsets and chastity belts.
Nobody at the club gave a shit or judged anyone else, which was the beauty of a place like that.
I escorted her inside and I could feel a few people staring—mostly at Andrea.
She blushed a little, but I made a point to parade her around the club.
She looked amazing and I wanted everyone to see that, wanted her to realize how special she was and, okay, selfishly I wanted every man in the place to know she was mine , too.
“Starting to feel a bit like a prize,” she muttered crankily.
I laughed and patted the hand tucked into the crook of my arm. “That’s because you are a prize. You deserve to know your worth and be the center of attention.”
We had made a full circuit at that point and reached the bar again. “Want anything to drink?”
“No, I’m good. I had that champagne earlier.”
“Great.” I grabbed her hand, anxious to get her alone, strip her naked, and have my way with her. “Let’s—”
“Oh my God, Chase?”
I turned at the mention of my name, shocked to see Naomi Starr, the A-list actress I’d spent the week guarding, standing there.
She hadn’t been an awful client, just a bit self-centered without realizing that’s how she behaved.
A lot of celebrities were like that. Very accustomed to everything orbiting around them.
Clearly, she’d somehow managed to get herself an invitation into The Players Club.
Naomi was dressed up like she was going to do a burlesque show in the lounge, with lots of rhinestones on her lingerie and sparkling pasties with tassels over her nipples. Not really my thing, personally, but I was sure she’d have no shortage of offers tonight.
“Hey, enjoying yourself?” I asked, stopping for a moment to be polite.
“Oh, so much,” she purred, putting her hand on my forearm and leaning close. “I was hoping to see you here.”
My brows flew up in shock, because as her security detail she’d given me no indication that she was attracted to me. Or maybe it was because I wasn’t attracted to her and had missed the signs?
“Oh?” I said, not sure how else to respond.
Naomi laughed and stroked my arm. “You can’t be all that surprised. It’s been so hot watching you do your thing, protecting me and looking so…alpha.”
At my side, Andrea had a coughing fit.
Naomi didn’t even look in Andrea’s direction. It was like Andrea didn’t exist.
“I’m flattered.” I gently removed Naomi’s hand from my arm, trying to figure out a way to let her down easy so I didn’t offend her. “But as one of my clients, I’m afraid mixing business and pleasure isn’t something I do. I wouldn’t want to compromise my professional role.”
“Aww, c’mon, don’t tell me you don’t want to get a little of your Kevin Costner on,” she said, referencing the iconic movie, The Bodyguard.
Naomi pouted up at me, her brown eyes peeking up through her lashes. She was beautiful, no denying it, but I suspected she wouldn’t be able to handle what I really enjoyed. I already had a woman who did and would and had. And no one, no matter how beautiful, could hold a candle to Andrea.
“I’m afraid not,” I insisted. “But I hope you have fun tonight.”
I looked over at Andrea. “Shall we get a room?”
Andrea was bristling like a wet cat, claws out. It was adorable. “Let’s,” she snapped.
I almost laughed out loud at her little tantrum, but I didn’t want to provoke her in front of Naomi and potentially extend our conversation. I took Andrea’s hand and tugged her along up the stairs, and once we were in one of the private rooms, Andrea whirled on me.
Her eyes flashed with heat and accusation. “Care to explain what that was?”
“ That ,” I said, stripping out of my tuxedo jacket and setting it on the back of the couch in the room, “was a client who wants to play out her silly little bodyguard fantasies at the club.”
Andrea rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest, pure defiance rippling off her. “Like you weren’t checking out those perky sparkly boobs of hers?”
I couldn’t help it—I grinned, which seemed to only make her more irritated. “Are you jealous?” I asked, casually rolling up the sleeves of my dress shirt.
Andrea huffed. “Why would I be jealous of an over the top diva who wants everyone to worship her?”
“Oh, you are. You’re jealous.” This delighted me.
“I don’t appreciate being ignored while she’s fawning all over you,” Andrea gritted out. “I came here with you, as your guest, and that should be clear. She had the audacity to just come up to you and act like she had a claim to you.”
I stepped up to Andrea, and using my index finger beneath her chin, I tipped her head back, forcing her to look into my eyes. “Sounds to me like someone needs to be reminded that one of the most important parts of a dom-sub relationship is trust .”
Andrea cocked an eyebrow, clearly not impressed.
“You need to trust,” I purred, slowly dragging that same finger down her chest and along the deep plunging neckline of her dress, watching as her nipples tightened against the fabric, “that you’re the only woman I want, that you’re more than enough for me, and not even a woman in flashy tassels is going to change that fact.
What if I’d gone off the handle about Brandon earlier? ”
Her lips pursed, her spine still stiff. “That’s not the same thing.”