Page 21 of Sacred Vow

TILLY

T he seductive music vibrates through me as I stroll through the VIP floor of Vixen, my gaze darting from left to right. I don’t see Caesar here yet, but I feel his presence. He would have clocked me the second I walked in, but unfortunately for him, I won’t be making it easy for him tonight.

I feel men’s hungry stares on my body, and as I make my way around the room, taking in both the wild and tame sights, I sense them trying to lure me in.

Every set of eyes I meet has a motive to touch me, to taste me, to see how far they can push my boundaries, and while on any other night, I would have easily fallen victim to these men’s charms, tonight is all about exploring Caesar.

Making my way across the floor, I settle at the bar, delicately sliding my ass onto one of the high-top stools and placing my purse down on the pristine bar before me. The bartender immediately strides over, offering me a welcoming smile. “What can I get for you?”

I automatically go to ask for a Moscato, when it occurs to me that I’m going to need something a little stronger tonight. I’m not the shy type, and I’m certainly not one who suffers from nerves, but right now, I’m wound up tighter than Chloe on a first date.

I shouldn’t be. It’s not as though I haven’t already fallen apart for this man.

I’ve sat on his couch, spread-eagled, and tormented him as I pushed his cum back inside my pussy.

If I can do that without so much as blinking, then meeting him here tonight shouldn’t be an issue. And yet, my damn hands are shaking.

“I’ll take a vodka soda. Heavy on the vodka.”

“Coming right up,” he says, getting straight to work in front of me and putting on a show as he effortlessly whips the bottles around. “Needing to take the edge off, huh?”

I scoff, appalled at myself. “Apparently.”

The bartender chuckles to himself, and not a moment later, he places my drink down in front of me and moves down the bar to help the next customer.

I can’t help but wonder about all the crazy things he’s seen working here.

I bet he has a million wild stories. Personally, if I were in the market for a job and knew anything about mixing drinks, I could see myself working here.

I’d love it. Though, I’m pretty sure I’d constantly be distracted and end up throwing myself at the VIP members, which would probably get me fired.

The thought has me laughing to myself, and as if on cue, a familiar face strides through the VIP door behind me, forcing one hell of an awkward cringe across my face.

As if sensing that I’m the one person in the room who doesn’t want his attention, his gaze lifts directly to mine. My stomach sinks, and I watch as that split second of recognition hits him before coming to a stop and immediately stepping into me.

“Well, shit,” Izaac says, staring back at me as he awkwardly puts his arm around me before dropping a swift kiss to my cheek and hastily retreating. “Aspen didn’t mention you were dropping by tonight.”

Shit. Shit. Shit.

In all of my nervous excitement, I forgot to message my cousin and let her know that I was going to swing by. It’s not exactly a necessity. However, it keeps us from running into awkward situations like this, especially considering her boyfriend owns the place.

Aspen and I grew up together, so there’s not a lot we haven’t witnessed each other doing, but participating in wild activities in a sex club isn’t an experience we particularly need to share. But it’s also not an experience I feel the need to share with her boyfriend either.

Izaac was always around growing up. Wherever Aspen and her brother, Austin, were, Izaac was right there too.

He was at all the birthday parties, Christmas celebrations, anniversaries, or just the occasional family barbeque, and because of that, I’ve always considered him extended family as well.

So this right here . . . I’m not feeling great about it.

“I, ummm . . . apparently forgot to let her know.”

Izaac laughs. “Well, this doesn’t make for an awkward night at all.”

“Mmmm,” I agree, nodding vigorously as I scoop my drink off the bar and take a healthy sip, willing the liquid courage to work a little faster.

Izaac leans against the bar, staring out at his club like a bouncer surveying a dance floor. “So, you meeting anyone in particular, or are you just on the prowl?”

I choke on my drink as Izaac laughs, knowing damn well that this isn’t a conversation either of us wants to have, but being the younger cousin of the family, relentless teasing was basically a requirement.

“I am not having this conversation with you,” I say before my eyes go wide. “Crap. Tell me Austin isn’t here.”

“Yeah, he’s just out back. I’ll go grab him for you,” he tells me, already stepping away.

“WHAT! NO!” I rush out, my heart racing in my chest. It’s one thing to run into Izaac at a place like this, but to run into Austin? Shit. That’s not something either of us wants. He’s always been an overprotective asshat, and if he sees me here, he’ll surely march my ass right back out the door.

“I’m screwing with ya,” Izaac teases. “He’s not here. Just me, but considering that you’re here, I’m going to take off and pretend this never happened or that Caesar Di Rozé hasn’t been sizing me up since the second I stopped and said hello.”

I feel my cheeks flush, and I hope like fuck that it’s just dark enough for Izaac not to notice, but he’s always been on point with this type of thing. And despite not having said a single word about Caesar, Izaac no doubt knows exactly what’s up.

I discreetly glance across the room, following Izaac’s stare, and sure enough, Caesar is sitting in a dark corner of the club, taking up a private booth and looking more delicious than ever. His black suit and the way he’s lounging in the booth have every part of me weakening.

With one arm slung over the edge of the booth and one foot propped over his knee, he casually sips his drink as though he has all the time in the world.

The woman I’d seen him with the last time I was here is draped over him in a red bandage dress, but he barely seems to notice her.

His gaze is locked solely on mine as she chats animatedly to him.

I won’t lie. I’m jealous. And that’s not something I’ve ever been, especially when it comes to a man.

I’d give anything to be able to drape myself over him like that, to have his hand possessively fall to my thigh as I tell him all about my day. Only difference is, if I were going to be draped over a man, I would have his whole attention, and he sure as fuck wouldn’t be looking at another woman.

As if noticing that Caesar doesn’t give a single flying fuck about whatever she’s talking about, the woman follows his stare across the club, landing directly on me, and as her grip tightens on his arm, a scowl stretches across her lips.

She’s finally realizing that she has more than just a little bit of competition tonight.

“Fucking hell. That looks messy,” Izzac mutters under his breath. “I’m going to take off before Annie tries to gouge out your eyes.”

“What?” I demand, my gaze whipping back to Izzac. “Would she really?”

“No,” he laughs. “But that doesn’t mean she’s harmless. She’s had a warped sense of ownership over Caesar for years.”

Years? Jesus. They’ve been doing this dance for that long? “And Caesar?” I ask, my gaze still locked on the mysteriously hypnotic man across the club.

Izaac chuckles. “I don’t think he even remembers her name,” he tells me, before turning and meeting my stare.

“What I do know is that while he’s more than happy to indulge in everything this club has to offer, he’s not the type to blatantly ignore the woman he was with or focus so heavily on a woman who was clearly talking to another man. He doesn’t cross lines.”

“Oh, I have it on good authority that he loves crossing all sorts of lines.”

Izaac shakes his head and looks away. “I don’t want to know,” he says, watching Annie continue to glare at me. “Just keep your eyes open. Caesar is clearly intrigued by you, and while he’s a good man and isn’t going to hurt you, he’s definitely got some demons.”

My brows furrow, and I go to ask about it when Izaac turns around to face his bartender. “Anything she wants,” Izaac tells him. “It’s on the house.”

And with that, he offers me a small smile before shoving his hands into his pockets and striding away.

My attention turns right back to Caesar, and I can’t stop wondering about what kind of demons keep him up at night, but as that dark, penetrating stare quickly holds me captive, all train of thought falls out of my head.

God. He’s so delicious.

His gaze narrows, a silent challenge flashing in his eye, daring me to make the first move.

He wants me to come to him, to march my ass across this club and fall to my knees, begging for his attention. But he’s got another thing coming if he thinks that’s about to happen, especially while he has another woman draped across him like a delicate fabric molding to his body.

Hmm. Peculiar.

I’ve never been a jealous woman. Never felt possessive over a man or cared when a friend would bat her eyelashes at a guy I was seeing, but right now, I want to punch this woman right in the tit simply for existing in his orbit.

She’s had years of having him. Of tasting him. Of pleasing him. And now, it’s my turn.

A sultry smile pulls across my lips, and I lean back against the bar, crossing my legs as I lift my drink and openly eye-fuck Caesar across the room, not giving a shit how Annie glares at me. She’s had more than her fair share.

I sip my drink, making it known that I have absolutely no intention of playing by his rules tonight, and when other men start to notice just how lonely I am over here and try to get my attention, it’s all that Caesar can handle.