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Zeus

CHAPTER EIGHT

I've never liked coming to SIN, not because I don't appreciate scantily clad women—quite the opposite. Sex is a fundamental part of my existence. My appetite is voracious, even if I quickly tire of the company I've chosen.

Only a teenager would believe the speed at which they claim to be in love, and I'm far from na?ve, which makes me believe that their interest basically revolves around the prospect of becoming Mrs. Zeus Kostanidis, wife of the man with one of the largest fortunes in the United States.

Yes, I'm a cynic at heart. I believe that in a competition between love and money, the latter wins hands-down. In fact, I think what they call love is nothing more than prolonged lust that will eventually burn out.

However, it's not the nightclub environment that made me isolate myself in the first room I found with the curtains open. It's because I'm desperate to go home and I can't.

Rey Cardona, the Spanish businessman we're waiting for, is late, and I'm not in the mood to drink with Ares' friends.

If only my other brothers were here already, it would make everything more bearable, but Hades said he won't come and Dionysus will arrive later.

Damn it, how Ares manages to come to this place every damn night, I'll never understand.

I rest my head on the couch and close my eyes, trying to relax for just five minutes before I have to go back to my brother. I'll give that damn Spanish guy thirty more minutes. If he doesn't show up, screw the acquisition of his companies. Nothing is worth this amount of my time.

To make matters worse, I had to leave my phone at the entrance, like any other customer. Following rules that aren't my own doesn't sit well with me.

I'm somewhere between a doze and consciousness when soft footsteps wake me up.

I sit up straight because it's in my nature to always be alert, but I expected to find a security guard notifying me that Rey had arrived, not one of the dancers who work for my brother.

My initial instinct is to tell her to leave, but that doesn't even last a fraction of a second. At thirty-four years old and having had several women in my life, I don't need much time to recognize someone I desire. And this beauty wrapped in a tiny purple silk robe requires no effort to become the target of my desire.

This isn't the first time I've been here, and even though the dancers are instructed not to flirt with customers, as SIN is not a brothel, I can't help but notice the glances the employees of my brother give me. None of them have interested me so far. Not because of their profession but because I never mix work and pleasure. And even though they provide services for Ares, in my view, it's all the same.

The woman in front of me makes me forget each one of those fucking rules I've imposed on myself.

And she's staring back, but not in the way I'm used to, giving me an opening for an approach. Instead, it’s with a mixture of interest and, if I'm not mistaken, a desire to escape.

I don't hide how much I appreciate what I see, from her long legs, made even more tantalizing by the sandals with very high heels she wears, to the suggestive neckline of the robe that hints at the shadow between her breasts.

As my body reacts in a primal way to the vision of this sensual goddess, I'm struck by irritation due to the intensity of my desire.

When I refocus on her face, though, she does something unexpected.

No smiles, batting eyelashes, or greetings, as would be normal in this situation. Instead, she picks up a remote control, and a sexy song starts playing.

Did she mistake me for a customer? She's probably new, or she would know who I am.

I should clear up the misunderstanding, get up, and leave, because if I stay here, I know what will happen: I'll take her to bed, and that goes against everything I believe in.

I should , but it's not what I do. Going against the strict way I lead my life, I lean back on the couch again, cross my arms, and wait.

She closes the curtain, and when she turns to me, she doesn't meet my gaze. Her hands go to the robe's sash, and I hold my breath, eager, as if I've never seen a woman in lingerie before.

I study her more carefully now. Long, full, wavy, brown hair, narrow shoulders, and...

Fuck!

She lets the robe drop to the floor, and the nickname I used earlier to describe her couldn't be more perfect. The woman is an absolute goddess.

I've had a significant number of female companions in my bed, but I don't recall ever seeing such perfection. Maybe not by today's standards, but the girl is a woman in every sense of the word. Large breasts are a sensual contrast to her slim waist and wide hips; her torso is an hourglass, ending in thick thighs.

Contrary to the slow music, I feel accelerated, feverish.

She starts moving, and it's not what I want. I want to get her out of here. I'm not the type to beat around the bush when I want something, and even though I know it's wrong, I'll have her.

However, there's still some rationality left in me, so I force myself to maintain my self-control and let her continue to mistake me for a customer.

She sways her hips, her waist moving sinuously, hypnotizing me.

Her hands rise to her hair, and her eyes are closed as if she's lost in the music. I could watch her for hours without getting bored. The unnamed woman stirs my libido like no other has managed to do before.

She turns around, her backside provocatively lifted. The little bow at the base of her spine, where the thong she's wearing ends, tempts me to pull it. My cock tenses against the zipper of my jeans, making the pressure painful.

Much sooner than I'd like, the music ends, and she finally opens her eyes and pretends to smile.

Yes, pretends . I know enough about the human soul to recognize that she's intimidated by my presence, which isn't an uncommon reaction, both from men and women.

Suddenly, the curtain opens, and Ares appears, looking from her to me. I know he quickly understands the employee's mistake. I've never requested a private dance, although I've watched some performances from the club's audience.

He stares at me, and I shake my head. He beckons me, and even though I'm irritated, I go to meet him, but before leaving the room, I warn the dancer, "Don't leave this room."

She looks at me, astonished, and swallows hard but remains immobile.

I drag my brother out of the room.

"She's going to perform for Rey," he says when I close the curtain behind us.

"No."

"What do you mean, no? That's why I hired her."

"I want exclusivity with her."

He looks at me as if I've gone insane. "Did you do drugs earlier?"

"Idiot."

"No, I'm serious. I've owned this nightclub for two years, and you've always hated coming here, and now you want exclusivity with the only unavailable dancer?"

"I'll pay for the rest of the night, but she's not leaving this room until I say so."

"Jesus, now I'm sure you've gone mad! You can't possibly be competing for a dancer with a guy we're negotiating with."

I let him vent because we both know that in the end, I'll get what I want, as always. "Pay another girl triple, but this one will be at my disposal tonight."

He stares at me in silence for a while before saying, "I hope you know what you're doing. Madison is newly hired, and I don't want to face a harassment lawsuit."

I ignore the second part of what he says. "Madison what? What's her last name?"

"Foster."

"Don't come back in here," I warn, pulling back the curtain and entering the room again.