Praise (Salacious Players Club #1)(63)

“What are you thinking?” I whisper again as my eyes get heavy and he pulls me closer.

I nuzzle into the comfort of his broad chest and heavy arms as he presses his lips against my ear. Maybe I’m already dreaming because I can’t believe the answer that comes out of his mouth.

“I was thinking that I don’t deserve you.”





RULE #27: THERE’S ALWAYS TIME FOR A QUICKIE.





Emerson





“Do I have to remind you to behave today?”

Charlotte bites her lip in the passenger seat as I pull up to the front of the club. We don’t open for another couple of hours, but we’re holding our first club event tonight and I need to check a few more details before it starts.

It’s been a mess at work this week. Too much actual work means I can’t spend my days fucking my secretary over my desk like I want to. In fact, we’ve both been so swamped, we hardly get to even touch each other until after five, when I can usually manage a quick fuck upstairs while the phone rings off the hook in the office.

The other part of my week, affected by the workload, is the plan I had for Charlotte. There are so many things I want to teach her, things she’s eager to learn as my sub. And I don’t know who fucked with this girl’s head so much to make her believe she’s never good enough, but there are some techniques I had in mind to change that.

When we step into the club, it’s chaos. I hear Maggie yelling something in the back of the room, Drake is looking stressed as he barks orders at his men to fix one of the cages on the side of the stage. And when Garrett gets one look at me, he actually smiles.

Which is what Garrett does under stress, he makes a joke out of everything. It’s infuriating.

“Contrary to how it looks now, I can assure you, everything is under control,” he says with brimming confidence.

“Bullshit,” I reply.

“Yeah, it’s a mess. That cage on stage right still rattles, two of the girls called out, and the city is threatening to revoke our liquor license, so Maggie is having a mental breakdown.”

“What can I do to help?” Charlotte asks before I can say a word.

“Well…what are you doing tonight at seven?” Garrett asks with a waggle in his brow.

I grit my teeth and push her behind me. “No.”

He replies with a laugh. “Relax. It was a joke. But I mean…let me know if you change your mind. The members would bid a pretty penny for you, sweetheart.”

He tugs at one of her brown curls, and I’ve never wanted to hurt my best friend more than I want to in this moment. Knowing Garrett, he’s not flirting. This is just what he does. He sees people for what they’re worth, and it’s what makes him good at his job.

But it’s never bothered me so much, the way he talks to Charlotte. In his defense, he still sees her as only my secretary.

Charlotte’s hearty laugh tears my gaze away from Garrett. “You’re crazy. You don’t want me in your auction. It would be crickets…”

My irritation quickly morphs from Garrett to her as I furrow my brow in her direction. I know she means it as a joke, and she can laugh all she wants with him about it, but I know what lurks behind that humor, and it makes me grind my molars just thinking about it.

“That’s enough,” I bark, silencing both of their laughs. I march straight into the club, tearing off my jacket, ready to fix all this shit that seems to be falling apart. “Let’s get to work,” I call back to them.

We put out one fire at a time, and honestly, this is my favorite part of my job. It takes me back to my early days, running events, coordinating vendors and publicists and schedules, before I spent my life sitting behind a desk, waiting for something fun to come along.

Every few minutes, I catch Charlotte running around, and I mostly give her over to Maggie for the day. I’m strangely aggravated with her for some reason. Okay, not with her, but that one comment this morning has been grating on my nerves all day.

How the fuck can such a brilliant, beautiful girl think so badly of herself?

That piece of shit father of hers never wanted to treat her right, so now she can’t seem to wrap her head around the idea that she’s worthy of anything. I wish I could face that fucker right now. I’d like to knock his ass out for what he did to Charlotte and Sophie.

“What do you want to do about tonight’s lineup?” Garrett asks, while I’m standing in the office, going over the contracts.

“How many do we have?” I ask.

“Seven.”

Damn. It’s our first auction, the most highly anticipated event at the club, according to the PR firm. They’ve been raving about this since the club opening was announced, which is great, but also has that fucking criminal investigator breathing down our necks. The girls are auctioning off their time, not sex. At least not publicly. What they do during their date is up to them.

Seven feels a bit dismal for our first auction.

“Talk to the girls we have. Maybe they have some friends. Up their cut to sixty percent, and let’s aim for at least a dozen,” I say, hoping it’s enough.

“You know…” Garrett replies, leaning against the doorframe. The hairs on my neck stand up as if I already know the bad fucking idea he’s about to vocalize. “I meant what I said about Charlotte.”