Page 125 of Poison and Wine
Today was the beginning of the month, which meant meetings with my brothers. After sitting down at the conference table in the office, I nodded at them.
“How’s it looking, boys?”
Kellan grinned while shoving a red folder at me. “Grand as always.”
As I eyed the folder’s documents, I replied, “I’m glad to hear it.”
“It wouldn’t kill you to say thanks, would it?” he teasingly questioned.
While I rolled my eyes at him, Dare countered, “Get fucked, boyo. You’re not even old enough to have a drink here. It’s Quinn and I that keep this place afloat.”
With a scowl, Kellan countered, “I will be of age in three months.”
After ruffling Kellan’s hair, Quinn countered, “Then keep your trap shut until then.”
I pointed at Quinn. “Speaking of running this place. I’ve got an audition for you.”
A growl reverberated through his chest. “I’m not a fucking plaything you can trot out when it serves your purpose.”
I snorted. “As if anyone could ever think of you like that.”
“I’m serious, Callum.”
“I know. But I need your services.”
Since we were one of the finest gentlemen's clubs in Boston, we had to wade through a shit-ton of dancers. As demeaning as it sounds, the first test was appearance. Did the woman look like she could charm millionaires and billionaires? If she passed that test, was she a phenomenal dancer who could work the pole?
Considering the amount of colleges in Boston, we had a lot of dancers pass the first and second tests. High-brow coeds who’d spent their childhoods in dance classes usually passed the first two rounds. But the last one was make or break: they had to give Quinn a lapdance.
We hadn’t chosen Quinn because he was allegedly Quasimodo. He was quite the opposite. Like all of us Kavanaugh men, he was a good-looking fucker even with his scars. When he didn’t walk around like the Grim Reaper daring anyone to touch him, women lined up for a piece of him. He’d become our ringer because of his scary-as-hell demeanor. If a dancer could survive riding Quinn’s lap without dying of fright, then she was hired.
At Quinn’s continued hesitation, Dare clapped him on the back. “You’re the only man I know who begrudges a lap dance from a fine as hell woman.”
“Fuck you,” he muttered.
“Quinn’s not the only one who would.”
Dare’s brows rose questioningly. “Who else?”
I eased back in my chair with a smile. “Me.”
Since I’d returned to the states as a married man, I hadn’t received a single lap dance from the girls. Despite my wedding band, I’d still been offered private dances. Many were hoping I’d audition them for a role as my mistress.
But after having a taste of Caterina, no other woman did it for me. I no longer desired random tits in my face or strange pussy grinding against me.
When my phone buzzed, I grimaced at it. “Speak of the devil?” Dare questioned with a grin.
“Yeah, she had a doctor’s appointment earlier.”
Quinn scowled at me. “Shouldn’t you ask the wee lass how it went?”
“She already let me know everything was fine.” When he still gave me a shitty look, I sighed. “Look, she’s asking to come see me at the office. There’s no way in hell I can tell her where I’m at.”
Dare’s brows popped. “Sister Sassy doesn’t know we own this club?”
Rolling my eyes at him, I replied, “Caterina would lose her mind if she knew about this place. In her book, I already have enough vices on my plate. There would be nothing of my dark soul left to salvage if she found out.”
While Dare chuckled, Quinn had the audacity to tsk at me. “You’re just digging your grave deeper for when she does find out.”