Detest

by E. C. Land

  “Aw, Cora. Okay, spill. What’s bothering you so much?”

  “I learned about Brittney the other night, so . . . that’s a start. What do you know about her?” I trust Poppy, but I want to know all the information she has.

  “Ugh, she’s the troll Rémy married in Las Vegas when he was drunk off his butt. How he even managed to be attracted to her is beyond me. She’s whiny, needy, and shows up all the time to cause trouble. Yuck.” Poppy scrunches up her nose in disgust.

  Okay, so his story is lining up so far. “Okay, that’s what he told me. He told me he married her, and an Elvis impersonator was the officiant. He never verified the marriage license was even legitimate, so he has Malcolm looking into things. Now she’s saying she’s pregnant. She tried to show him a sonogram photo that didn’t have any of her personal information on it, and it looks bad. It seems like she’s trying to be a gold digger, but regardless, it looks bad. What if she is pregnant? What if it is his child? What if . . . by some odd circumstance, this is his baby? What if he’s actually married?”

  “Well, that’s a loaded cannon of crap flying right at you. Isn’t it?” This is exactly why I love Poppy. She finds a way to make every situation a little more lighthearted.

  “It really is,” I agree with her, take a sip of water, and set my glass back down.

  Our server arrives with our appetizers and sets them down on the table. We only start speaking again when he’s out of earshot.

  “Okay, so let me ask you something. If he’s really married, are you going to stay with him? He’s told you this was a drunken mistake, so does it truly matter? You’re obviously into the guy, so are you gonna stick this out with him?”

  Her question hits me right in the heart. I don’t want to walk away from Rémy. Our connection is too strong, and I’ve already begun to fall hard for him. Sucking in a breath, I tell her how I feel. “I’d stick it out.”

  “Okay, I figured as much. You two are smitten kittens for each other. Anyways, so regardless, you’ll stand by his side if he has to get a divorce. And that’s if the marriage was even legal in the first place. So, let’s talk about the pregnancy part. She might not be pregnant. She could be faking this to get some cash, and as much as I hate to say it, people don’t surprise me anymore. So, if she’s pregnant, what will you do? Are you going to walk away from him? Is the baby a deal breaker for you?”

  I didn’t know the answer until Poppy just asked me. Immediately, the word “no” came right into my mind. It’s not the child’s fault for the actions of their parents. “No, it’s not, if she’s pregnant.”

  “Okay, so you know in your heart what you want to do. My advice would be to follow your heart. I know love and stuff can be scary, but you know what you’re going to do. Be gentle with yourself, Cora. This is a situation I’m sure neither of you ever imagined you’d be in.”

  This right here is what true friendship is. It’s supporting me no matter what and honoring the decision I’ve made. Poppy said exactly what I needed to hear, and I know we’ll be friends for a long time to come

  Chapter Sixteen

  Rémy

  The past several days, I’ve done nothing but spend time with Cora every moment I could. During the day, while she’s rehearsing routines, I’m in my office at Diamond Dancers or at our reserved table. At night when she’s either preparing to go or on stage, I’m in the audience.

  Félix finds it hilarious, but he gets it. I want to be with Cora as much as possible. It might seem like I’ve been distracted, but I’m not. I keep up with what’s going on here at the club too.

  The day Cora and I worked everything out, I told her about what happened after she left the club and that I needed to get down there. I informed her she’d have to come with me. She didn’t have a choice—it was mandatory.

  All the dancers were sitting around, waiting for the meeting to start, when Cora and I walked in. I didn’t miss the glares some of them tossed in my woman’s direction. I ignored them and let Cora sit by Poppy. The two of them were having a whispered conversation when I spoke to the group as a whole. Julian came to stand on one side of me, my brothers on the other. The doctor we keep on payroll stood off to the side, along with a nurse to assist him.

  I informed the dancers what they’d be doing. No one complained, and I’m glad they didn’t give me a headache.

  Once we finished with them, the girls were dismissed to go about their day. Those who were set to come back for the night shift knew who they were.

  Once everyone is gone, Cora and Poppy decided to bring an idea they’d come up with to my attention. It was clear it was something they truly wanted to do: a duo dance routine.

  I let them know that if they could show me a routine that’d work, then I’d approve it for them. Since then, they’ve not only been rehearsing their own routines, but they’ve also been practicing one together. From what I’ve seen of it, it’ll be a great performance. Hell, with the two of them on stage together, I’ll have people lined up at the door to see the show.

  Switching thoughts, I can’t help remembering this morning. I woke up with Cora in my arms. We stayed at my place last night, and I’ll admit it’s nice having her in my bed. I spent several hours this morning worshiping her body before we got ready for the day.

  I stopped by the café and bought us breakfast and coffee. She wanted a vanilla something or other and insisted we get Poppy a caramel of the same thing. I simply ordered a black coffee with two sugars.

  Now sitting at my table, I’m going over a few emails, when my phone rings on the table next to my laptop. Picking up my cell, I notice Malcolm’s name and wonder if he’s got news for me.

  Answering, I put the device to my ear. “Tell me you’ve got news for me.”

  Brittney hasn’t stopped trying to cause drama. Her car has been spotted outside the club several times, and she even tried approaching the building—twice. My bouncers turned her away each time. Then, of course, there were her attempts to go to Félix’s house. Désirée ended up getting the guards to escort her crazy ass off the property. After that, Félix demanded she be picked up if she showed her face at his house again. He’s sick of the bullshit just as much as I am.

  “Oh, I have loads of information for you. You’re at Diamond Dancers, right?” Something in Malcolm’s tone alerts me that whatever he’s about to say, it’s not gonna be good.

  “Yeah, I’m at the club. Why?” I close my laptop and scan the room, wondering if I need to ask the dancers to leave for the time being.

  “I’ll tell you when I get there. I’ll meet you in the main room. Or would you prefer the VIP section?”

  The VIP section is the entire second floor that overlooks the main floor on my side of the club. It’s only used by those who can afford to pay the premium. Having access to this area isn’t only available to those viewing the shows from all three sections on the first floor, clientele is also able to enjoy their choice of girls from the brothel.

  Malcolm mentioning this has me picturing taking Cora up there.

  “We’ll talk in the main room or my office,” I grumble, blocking images of Cora bent over one of the couches upstairs in the VIP section. I don’t need my cock getting hard right now.

  “Be there in five,” Malcolm informs me and disconnects the call.

  Putting my phone in my pocket, I walk over toward the stage. “Ladies, sorry to interrupt. If you would like to take a break, go on and head out. I’ll see you all back an hour before we open.”

  Most of the dancers dart to the door, letting it slam closed behind them. Cora comes up and wraps an arm around my waist. “Everything okay?” she asks, tilting her head to look up at me.

  “Yeah, baby,” I say, leaning down and pressing my lips to hers for a brief, but much-needed kiss.

  Cora snuggles into me, and the doors open to Félix and Tristan stepping inside with Malcolm on their heels.

  Behind him, two of our men are dragging Brittney between them.

  “Um, d
o you need me to leave?” Cora whispers, having felt the tension starting to fill the room.

  Glancing down at her, I shake my head. “No, you’re my woman and deserve to know what’s going on.”

  Cora holds my gaze for a moment before nodding. “Okay. Well, then, who is that, and why is her mouth taped shut?”

  “That would be Brittney, the woman I told you about,” I answer and pull her tighter against my side. Switching my focus back to my brothers, I quirk a brow at the smirk on their faces. “What?”

  “Nothing. Malcolm called and said he was on his way here with Brittney. I wasn’t about to miss the show. Not when she’s been causing so much drama and shit.” Félix shrugs, grinning as he darts his gaze between Cora and me.

  “I was just on my way to handle some business when he pulled in.” Tristan snickers, taking a seat on one of the stools.

  “Whatever,” I grunt and focus on Malcolm. “What’s going on?” I nod to where the other guys are holding a struggling Brittney.

  “You asked me the other day to look into the marriage and all that fun stuff. Well, after the boys reported Brittney going into that smack house, I not only started looking into the marriage, but I looked further into Little Miss Brittney over here.”

  “And?” I urge him to get to the point.

  “Seems Brittney used to be one of the girls who worked in one of Delano’s brothels,” Malcolm states. “She knew who you were in Vegas when she saw you. Paid someone to slip a roofie into your drink and got one of her johns to fake the marriage. The whole ordeal is a setup. A fucking shitshow, bro.”

  My vision narrows on the bitch in question, and I’m beyond livid right now. If I were a man who killed women, she’d be dead as fuck right now.

  “You bitch,” Cora snaps, and before I can stop her, she’s across the room slapping Brittney. “What’s with women like you thinking it’s okay to con her way somewhere she’s not wanted? Or to drug a man? What the fuck?”

  Oh, shit.

  Cora is pissed.

  “Cora,” I call, but she doesn’t listen to me. Instead, she rips the tape off Brittney’s mouth, making her scream in pain.

  “Answer me,” she demands, slapping her across the cheek again.

  “You bitch. I’m going to get you for that and for fuckin’ my man,” Brittney snarls, spitting at her feet.

  “Your man. I don’t think so. You’re nothing but a skanky-ass whore looking for someone to put your ass up,” Cora snaps, getting in Brittney’s face.

  Brittney rips away from the men holding her back and launches herself at Cora. Only she ends up flat on her back with Cora straddling Brittney’s waist, pummeling her.

  I give Cora a moment to have her fun. But I can’t let her hurt herself. She’ll be pissed if she hurts her hands.

  “Rémy, you gonna stop that?” Félix nods, but I grin as I move toward Cora. Bending, I scoop her up, wrapping an arm around her waist and holding her against my front. “Easy, baby,” I murmur into her ear, calming her down. Looking at my brothers, I jerk my chin to a sobbing Brittney. “Can you handle this while I make sure Cora hasn’t injured her hands?”

  “You got it.” Tristan chuckles. “I’ll make sure she’s handled.” I know what that means. He’ll take Brittney somewhere and call Sabine. The woman has no problem pulling a trigger when she needs to.

  Nodding, I reposition Cora and swing her into my arms, carrying her bridal style up to the second floor. It’s time she saw the VIP room.

  Plus, I want to show her how hot she’s made me, coming to my defense the way she did just then.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Corentina

  Rémy takes me up the stairs bridal style and walks directly into the VIP room. I’ve been here a couple of times to do private shows for some of the higher clientele Diamond Dancers has. But this is the first time I’ve been up here alone with Rémy.

  Diamond Dancers opens in a couple of hours, and we all came in early because of the meeting he called, which was incredibly intense. Then the entire thing with Brittney pissed me off, and well, I went a bit crazy. I lost my fucking mind a bit, if I’m being honest.

  She deserved it. Honestly, she deserves much more than what I did to fuck up her face. I’d have kept going if I could’ve, but Rémy pulled me back, essentially saving her from my wrath. God, she infuriates the hell out of me. I hate women like her. Not many people know this, but I’m so angry at her because I’ve seen women like her doing this to men in Germany all the time. It practically became something that’s normalized, and it’s enraging. There’s no excuse for trapping people with a lie.

  Rémy lowers me down, and my feet hit the floor. He walks with me to the en suite in the VIP room, and my hands are red and inflamed. I’m not shocked, not with how hard the impact had been when my fists collided with Brittney’s pathetic face.

  I scan my hands delicately, and luckily nothing’s broken, and I’m not bleeding. Thank goodness, I can put some primer on my hands, use some concealer, and I’ll be good to go later tonight.

  Rémy’s phone rings and he picks it up, not even bothering to look and see who it is. “Yeah.”

  I obviously can’t hear anyone on the other line, but his brows furrow and he nods. “Okay, let me see if Cora can take over Poppy’s set.”

  Immediately, I nod, confirming I can. It’ll be two long sets, but I’ll make it work. Plus, the money’s good, so I won’t turn it down. Being in show business, you never know when the curtain will close for your last call. Then again, those are Ursula’s words coming straight into my mind.

  “She can do it, so we’re good,” Rémy tells whoever’s on the other line with him.

  Rémy ends the call and sets the phone on the coffee table. “Is Poppy okay?” I question him.

  “Yeah, she started getting a stomach bug, so Madelaine told her to leave and rest up,” Rémy fills in the details.

  “Okay,” I murmur, hoping my friend feels better soon. I’ll make sure to send her a text later today and then stop in and check on her in the morning. I bet some bland oatmeal and some hot tea will help her feel better. But I’m sure if I bring over some anti-nausea meds, she’ll feel even better.

  “What’s the matter? You seem stressed.” I’m falling deeper in love with this man every time I see him, but like all the rest of his gender, they tend not to realize the obvious.

  “I am stressed. Aren’t you?” I ask, a bit baffled.

  “No, I’m relieved. Everything is good now. We know she’s nothing more than a stupid woman who thought she could get one over on the DeLancy family. I have no doubt she would’ve done this to any of my brothers. I was simply the easy target.” Everything Rémy is saying is true, but I don’t feel better. Maybe it’s because I’ve had so many pent-up emotions over this situation with Brittney . . . but I don’t know how to release this anger I have built up inside me. It doesn’t feel like it’s over. Yeah, she’s been caught, she’s been found out, she’s been fucking made . . . but is it over? Is it really?

  A few moments of silence pass between us, and I walk toward the window that looks down into the main area. I take in a couple deep breaths, trying to calm myself down. My heartbeat is still beating so fast I hear it pulsing in my head.

  “Cora, what’s the matter?” Rémy asks as he comes up from behind me, wrapping his arms around my body, placing his lips at the back of my neck.

  “I’m worried this isn’t over with. I don’t know what you’re going to do, or even what your family does . . . but it seems like you guys have some sort of criminal ties.”

  Rémy pulls his lips away from my skin and turns me around to face him. He stares deep into my eyes as if he’s assessing me. “Brittney is done for, and that’s a fact. Now, regarding the last bit of your conversation—does it bother you if we do?”

  It should, but it doesn’t. “No. Not in the slightest.”

  A smirk pulls at the edge of Rémy’s lips, and he brings his mouth closer to mine. “Good, now spread your leg
s for me. I’ve been dying to be deep inside you since I saw you going ape-shit on Brittney.”

  I lick my bottom lip and spread my legs apart. I’m wearing a flowy dress today, and he hikes the skirt up over my hips. Rémy hooks a thumb under my panties and pulls—hard. The fabric rips, and I swear this man only gets hotter every time I’m with him.

  He snickers and collides his lips with my own. Our kiss is hungry and fast-paced. It’s sloppy, and that’s okay. I don’t need Rémy to make love to me right now. All I need is for him to fuck me like I’m his own personal whore. He slides his hands up under my thighs and presses me against the window.

  I gasp, terrified people can see us.

  He chuckles and breaks our kiss. With the most intense look in his eyes, I practically melt to the floor as he starts speaking, “They can see us, but I don’t give a fuck. You’re mine, Cora. Everyone here knows it, so let them watch me fucking you because they’ll know it’s better to stay on your good side than get on your bad one.”

  I paw at Rémy’s belt and unfasten it, and together we work to get his raging-hard cock free. Pre-cum is oozing at the head of his dick, and he slides his hand back under my thigh, then drives his cock deep inside me. I gnaw on my bottom lip as he goes further inside me, and I dig my nails into his shoulders.

  “I love the way your expressions change when I shove my fat cock in you,” he tells me, bringing his lips down to the nape of my neck. He sucks my skin between his mouth, and if he isn’t too careful, he’s going to give me a hickey.

  “Rémy, be careful. I have two sets tonight,” I urge him, but the man doesn’t care. He keeps going, and he stops when he’s satisfied.

  “I don’t care. You can cover that shit up. Get creative, but don’t ever tell me to stop claiming what’s mine.” My eyes lock with his once again, and he intensifies the thrusts. I stop digging my nails into his flesh and wrap my arms around his neck, needing to give myself some sort of support as I lean back.