Stay A Little Longer (Kadia Club Nights Book 2)

by Nicole York

Pauline answered on the third ring with a thick voice and a yawn. “Cam? Are you okay? Are you home?”

  “I’m in the back of a cab on my way home now.”

  “What time is it?” Pauline mumbled.

  “Twenty to five.”

  “Holy shit. Seriously? Wait, hold up. Does this mean you guys—”

  “Banged? Yep. Sure did. Then he kicked me out of the club like I was a bag of recycling. No joke. He carried me outside, loaded me into the back of a taxi, and told me not to come back because he’s no good for me and Kadia is bad news for girls like me.”

  Pauline didn’t say anything.

  Cameron nearly bit her tongue in frustration. “Aren’t you going to say something?”

  “Besides ‘I told you so’?”

  Cameron groaned and slapped her hand to her face. “I can’t believe I fell for his bullshit! And those eyes? Damn him and those fucking eyes. I gave him a good fucking time and he—”

  “Can you stop screaming in my ear? I just woke up.”

  Cameron swallowed her anger and tried to manage her voice. “He manhandled me.”

  Pauline sighed. “Well, I did warn you about the guys who work at Kadia. You went for it anyway. I’m not excusing how he acted but maybe that’s just what you were signing up for? I mean, what did you expect to have happen?”

  Cameron tried to wrap her mind around the question. What had she expected? And why was she so sour that she hadn’t gotten it?

  Oh yes. Because she got everything she wanted, and Cole said no a little too easily for her liking.

  “I guess I wanted to keep him on the hook a little longer,” Cameron admitted.

  The cab turned a corner and headed toward the interstate to take her back to Irvington. She was still a good thirty minutes from home and longed to take her makeup off and climb into her silk sheets.

  “I get it, babe,” Pauline said empathetically. “I think maybe it’s good that it happened this way. Don’t go back to Kadia. Your life is on track. You don’t need to share your energy with someone like Cole from a place like that, do you? Especially not with everything you have in the works right now. The last thing you need is a distraction. Stay focused.”

  Logically, Cameron knew this was sound advice. But her heart and her body didn’t want to walk away from the rough bodyguard who fucked her senseless. She could still feel him inside her and part of her knew that their wild fuck session had been nothing but a prelude to what he was truly capable of.

  She wanted more. Needed more. Needed it like she needed air to breathe and the ground to walk on.

  “You’re not going to listen to me, are you?” Pauline asked.

  “Probably not.”

  “Why?” Pauline groaned.

  “Because,” Cameron said simply, “he doesn’t get to call the shots and pretend this was nothing but a hit it and quit it situation. I could feel it, Pauline. There was something there. Something electric and real. It was the kind of feeling you don’t just walk away from. I think he’s just scared.”

  “Scared?” Pauline sounded like she was about to laugh. “Okay, Cam, now you’re being ridiculous. What would that guy have to be scared of? He looks like he could fight a grizzly bear with his own hands and win.”

  “He didn’t want to admit it was more than sex.”

  “You sound crazy.”

  “I don’t care how it sounds. You weren’t there.”

  Pauline grumbled and Cameron could hear her rolling over in bed. Her sheets rustled and she let out a long, tired sigh. “How about we talk about this more tomorrow? You can sleep on it and tell me if you still feel like acting like a sociopath in the morning. Sound good?”

  “Fine, but I’m not changing my mind.”

  “Okay. Goodnight, Cameron.”

  “Goodnight, Pauline.”

  Cameron woke in her sunny bedroom with her eyelashes practically glued shut. Even though she had the best intentions last night of taking her makeup off, she never got around to it. After getting home at quarter after five, she’d made her quiet ascension up to her bedroom, brushed her teeth, stripped out of her dress, and climbed into bed still smelling like sex.

  Now she regretted that decision.

  She groaned and forced her eyes open. They itched furiously. Irritated with her own laziness, she got out of bed and padded to her bathroom, where she splashed water on her face, grabbed cotton swabs, and doused them in makeup remover. She wiped all the mascara, liner, eye shadow, highlight, and brow filler away and stared at her haggard reflection.

  The events of the previous night played on a loop in her head, and every time she closed her eyes, all she could see was Cole’s face. She could see his clenched jaw and the strain of self-control in his eyes when he’d pulled her head back when he was deep inside her. She could feel him between her thighs. Could taste his lips on her tongue.

  “Stop it,” she said to herself. She had to stop fantasizing about him. Tonight, she was going to go back and get him. Damn him for thinking he could boss her around and damn him for thinking it would be as easy as kicking her out one time.

  She was Cameron White.

  She smiled at her half-wiped-away makeup face. “They won’t kick you out again. Not if you remind them who you are and how many connections you have.”

  Was she entertaining the thought of threatening known criminals in their own club all over some good dick and a pretty pair of blue eyes?

  Yes. Yes, she was.

  Did it scare her?

  Maybe a little. But the flutter in her belly was more than she’d felt in a decade and she kind of liked it. She liked the unknown and the risk and the high reward. It was worth playing with fire for.

  Cameron had a hot shower and scrubbed away the grit from the previous night. She exfoliated and moisturized, applied a leave-in hair mask, and got dressed in one of her favorite floor-length nightgowns and matching robes to head downstairs for breakfast.

  And coffee.

  God, did she ever need a cup of coffee.

  Cameron found her mother and father in the family sitting room. As per every weekend morning, her father sat on his green velvet chair. His pipe was pursed between his lips and the paper was open on his lap. Why he bothered to read the paper was beyond her. Everything could be found online these days but he insisted on flipping through pages upon pages of advertisements and irrelevant information.

  Boomers, she thought with an affectionate smile. She took her spot on the opposite corner of the sofa from her mother, who was currently sipping English breakfast tea out of a floral-print china teacup precariously balanced on a matching saucer.

  “Good morning, sweetheart,” Margaret said.

  Wayne looked up from his paper. “Good morning, darling. You came home late last night.”

  A silver tray sat on the coffee table between them all. It was spilling over with pastries: croissants filled with strawberries and custard, danishes dusted in icing sugar, scones drizzled with glaze and topped with zested lemon.

  Cameron reached for a lemon scone and put it on a small plate beside the tray. She fetched a butter cube from a little dish with ice in it, as well as a butter knife, and leaned back in her corner of the sofa to eat. Seconds later, one of the house staff appeared at her right elbow with a cup of coffee just how she liked it.

  “Thank you,” Cameron said, taking the cup. She took a sip and savored it as it moved down her throat and into her belly. “I was out with Pauline last night. We went dancing.”

  “Where’d you go?” Margaret asked.

  “You know, I didn’t actually get the name of the club. It was a small place. Pauline said she always used to go there because they have such a good DJ. She was right. We danced into the morning.”

  Her parents bought the line.

  As a twenty-eight-year-old woman, Cameron hated that she couldn’t be honest with them and she had to lie about where she was like she was seventeen. Living in the estate sometimes made her feel like she was still that teena
ge girl. But they wouldn’t want to hear the truth, and she didn’t want to share it, so this was the compromise.

  “I’m glad you had fun,” Wayne said, his eyes sliding back down to his paper. “Just be careful, darling. Now that you’re stepping into the limelight and taking up a position under the philanthropist umbrella, it’s only a matter of time before people start taking an interest in what you’re doing with your free time as well as professional time. You’ll have a bigger online following than you already do on all your social accounts in no time.”

  Cameron paused with her cup of coffee halfway to her lips.

  She hadn’t thought about any of that.

  What were the chances that someone saw her at Kadia last night? Would anyone care? Would they think it was story worthy?

  Was that enough to stop her from going back?

  She sipped her coffee to hide her smile.

  Probably not.

  16

  Cole

  Saturday morning and afternoon chugged along at a snail’s pace for Cole. He spent the first half of his day alone in his still unpacked apartment working out, eating, and waiting for his shift to start at Kadia. When the clock closed in on six o’clock, he grabbed his bag with his uniform in it and headed out the door.

  He arrived at the club at six thirty and entered through the side entrance. Vance was there, as per usual, puffing on a cigarette. He flicked it on the asphalt, put it out under his boot, and followed Cole inside, bringing the smell of smoke in with him.

  “So the White woman,” Vance said. Cole didn’t have to look over his shoulder to know the other man was smiling. He could hear it in Vance’s voice.

  Cole strode down the hallway toward the bar. “What about her?”

  “How was she?”

  “I’m not talking about this with you.”

  “That bad, huh?”

  Cole stopped.

  Vance walked right into his back, smacking his nose into the back of Cole’s head. He stumbled back, clutching his aching nose and cursing. “You did that on purpose.”

  “Yes, I did,” Cole said simply.

  Dean appeared behind the bar. He wore a black zip-up Kadia sweatshirt and jeans, and he carried a box of liquor under one arm which he began stocking on the back shelves. “Don’t be mean, Cole. Vance is just jealous because he’s never landed pussy like that in his fucking life.”

  Cole groaned. There was no going back from here.

  Vance scowled and took up residence on one of the barstools. “How would you know what kind of pussy I pull?”

  Dean arched an eyebrow. “Any close to the likes of Cameron White?”

  “Well,” Vance said, “no, but—”

  “I rest my case,” Dean finished.

  Cole felt a little jab of satisfaction and nodded his thanks to Dean.

  “I told her not to come back here,” Cole said.

  “What?” both men asked in unison.

  Dean poured three beers and slid a drink each to Vance and Cole. They both drank.

  Vance wiped foam from his upper lip. “Why’d you cut her loose so quickly? Was she actually a letdown? I can see how a woman like that could be—I don’t know—high maintenance?”

  “That’s not it,” Cole said.

  “What is it then?” Dean asked, his head cocked to the side with curiosity.

  A new voice joined the party. A deep, commanding voice. “Because he knows she’s not the sort to hang around Kadia,” Marcus said as he reached the bar. He smirked at Cole and leaned up against the bar. “Isn’t that right?”

  Cole shrugged. “Something like that. She’s too good for a place like this. She’d just get herself in trouble. It’s better she duck out now than get in too deep like the rest of us, you know?”

  “Some of us like being in deep.” Marcus winked.

  “Amen,” Vance agreed.

  Dean poured a fourth beer for Marcus and a fifth when Zak arrived, a cheeky grin on his lips as he shot looks at Cole.

  “She was fine, kid, I’ll give you that,” Zak said.

  “Finest woman in the room last night to be sure,” Vance added.

  Last to arrive to the party was Keesha, who clicked her tongue at Vance’s last sentiment as she moved behind the bar. She was wearing a white T-shirt and blue jeans that fit her perfectly, and as she walked toward them, she tied her wild red hair up in a loose bun. “Be careful, Vance. Saying things like that around a bunch of ladies who make their living off their bodies and faces, you might offend someone.”

  Vance gave Keesha an apologetic look. “I’m just saying.”

  “Well don’t,” Keesha said. She turned to Cole. “Besides, I think Cole made the smart move.”

  Everyone shared a look.

  “You do?” Cole asked.

  Keesha nodded earnestly. “Absolutely. Women like Cameron aren’t to be toyed with, Cole. She will have plenty of connections, potentially dangerous ones. That’s not a lot you want to throw your hat in with, is it?”

  “No,” Cole said plainly.

  “No,” Keesha agreed. “She might have a great ass and tits even I wouldn’t mind playing with, but let’s all be realistic. She has no place here. Next time, pick a mark that doesn’t have billionaire-status parents, yeah?”

  Marcus stroked his jaw. “We have dangerous connections, baby. Who you know isn’t always something that can be used against others.”

  “That’s not the point,” Keesha said. “All I’m saying is be careful, Cole. That’s it.”

  Cole nodded at her. “Thank you. But I have it under control.”

  “It sure as shit didn’t look like it was under control when you carried her out of here last night kicking and screaming.” Zak snorted.

  Cole brooded. Damn Russian was always getting up in his business.

  Zak saw the flash of anger in Cole’s eyes and laughed in earnest. “Kid, you take shit too seriously. All I’m saying is if you want to control a woman, you shouldn’t have to raise a finger, especially after giving it to her right. She should be putty in your hands. If you say get out, she gets the fuck out. If you say suck my dick, she opens her mouth and drops to her knees.” Zak got a sly look in his eyes as he glanced around at the others. “Maybe it’s safe to assume you didn’t give it to her right?”

  “Get fucked,” Cole growled while the others laughed at his expense.

  Bastards.

  “He’s not wrong,” Marcus said. “A well-fucked woman is an obedient woman.”

  “Excuse me?” Keesha asked.

  “Oh shit.” Vance snickered into his hand.

  Dean leaned back and watched the entire exchange like he had front-row seats to the best action-drama-movie scene of all time.

  “Baby,” Marcus said, “you know what I mean.”

  “A well-fucked woman is an obedient woman because she’s so used to guys pumping ten times and finishing,” Keesha said darkly. “But an obedient woman is still a woman nonetheless, and there are always thoughts in her head that the likes of you could never imagine.”

  “Remind me never to piss Keesha off,” Vance muttered.

  “Obedient,” Keesha spat. “Cameron would be wise to avoid this place like the plague.”

  All this because he had a one-time hookup with a rich man’s daughter? Cole hadn’t realized last night’s endeavors would lead to such fuckery this afternoon. Sure, he’d love to dive back between Cameron’s thighs because it was quite literally the best sex he’d ever had, but he could exercise a little self-restraint to keep the girl away from Kadia and all the things that came along with it.

  Violence, death, grief, pain, prison. All of it.

  The six of them lounged around while other employees started showing up. They shot the shit while the dancers put their makeup and outfits on, and cleared away from the bar when the servers hit the floor and partook in their start-of-the-night tequila shots, courtesy of Keesha. She knew firsthand that sometimes a girl needed a little liquid courage to smile at the men who cam
e to Kadia on Saturday nights. Taking the edge off helped keep them on their toes in a fluid way. They responded better to come-ons and went with the flow when a man grabbed their ass and tucked a hundred-dollar bill in the waistband of their bottoms.

  By the time customers started coming in, Cole had begun his rounds.

  He noticed within the first hour how much clearer his mind was as he moved through the dark club. Usually at a time like this, he’d be easily distracted by thoughts of Adam Cooper or dark memories from his past.

  But that didn’t happen tonight. He kept a clear mind. He enjoyed chatting with guests and fellow employees. He lent an extra hand where needed and he didn’t feel like the weight of the world was on his shoulders.

  It was a refreshing feeling, and there was only one reason he could think of that put him at ease like this—and he’d thrown that reason out and forbade it from ever coming back.

  For the first time since last night, he started to wonder if he’d made the right call banishing Cameron from Kadia.

  He gave his head a shake.

  You made the right call for her, he told himself. Not for you. For her.

  17

  Cameron

  Cameron stood outside the entrance to Kadia. The club entrance was as impressive on the street as it was inside. The sign flashed high above her head, hanging from a mount on the third level and dripping down one letter after the other, spelling out the word that sounded like magic but stood for menace.

  “Kadia,” Cameron breathed as she gazed up at the lit-up sign. “You fickle little bitch.”

  She knew she shouldn’t be there. Pauline had advised against it. Her own common sense advised against it. And Cole?

  Well, Cameron knew full well where he stood.

  And yet here she was, feet planted on the sidewalk and set shoulder width apart. She’d shown up in her I-don’t-take-no-shit outfit: a skin-tight ruby-red dress with criss-crossing straps down the back and a feminine lace trim around the hem that ended just above her knees. The dress showed off her legs, her cleavage, her shoulders, her décolletage, and her back—all of it.