Crave: A Reverse Harem Romance

by Roma James

  With ten new people coming in, I was satisfied with the way the night was headed. As long as none of the new people caused any trouble, everything would be just fine.

  I heard footsteps come up from behind me, and turned to see Diesel approaching with a smile.

  He slapped his hand on my shoulder, his usual carefree grin spread across his face. “How are things going tonight?” he asked.

  Diesel knew that I always had my finger on the pulse of the club. Nothing escaped my notice.

  “Pretty well,” I nodded toward the dance floor on the other side of the glass. “Ten new people so far.”

  “And the night is still young,” he said, following my gaze. “Not bad. Not bad at all.”

  Someone who didn’t know better would probably be surprised to learn that Diesel was the majority owner. He had a bigger share in Crave than the rest of us, and he was here pretty much every night we were open. Although unlike me, Diesel didn’t come here just to work.

  He enjoyed being at Crave for… other reasons.

  For all his success, Diesel didn’t really share my business focus. Not that he wasn’t a decent businessman, of course. He was clearly doing quite well for himself. Still, his attitude and mine were very different. His main objective in life? To have fun and a lot of it.

  I, on the other hand, took a much more focused approach. My work was my life. Fun wasn’t something I associated with my time at the club.

  “I’m gonna head down and check out the fresh meat,” he said, his grin spreading as he leered out across the dance floor.

  Diesel was a ladies’ man, through and through. He found a woman to hook up with pretty much every night of the week. I’d never seen him settle down with any of these women, but it didn’t seem hard for him to find them.

  I couldn’t help laughing as I shook my head. “You have fun with that.”

  “I can’t convince you to join me?” he asked.

  “You know I don’t mix business with pleasure, Diesel.” I kept my tone friendly but firm. It wasn’t the first time he’d tried—and failed—to talk me into sampling some of the perks that came with owning a club like this.

  But no. Not tonight.

  It would take a hell of a lot more temptation than anything he had on offer to get me to change my mind.

  “You know, it’s really a waste,” Diesel sighed, giving me a sideways glance.

  “What is?”

  “The fact that you’re this good-looking, stoic dude who chicks would climb all over. You and me could hit the floor of that club and have ‘em chasing after us like moths to a flame. It would be easy as hell.”

  I smiled. “I don’t think you’ll have any trouble getting the girls without me.”

  “Of course not.” He gave a cocky grin and a half-shrug before walking over to the elevator to head downstairs. “It’s just that my way would have been a hell of a lot more fun.”

  It wasn’t that I didn’t look at the women who came in.

  I did. It would have been impossible not to.

  I had eyes, after all. And a dick that liked attention just like any other man.

  When I was out looking for that sort of thing, I had no problem making the first move when I found a girl that caught my eye.

  But I couldn’t imagine losing control while I was in this building the way Diesel did. This was my place of work, my business.

  I couldn’t approach women here. I had an image to maintain as an owner.

  One of us had to worry about that sort of thing, right?

  I wanted to be taken seriously, and I wanted Crave to be taken seriously.

  Thanks to me, it was.

  We were respected by other business owners in the area, despite what we offered here. I liked to think it was because of the serious image I worked my ass off to set forth that we didn’t have the locals complaining about our presence.

  There were plenty of sex clubs that were constantly fighting off calls from the cops by annoyed neighbors or jealous competitors, even when they weren’t doing anything wrong.

  Not us. We had respect that they didn’t.

  And I intended to keep it that way.

  I walked away from the one-way mirror and toward the surveillance room. In there was one of our security people, Tony. He was leaned back in his chair, glancing between the cameras.

  When I first came up with the plan to hire someone to watch the wall of monitors at all times, I was worried that people would take advantage. That they’d get hired with us and we’d be paying them to sit in a room and they wouldn’t pay attention to the cameras at all.

  But, of course, I found the exact opposite. Due to the nature of the club, our security guys seemed glued to the screens. There was always something interesting happening on them. As soon as I stepped through the door, my eyes automatically fell onto a group of three people—one woman with two men—who all had their tops off.

  “How are things looking tonight?” I asked Tony.

  “Good. No real issues. At one point I saw a guy getting real close on the dance floor to this girl who was looking anxious, so I phoned down to Oscar and told him to keep an eye on them. The guy left her alone.”

  “Good man.” I nodded to him. “Keep it up.”

  I sat down in another empty chair and started scanning the security cameras myself.

  This was one of my favorite things to do when I was at Crave. Unlike Diesel, I had no desire to go down and join the party myself. Seeing everything running smoothly in the club was enough to keep me happy while I was there.

  One of the screens caught my eye, making me do a double-take.

  It was the security camera for the bar area, where we had a bunch of couches and cocktail waitresses that handed out drinks. I zoned in on one girl who looked uncomfortable on the couch.

  I knew why she caught my attention, too… specifically because she looked uncomfortable. I had trained myself to keep an eye out for any woman who didn’t look like she was enjoying herself at Crave. It was something else I did to make Crave as safe as possible. Usually, if you spot an uncomfortable woman, there’s a creepy man not far behind her.

  “What’s the story with this girl?” I asked Tony.

  He looked at the camera. “She and her friend sat down just a few minutes ago.”

  She had long, dark brown hair that fell halfway down her back. She had a drink in her hand she was sipping, but even through the monitor I could see she wasn’t having a good time.

  There were no creeps around that I could see, though. At least, not yet. She was just chatting up another young woman that looked to be about her age, a petite redheaded woman. She was pretty, too, but my eyes kept darting back to the brunette.

  If I had seen her outside of work, there would be no denying that she was my type. She was absolutely stunning. Had I ran into her at the coffee shop or the bank, I certainly would have tried to get her number. Even now, it was tempting to break every single one of my personal rules just to go down and meet her.

  But no, I wasn’t Diesel. That was not something I did. I would never hit on a woman at this club. I did want to know what was bothering her, though. She seemed chatty enough with her red-headed friend. Was it the music? The drinks? The service?

  As long as it wasn’t another club member, I was content enough to sit up here and watch from a distance.

  That was exactly what I did for a while. I glanced at the other cameras from time to time as well, of course, but my eyes kept coming back to her.

  Still, I didn’t want to be too obvious. As an owner of the club, I felt it was important to set a good example for my employees, and letting Tony see me drool over a woman—no matter how hot she might be—wasn’t a great idea.

  Ultimately, though, I stared at her in the bar a lot more than I’d meant to. She never did look more comfortable, not even as she was on her second drink of the night. She really didn’t want to be here, and I already knew I wasn’t going to be able to think of anything else until I found
out why.

  Stopping myself from walking down there and getting some more information was taking a lot more willpower than I would have liked to admit.

  She had gotten up to chase her friend who had moved toward the dance floor, and the second she turned around, a man moved into the frame and dropped something in the drink she had set on the side table.

  Fuck. That.

  “Tony!” I called out to him as I stood up. “Dammit!”

  “What?” he asked frantically, his eyes flicking from me back to the bank of monitors. “What’s going on?”

  “That man—right there!” I pointed to where he was in the bar. “He just spiked someone’s drink. Call down to security immediately and tell them to look for him and a brunette woman in a tight black dress. They need to stop him before he can go anywhere.”

  “I’m on it.” He pulled out his walkie-talkie and started yelling out the security code. We had code names for every situation, and this was a code pink.

  “Call the police immediately after,” I said as I stood up.

  He looked over at me after giving both descriptions. “Are you going down there?”

  I didn’t even have time to answer him. I didn’t want to think of what might happen if she turned around and picked up that drink.

  Maybe I could get to her before that happened, though. Maybe staring at her for the past several minutes would actually pay off, since now I knew exactly what she looked like and exactly where she was in the bar.

  I sprinted down the hall and toward the back stairs, which thankfully would lead me right to the entrance of the bar area. I was panicked in a way I didn’t expect to be. I could feel my heart pounding as I ran down the stairs as fast as I possibly could.

  I had to get to her.

  Chapter 3 - Harlow

  I tried not to make a face as I finished off the last of my second mojito. Liza dared me to chug it and had cheered excitedly as I put the glass on the side table next to the couch.

  “This is the Harlow I’ve been waiting to see,” she said, clasping her hands together as she waved over the cocktail waitress. “We should get another one.”

  My eyes widened. “Okay, seriously, Liza… no.” I put my hands up in a mock surrender. “No more. That’s enough drinking for me tonight.”

  I knew it was totally pathetic, but I was completely tipsy off those two drinks. I did not want to be one of those sloppy drunk girls. Especially not in these heels.

  Thank God we were still sitting on the couch and that Liza hadn’t insisted we go anywhere else, because honestly? Liquor and stilettos had never been a good combination for me. Add in the fact that we were in a sex club, and that was just a recipe for disaster.

  “Come on, Harlow.” Liza threw me an exasperated look. “It’s been two drinks. It’s not like I’m asking you to do a shot…” Her voice trailed off and I knew that was exactly what she was thinking of asking me to do. “Just one more, please? I’ll drink one with you. What is there to lose?”

  I sighed, and when I didn’t immediately say no, I knew we were both in trouble. My inhibitions were lowered, I was ready to drink more, and I was already not myself. But I didn’t worry about it too much. It was just one night and I had nothing to do tomorrow, so if I ended up with a hangover, well… at least I could say I had earned it, right?

  “Fine,” I said. “But just one more.”

  She squealed, and the cocktail waitress turned around and found her way to us.

  “Another round?” she asked.

  “Yes, please,” Liza nodded gleefully.

  I sighed and shook my head. “Honestly, girl, you are too much.”

  “Me?” she asked, in a far-too-innocent tone. “Never.”

  I could tell she was feeling good, and that made me smile. It was the first time all night I felt like we were really starting to let our guard down and have a good time.

  The waitress returned with our drinks, and we both immediately grabbed them and took a few sips. They were honestly damn good mojitos, and I was pretty sure I would have felt that way even if I hadn’t already knocked back two of them.

  Suddenly, the song blaring out of the speakers changed, and Liza’s jaw dropped.

  “Oh my God, oh my God! This is my song, Harlow!” She jumped up, and I was pretty impressed at how smooth she looked in her own heels. If I had jumped up like that, I’d be on my face right now.

  Even before she offered me a hand and gave me an expectant look, I knew there was no way she was going to let me sit this one out.

  “Let’s go,” she said, grabbing my wrist and pulling me to my feet insistently. “I don’t want to go out there and dance by myself.”

  I shook my head, suddenly feeling a little too wobbly in my shoes. “I don’t think I can,” I said, grimacing as I looked down at my feet. How was it possible that they still hurt this bad after two drinks? Wasn’t liquor supposed to numb the pain?

  When was my body going to get that memo?

  Leave it to Liza to convince me to grab another drink and then immediately ditch me to dance.

  “Come on, Harlow, we’re going to miss the whole song.” She pulled at my hand, but I stayed put.

  “I will literally fall on my face.” I stood my ground and shook my head. “You could not pay me a million dollars to get on the dance floor right now. And anyway, one of us has to keep an eye on our drinks. You go. I’ll cheer you on from over here.”

  She rolled her eyes. “I’ll get you out on that floor before the end of the night.”

  Thankfully, she seemed satisfied with that threat and hurried off to the dance floor.

  I sat back down, relieved at first that I had gotten out of dancing so easily.

  Well, relatively easily. I would still no doubt have to find another excuse later when the mood struck her again, but I was at least good for now.

  Except I realized as I looked around at the men whose eyes all still seemed to be on me that I was now alone on this couch.

  Probably not the brightest move on my part.

  With a heavy sigh, I pushed myself back up and tried to rush after her, but it was no use. She was way more balanced than I was, and she was out on the dance floor in seconds. I, on the other hand, was starting to trip over my own feet. I had to stop moving before I actually fell on my face.

  I had to laugh at Liza, though. The second she hit the dance floor, she began to wildly swing her hips around. She had always been the life of the party, the star of the show.

  I very carefully turned around and walked the few steps back to the black leather couch. I bent over to grab my drink and plopped down onto it. I was just about to take a sip when it was quickly jerked from my hand, some of it even spilled onto my dress.

  “Hey!” I yelled, recoiling even though I could feel a flash of anger rise up inside of me. “That’s my drink!”

  “I’m very sorry, ma’am,” he said in a careful, even tone. He took the mojito and set it on the bar top behind him, where I watched indignantly as the bartender took it away.

  “Who are you calling ma’am? How old do I look to you?” I started to stand up, preparing to yell at him some more because taking a drink out of someone’s hand is incredibly rude and I couldn’t imagine why he did it. But as I stood, I began to wobble in my heels again.

  Drink-Stealer grabbed my elbow and steadied me. “Easy, there,” he said softly.

  “I will not take it easy,” I said, jerking my arm away. I could feel my face flush with embarrassment, but the irritation at being manhandled and having my drink taken won out over any thoughts over who might have seen me nearly lose my balance. “You owe me a drink. And an apology.”

  He grabbed the crook of my elbow and began to lead me away from the bar area.

  “Hey, where the hell are you taking me?” I snapped at him. “I’m here with my friend. Liza!” Panicked, I looked over at Liza and attempted to flag her down. She didn’t notice me waving at her, though, since she was too caught up in her dancing. “Seriousl
y, let go of me.” I wriggled against him trying to get loose. “Who the hell do you think you are?”

  He leaned in toward me suddenly, a serious look on his face. “Look, I promise I’m not trying to hurt you, okay? I need you to come with me while we take care of this situation. I’m just trying to keep you safe.”

  I looked back at where Liza and I had been sitting, the space that was currently occupied by three giant men in security shirts and one scrawny older guy who was looking very nervous. Whatever was going on, I was pretty sure I’d rather take my chances with Drink-Stealer than with those guys back there.

  He walked me over to the elevators, and once we were inside, he punched the button for the third floor. I didn’t even know this club had a third floor. All I ever saw was the second.

  Drink-Stealer still had his hand carefully on my elbow, which I was actually grateful for now. I did not trust myself to be able to stay upright at the moment, and he was keeping me steady.

  I felt the familiar whoosh of the elevator as it began to rise. I always loved that feeling as a kid, and I remember begging my mom to let me ride the elevator twice whenever we had to use one. Now the feeling sort of turned my stomach, though whether it was more from the alcohol or the adrenaline, I wasn’t sure.

  The elevator doors opened and he led me down the hall of the third floor. I couldn’t help but notice that there was this giant window where I could see basically the entire club below. Huh. I hadn’t even noticed it from the first floor.

  He took me to a small office and sat me down in an armchair before walking around the desk and taking a seat himself.

  “I’m very sorry to take your drink and pull you away like that,” he began to tell me, “but I saw someone slip something into it.”

  My heart dropped and I immediately felt much more sober. Holy shit… somebody had tried to drug me?