I grit my teeth. “That may be mildly true, but I’m here now – and I did it all on my own.”
Dante raises an eyebrow. “Really? You started this establishment with money you earned dancing inside my exclusive club. A club that boasts over one thousand auditions each and every year from dancers all over the world. Without me, you’d be slinging burgers at In-N-Out on Tropicana. Can I get fries with that?” He bursts out laughing, and I can see how much he loves being a bully.
Thrives on it.
“I wasn’t a stripper,” I say, drawing myself to my full height and holding my head high. Dante can take his lewd insinuations and shove them straight up his rigid ass. “I kept my clothes on. You’re forgetting that I sang, too. Remember, I’m an award-winning singer. And dancer. I’ve been dancing since I was old enough to walk.”
Dante makes a sweeping motion with his hand. “Taryn, if you think the men were coming in to watch you sing, you’re not as sophisticated as you pretend to be.” His eyes float down my body, and it feels like spiders crawling over my skin.
I open my mouth to object, but he’s pushed the button on one of my biggest limiting beliefs, and no words of self-defense will come out.
He grins. “They were coming in droves to view your physical attributes. A man likes a full rack that isn’t made of silicone. And your tits. Well…they’re perfection. A successful businessman doesn’t like dealing with a whore. So, my entertainment director learned to just dress the whores up in La Perla. But the accouterments don’t change what’s underneath. Don’t kid yourself. Singer, dancer, stripper – all the same thing in my book. It’s adult entertainment, Vegas style. And you, my dear, went all in.”
I stare at him, picturing my head exploding off my body. My mom taught me that a lady never loses her temper. My mom’s never met Dante Giovanetti.
“I know you’re just trying to bait me,” I spit out, wishing I could actually spit in his smug face. I remember why I’ve always hated him – he’s a chauvinist pig who thinks that every woman is beneath him.
Dante winks. Winks. The gesture sets lose a fire in me, and I can feel the angry heat coming off my body in waves. “I know. It’s such fun. I just can’t resist.” He glances around, licking his lips and nodding as I suppress another shiver, but this time, it’s half-disgust and half-rage. “Real nice place you’ve built here at Caldwell’s. Classy. High-end. Did you ever think about thanking an old friend for getting you to your present lucrative position?”
I groan. He can’t be serious. I walk over to the counter and take a bottle of water from the complimentary display. He acts like he owns me and nothing pisses me off more. Men don’t own me. They never have and they never will.
“Well?” Dante runs his tapered fingers all over a display of Temperley London silk dresses. Caressing them. Dammit, I want to put my foot on his sculpted ass and push until he hits the promenade outside the store in a perfect face plant. “After all, I helped you get on your feet. I took a chance on a little hayseed from Nebraska fresh off the farm, needing money for college. And this is how she repays me?”
“I’m from South Dakota, and you forget that it was my hard-earned money,” I shoot back. “To do with as I please. I don’t work for you anymore, Dante. I work for me.”
“Yeah, well, that may be, Taryn Mitchell.” He clearly disagrees. In fact, the man looks as if he wants to slap me inside my own establishment. I stare at the twitching fingers he’s fisted at his sides. “But the thing is…” He trails off and walks closer, sending a shiver of panic down my spine as his massive frame looms over me. He could kill me if he wanted to. I bristle in rigid defiance. “I scratch your back, you scratch mine.”
“What do you want?”
“Oh, not much.” Dante looks at his manicured nails. “Just a twenty-percent assistance tax. That’s only fair, don’t you think?”
My heart sinks, but at the same time, I want to stomp my foot and explode into a temper tantrum. He can’t get away with this. He can’t possibly resort to extortion, or else I’ll lose my store and everything in it. I operate at a much smaller margin than he’s proposed just to break even.
“It’s not that much, Taryn,” Dante says as he raises an eyebrow. “So, does that sound amenable to you?” He grins and shakes his head, thinking he has me. Guess again, prick. “Besides, twenty percent is less than most of our other friends are required to pay. You should consider accepting before I make it thirty-five. Of course, you could always break your lease with Caldwell here at this shitbox and come on over to the Mona Lisa. Perhaps we could work something else out. Something that wouldn’t require your cold, hard cash.”
His lascivious gaze sweeps my body, and I know what that something else is before he even goes further.
“Get out,” I say, fisting my hands to keep from throwing a punch. That wouldn’t be ladylike, and I pride myself on my current sophisticated image that grew through considerable grace under fire. “Now.”
I point to the door. By now, I seethe and tremble, and I can’t even hide it. I don’t care – I want to rip this man apart, limb from limb. Dante Giovanetti is the biggest bully in Las Vegas, and I’m sure as hell not going to let him push me around anymore.
“Taryn.” Dante sighs. “Don’t do this. Don’t do something you’ll regret while you’re under the influence of champagne and…anger.”
His faux-apologetic tone is what launches me into the stratosphere. Balling my hands into fists at my sides, I shake my head and glare. I can practically feel the steam rising out of my ears as I take a deep breath and prepare to give Dante the biggest middle finger I’ve ever thrown.
“Kindly leave my store,” I hiss. “You don’t own me, Dante Giovanetti! And you’d better cut out the veiled threats. You don’t own me, or anyone else in this city. If you ever come back here again, I’ll call the cops on your ass. I’m sure they’d love to hear about your machinations.”
This time, Dante’s laugh has a dangerous edge. “You think the authorities aren’t in my back pocket? You really are a redneck hick. I’ve been greasing them for so long they’ve turned into Crisco covered robots. And I’m at the controls.”
I swallow and press my lips into a thin line. “Don’t mess with me,” I say in a low, equally dangerous voice. “I may look like your redneck target practice, but I’m a lot stronger than you realize. I’ve grown. I’ve changed. Made myself into something new. Better. And you can’t take that away from me in spite of bringing ghosts from the past back to life.”
Dante’s nasty grin fades for a second, and I sense anger, hot and true, steaming from his pores. For a moment, we stand there, glaring at each other. Then Dante shakes his head and laughs as he turns on his heel to leave.
“You’re making a big mistake,” he threatens. “I’d highly recommend you reconsider and give me a call at my office. We’ll talk. Do lunch.”
The door chimes as the bastard leaves, and I brace myself against the counter and slump down.
So much for that Kristal. Now, I’ll be lucky if I can afford beer.
Chapter Two
Taryn
After Satan leaves, limping out on his cloven hoof, I shake with an anger so deep it feels like every cell in my body throbs under its power. I can barely see straight. Just when I finally thought I’d launch my career into orbit – just when I manage to pick up the most prominent brand since my store’s grand opening, Dante shows up like a clump of hair swirling the drain.
My mind races with wild thoughts, all of them self-destructive and yet somehow appealing. I want to chase after the man, to leap on his back and choke him until his greasy head cracks against the Vegas strip. I want to curl up in a ball behind the counter of Strict Nécessaire, drink all of my complimentary champagne, and cry until my throat is hoarse.
But I won’t do any of those things.
Because I’m too numb to move.
When the door chimes and swings open again, I can barely muster the strength to turn around.
&nbs
p; “What?” I say in a voice just above a tortured whisper, closing my eyes and sighing. “Dante, if it’s you…just get out before I call the cops.”
“Taryn, why are you huddled in the corner. What the hell happened here?”
I grit my teeth at the gritty, sexy voice and turn around. Nixon Caldwell, my landlord, stands there with a concerned look on his face. Like Dante, Nixon’s loaded. He owns one of the most prestigious casinos on the strip and the popular promenade that houses all these high-end stores, including mine. But unlike Dante, Nixon’s a good man. He’s never treated me with anything but total professionalism. I know that there’s no love lost between Nixon and Dante, although I have no idea of the specifics. Rumors swirl around the man and rumble up and down the strip, but I’ve never been one to believe in things I don’t hear straight from the horse’s mouth. Where I come from, people shoot straight.
“Nothing I can’t handle.” My problems belong only to me. Nixon doesn’t deserve to be dragged down into my littered gutter. “Did you need something today, Nixon?”
“I heard something about you snagging Ivory Clause Ready to Wear,” Nixon says, a rare grin breaking out across his handsome face. The man’s got eyes such a dark shade of blue, they appear black. “Thought that was worth a personal visit. Nicely done, Taryn. I’m really proud of you.”
I smile, wanting to lean into the compliment and accept it with all the grace I deserve, but Dante’s visit has cast a bleak shadow over my positive emotions. “Thanks,” I say, heaving another sigh. “I just don’t really feel like celebrating right now. Although, I did…just a few minutes ago. Don’t you sometimes wish that life had a rewind button?”
“I’m more about moving forward.” Nixon raises an eyebrow. “What happened?”
I lift my shoulders in what I hope is a casual shrug. Nixon doesn’t need to know that I’m in deep with his arch nemesis. I don’t want anything to come between my cordial and even friendly relationship with Nixon Caldwell. “Forget it.”
I don’t really feel like sharing my sad life story. Nixon’s a man to be admired, important in this city, and he’s always been fair to me, but we’re not exactly intimate friends. I’ve rented space from him in his casino for almost a year now, and I wouldn’t want him thinking that I’m one of those women who attracts – or enjoys – drama.
“Alright,” Nixon says with a little frown. I can tell he doesn’t believe me. “Look, how about if I hand over a couple of VIP passes? My new dance club is pretty hot right now. Maybe you and a friend could go have a nice night out on me. It’s important to celebrate life’s successes.”
“That’s nice,” I say, wondering what’s in it for him. Last I heard, he didn’t give two shits about celebrating anything. Maybe the rumblings are true, and Marcella’s softened him some. “Thanks.”
I don’t really feel like partying. Bailey and I were supposed to celebrate, but we hadn’t had anything lavish in mind. Pizza, wine, and a chick flick. Still, maybe a night at Nixon’s new club will take my mind off Dante. I find I want to sweep away all memories of that prick from my day.
Nixon reaches into his wallet and hands me two shiny passes. “Just enjoy yourself,” he says. “Getting Ivory Clause is a big deal, Taryn. The women are going to go nuts over this exclusive contract – she’s so hot right now. As soon as you get an exclusive in Marcella’s size, set it aside.”
I nod and smile even though thinking about Dante makes my lips want to turn upside down. He just has a way of getting under my skin like a chigger. “Of course. Ivory’s super popular and Marcella would look stunning in one of her dresses. I’ll be sure to call Carol once I have one I think would be perfect.”
Nixon stares at me, and I can tell he’s waiting for me to open up. But as the seconds tick by, I start feeling more miserable than ever.
I catch a glimpse of one of my employees and jump on the excuse like a life line. “I’m just about to hand things over to the evening manager.”
He frowns for an instant but allows me out of the conversation gracefully. “Okay. I’ll go then.” He gives me another warm smile. “Have a good time tonight. Let me know what you think. I want to make sure I’m doing everything right. We’ve never had a dance club like this in the Armónico. You’ve got a very exacting eye for style. I value your opinion.”
“Will do.” I nod, wishing him out the door so I can step out of the pressure cooker. “Thanks again, Nixon. I’m sure I’ll love it.”
As soon as the door chimes again, I slump against the counter and dig my iPhone out of my bag.
“Hey!” Bailey says, shrieking so loud I have to pull the phone away. “Did you get it?”
“Yeah.” Even to my own ringing ears, I don’t sound nearly as chipper as my bestie, and I won’t be able to pull the wool over her eyes. She seems to anticipate my every mood. “I got it.”
“What’s wrong?” I can tell by the sound of her voice that Bailey’s frowning. “What happened?”
“I’ll tell you later,” I say, knowing that news of Vegas’s most hated requires a face-to-face. “Want to meet at Velvet?”
“Where?”
“Nixon’s new dance club. The one that just opened.”
Bailey gives a nervous giggle. She’s like my soul sister. We’re both farm fed gals from the rural Midwest and meat markets serving as dance clubs aren’t our usual haunt.
“I don’t know. I don’t really feel like waiting in line. You know, the red velvet ropes and all that. Don’t even mention finding a suitable dress to squeeze my T & A into. Too many double stuffed Oreos this month.”
I can hear the gears in her mind turning, worrying about how she looks and what she’s wearing. Bailey has that fresh-faced, girl next door vibe that doesn’t quite fit in with the plastic Vegas norm.
“I have VIP passes,” I say, glancing down at the shiny cards in my hand. “And bottle service. Nixon Caldwell came over and gave them to me. He told me to celebrate my victory.”
“Well, damn, girl! Why didn’t you say so?” Bailey laughs. “When do you wanna go?”
I glance down at my watch. It’s late afternoon, and the club doesn’t open until eight. That will give me plenty of time to hand things over at the store to Josie, my manager working the night shift and glam myself up, so I’m worthy of Velvet. There’s a new cocktail dress I’ve been dying to wear.
“Let’s get there right when they open the doors. I’ll meet you at the front entrance to the club at eight, Bails-of-hay.”
She laughs. “Done. See you later, Tarynwreck.”
***
A few minutes after eight, we’re seated at the largest and most luxe table in Velvet. There’s a bottle of Grey Goose chilling in an ice bucket courtesy of Nixon Caldwell, but I’ve already got a gin and tonic in my hand. Taking a long sip, I wait for the warm, familiar fuzz of alcohol to hit my bloodstream and make my troubles fall away.
By the time Bailey takes a few sips of her Cosmo, I’m well on my way to tipsy. She leans down and gives me a hug, lifting her glass so we can toast.
“I guess I’ve got some catching up to do,” Bailey says as our glasses clink together. Some of my gin and tonic sloshes toward the rim. She tosses the Cosmo down her throat and grimaces, wiping her mouth on the back of her hand. “Why does even the good stuff taste so awful?” She groans. “I always feel like I might throw up the first shot. Isn’t vodka supposed to be tasteless?”
“You should drink more,” I say, pushing the bottle of vodka toward my friend. “Today, we’re mourning.”
“Taryn, what are you talking about?” Bailey bites her lip and shakes her head of auburn curls. Her killer curves are encased in a crimson Michael Kors that she borrowed from me. “You got Ivory Clause! That’s good! Better than good. Hell, that’s huge!”
“Yeah.” I cast my eyes downward as I take a fortifying inhale. “You know what else is huge?”
Bailey narrows her eyes. “No. What?”
“The twenty-percent friendship extortion tax tha
t Dante Giovanetti wants me to give him just for being alive.” I drain the rest of my drink, then slam the highball glass down on the shiny surface of the table. “That’s pretty fucking huge. Huge enough, I daresay, to ruin Strict Nécessaire and put me out of business forever. All my dreams swirling the toilet bowl of a total douche before they get sucked down into the sewer.”
Bailey frowns and her soulful brown eyes widen as she absorbs what I just said. “Oh, Taryn,” she wails, shaking her head in dismay. “He’s so crooked! There’s no way that’s legal, no way. You should get a lawyer, or at least tell Nixon. He’s your landlord, he’ll go to bat for you. Besides, word on the street says he and Dante hate each other’s guts. Nixon’s a bad-ass.”
I sigh, slumping my shoulders and leaning against the leather booth. For a moment, I wish the buttery upholstery could swallow me whole and transport me to a world where the mafia and extortion did not exist. “I can’t tell him. At least, not right now.”
“Why not?” Bailey reaches out and rubs my shoulder, and I lean into the comforting touch. “Taryn, he’s a good guy, I’m sure he’ll help. He’ll know how to deal with someone like that crook.”
I cover my face with my hands. I’m not sure that dealing with Dante is even possible. Whenever I close my lids, the room starts to blur and shake. A dizzying feeling comes over me. Good. I want to forget all about him. In fact, I want to forget about all men. They’re nothing but trouble.
Fuck everything with a penis.
“It’s just not fair,” I moan. “Just when I finally thought I was getting somewhere.”
Tightwad (Caldwell Brothers Book 2) Page 2
