Earning Her Trust: Braxton Arcade Book One

by Adore Ian

  “Nothing,” I lie.

  Priya starts warming up at the pole nearest me. She’s average height with long dark hair and killer curves. She catches my eyes in the mirrored wall in front of us. “It’s eight A.M. and you’ve been in here for more than two hours. Spill, bitch.”

  “Kiley rat me out?” Kiley’s the head of security. Nothing happens in this building he doesn’t know about.

  “Of course. He caught me on my way in and asked if I’d check on you. You going to tell me what’s up?”

  “Nothing’s up.” I flip off the closest security camera and hope Kiley’s watching.

  She chuckles. “That’ll teach him.”

  Priya bartends at the Arcade a few nights a week, but her main job is working here at the 13th Floor. She’s one of the headliners and she brings in a shitload of money. She’s queen of the burlesque striptease, but she also caters to the members who are into dom/sub kinks on the upper levels.

  The main floor of the club is located on the thirteenth floor of a high rise in the city—hence the name. But the whole club is five floors total.

  Currently, we’re on the fourteenth floor where the dance studio, costume shop, offices and kitchens are located. It’s basically the club’s backstage and it’s for employees only.

  Priya adjusts her purple bralette, the color perfectly complements her pale brown skin. “So you’re not in here wearing yourself out because of Mr. One Direction?”

  I snort at the name Priya gave Damian the first night he came to the bar and started flirting with me. It’s true, though. He does look like a taller, more muscular Zayn.

  “He asked me to be exclusive.” I say it as if it’s not the single most terrifying and exciting thing to happen to me in years.

  “Get out,” she squeals. “Aren’t you excited? That boy is cute and clearly into you.”

  I shrug.

  She does a back stretch with the pole and I get the distinct impression she’s angling her cleavage to the security camera. “What aren’t you telling me?”

  I spill. I tell her about the scene Jake made at the bar and how the night ended with me in Damian’s bed. I tell her about the text he sent (that I have no idea how to respond to) and that he came to my door early Monday morning and that I didn’t answer.

  Yeah, I’m an asshole.

  “Let me get this straight. Your hot-as-sin fuck buddy asked you to be exclusive and you said yes. And you’re stressing about it because you’re worried he’ll get the wrong impression and want to be your boyfriend…?”

  I groan. “No. Yes—I don’t know.”

  She faces me. “This isn’t about him getting the wrong impression, this is about you not wanting to let anyone in. You really like this boy, don’t you?”

  I let my silence answer for me.

  “What are you scared of? That he’ll find out you grew up in a shitty neighborhood in a shitty home? That you’re smarter than Einstein and got a full ride to one of the best universities on the east coast? That you’re a fantastic dancer who can work a pole better than anyone on this side of the Mississippi?”

  I laugh at that last one.

  “Help me out, Mar. You’re a catch and one tough bitch. Any man who can’t handle your background is a soft prick and not worth your time.”

  I sigh because she’s right.

  “What did you tell him when he saw your scars?”

  I straighten, a hand going to my lower stomach. “He hasn’t. I always keep them covered.”

  She whistles out a breath as she twirls around the pole. “Damn, girl. You are a serious control freak.”

  “I know,” I whine. “What do I do?”

  “Talk to him, get to know him better. Just because he grew up in a mansion doesn’t mean his life has been perfect. Maybe he can relate.”

  I slide to the floor. “And I broach the conversation how, exactly? Hey, Damian. FYI some asshole tried to kill me a few Thanksgivings ago, but don’t worry, she’s in prison and I have a restraining order against her psycho boyfriend who sometimes stalks me from his red truck.” I give Priya a level look.

  “Well, when you put it like that it sounds—”

  “Trashy?”

  “I was going to say like a soap opera.” When I groan, she adds, “My advice is get to know him better. Don’t invite him to Christmas dinner or anything, but do more with him than just sex. Knowing more about him will give you a better sense for how he might react to your story.” She spins around the pole, dropping to the floor in the splits. “And relax. Right now it’s just sex. And you trust him enough to safely give you that, so let him. And build from there.”

  She makes a valid point. I know things about Damian, but I don’t know Damian. I know he’s rich, has a killer body, and is skilled in both the bedroom and the kitchen. I know he threw a huge dorm party freshman year and the cops were called. Rumor has it, he threw the party because his dad died, but that’s probably not the whole story. Point is, I don’t know enough about him to safely say whether or not he’d judge me if he knew what happened to me.

  So maybe I should try to get to know him…

  I spend the rest of the morning working out in the studio before I have to leave for class.

  It’s Film Noir Thursday at the Braxton Arcade, and tonight we’re showing Double Indemnity on the projector. I’m working the bar with Elle and it’s slow. Weeknights usually are.

  I lose myself in the film, in the way Phyllis draws Neff into her orbit. She’s shiny, beautiful and dangerous. She reels him in like a fish on a hook. They’re not in love, they’re in lust. And in the end, it doesn’t work out between them because it can’t. She’s using him to get what she wants.

  Right or wrong, I’ve always admired Phyllis. But I don’t want to be like her. Not when it comes to Damian anyway. Whatever’s between us may have started in mutual lust, but it’s different now. Changed.

  Fuck if I know.

  I’m so engrossed in the film, I don’t notice the phone ringing. Luckily, Elle does.

  “Braxton Arcade, how can I help you?” There’s a pause. “Hello?” She hangs up. “That’s annoying.”

  I turn. “Who was it?”

  “A butt dial.”

  The phone we use is as much a piece of memorabilia as the items in the display case behind the bar. It’s classy and retro and lacks caller ID.

  I check the time. “Why don’t you take your fifteen? I’ll watch the bar, seeing as we’re so busy.”

  She grabs her purse and heads out front, sitting at one of the tables. I don’t miss the way Conor’s eyes follow her. Nor do I miss that the people whose IDs he just checked are Damian and Hayden.

  I brace myself as Hayden heads to the quarter machine and Damian heads toward me. I still haven’t responded to his text, and because I never expected him to show up, I have no preplanned excuse if he asks why.

  He leans against the bar and my stomach does an annoying flip.

  “Thought I’d find you here,” he says cheekily.

  “It is where I work. Can I get you a drink?”

  “Are you avoiding me?”

  I glance at Hayden, who’s trying to feed a wrinkled dollar into the quarter machine by the door. No one else is within earshot. The other customers are either playing games or watching the movie. “No.”

  “So you weren’t in your apartment the other morning when I came over?”

  I look away. “Do you want something to drink or not?”

  “You were home,” he says. “Why didn’t you answer the door?”

  At the confusion on his face, I snap. “Because I’m not obligated to let you in, Damian. I don’t want you in my space all the time. Once in a while is fine, but not every time we have sex. It’s weird and annoying.”

  Hurt and embarrassment sober his face. “Wow, okay. I overstepped. My bad.” He turns to leave, but Hayden comes up.

  “Hey, Mar,” he says. “Can I get a—”

  The phone rings.

  “Hold on,” I
grumble, pivoting to answer. “Braxton Arcade. How can I help you?” I look at Hayden and point to the tap handle of our darkest beer. He gives a thumbs up, and I grab a glass. “Hello?” I hear nothing but rustling on the receiver. I hang up. “Update your phone, asshole.”

  “Butt dial?” Hayden asks as I slide him a beer.

  “Yeah. This is the twenty-first century, they don’t make phones susceptible to ass dials anymore. Jesus, get a new phone. It’s fucking annoying.” I check my anger because—let’s be real—a butt dial is not why I’m angry. I take a deep breath. “You want anything, Damian?”

  He doesn’t look at me. Just shakes his head, pretending to be busy with his phone. He and Hayden move toward the pinball machines and I feel like a total asshole.

  I don’t know why I got so mad. I’m just weird about my privacy. I like Damian and the last thing I want to do is actively scare him away—not when details of my life will likely do that for me.

  I grab my phone.

  Marrin: Sorry I got mad.

  Marrin: I didn’t answer my door cuz this whole thing freaks me out a bit. I’m trying.

  I set my phone down and go about my work, checking inventory and restocking things. Every now and then I look over at Damian. He and Hayden have moved on from pinball and are engaged in a heated two-player Tetris battle. It’s nearly a half hour later when I look up and see Damian standing at the bar. It’s just us. Elle is talking to Conor at the door.

  “Why does it freak you out?” he asks.

  I work my jaw as if I’m annoyed and not terrified. He wants to have this conversation now? Face to face? I glance at my phone. I could text him…

  Sighing, I push off the back counter and stand across the bar from him. “Full honesty?”

  He nods.

  “This is the closest I’ve come to a real relationship in years. I don’t know how to trust people and I’m not in the habit of trying. But for some reason I can’t figure out...” I cross my arms and hope I don’t regret this. “I find myself wanting to trust you. And I swear to God, if you ever repeat that or bring it up again, I’ll hurt you.”

  He grins. “Apology accepted.”

  I huff, relaxing a bit.

  “Would you believe me if I told you I haven’t been interested in dating anyone until you?”

  “No.”

  He taps the bar with a finger. “It’s true.”

  “Why?” I blurt.

  Hesitation clouds his eyes, like he’s about to confess something serious. But he doesn’t.

  A charming smile masks his face. “I could ask you the same thing.”

  I consider telling him. Considering getting it all out in the open now so he can walk away from me before this goes too far. Before he learns the truth about where I come from and about the kind of woman I really am from someone else. And before I give him the ability to break my heart. Because that’s where this ends. In heartache.

  But the idea is fleeting and gone before it can take root. So I say, “You could, but you won’t.”

  “And why is that?”

  “Because you don’t want to scare me away.” I swallow hard.

  His brows pinch. “That’s an answer I have to earn, isn’t it?”

  I only stare.

  He studies me so long I feel naked. “There’s something between us, Mar. I know you can feel it. I’d like to see where this goes and I think you would, too.” I’m a statue. Staring and listening. “But this will go nowhere if you don’t talk to me. I need you to tell me when I’m pushing too much and not get mad. I don’t know where your boundaries are and I need you to help me find them.”

  “Okay.” The word a shadow of a whisper.

  Damian smiles with every part of his body and I’m powerless to stop the corners of my own mouth from curling. I feel like a damn schoolgirl with a crush. It’s public and embarrassing.

  He taps the counter. “Think I’ll take that beer now.”

  I roll my eyes and pour him a drink.

  “And just so we’re clear,” he says, “this doesn’t make you my girlfriend.”

  He’s mocking me and it does funny things to my insides. He heads back to Hayden and I spend the next few hours trying not to glance over at him every chance I get.

  5

  Damian

  It’s been a week since Mar and I talked at the bar. We haven’t had a chance to hang out in private, but I’ve made every excuse possible to drag my friends to the Braxton Arcade.

  It’s ten o’clock on Friday night and there’s a line out the door. I’m standing with Jayce, Vicky, Tiana and Hayden. It’s mid-October and about forty degrees outside. I’m freezing my ass off and just about to ask Vicky to stop complaining about the temperature when Priya walks out front for a smoke break.

  She’s wearing a black bustier bodysuit with dark jeans and stilettos. She’s pulling on a leather jacket when she looks up and spots me. Her gaze flits to my friends, and I get the impression she knows about Mar and me.

  She points a red nail in my direction. “Damian, right?”

  I smile. “Yeah. You’re Priya?”

  “You remembered.” She winks and lights her cigarette.

  “I never forget a pretty face.”

  A large man watching the door comes over. And when I say large, I mean action hero size. The dude is huge. Like he could go a few rounds with The Rock and win.

  “Everything all right?” He’s looking at me, but talking to Priya.

  She rolls her eyes. “Why are you here again, Kiley? Oh, right, to piss me off.”

  Next to me, Jayce chokes.

  Kiley doesn’t seem to notice. “Someone’s gotta protect the boss’s investment.” He smiles and I’m not sure if he’s talking about the bar or Priya. She takes another drag and blows smoke in his face. “You should stay away from that shit, it’s not good for you.”

  “Funny, I told you the same thing about me, yet here you stand.” She smothers her smoke with a shoe. They stare at each other for a moment too long, then Priya walks away—toward us. “Come on, follow me.”

  We jump out of line and follow her to the door where she gets us past a disgruntled-looking Conor.

  The place is crowded, the bar especially, but I don’t miss the way Priya taps Marrin’s hip and whispers into her ear. Mar’s eyes find mine and we share a brief, secret moment. I can tell she’s fighting to keep a smile off her face, and my inner alpha male practically roars in satisfaction.

  Down, boy.

  Tiana and I get drinks while the others get quarters. We find a spot between two women sitting at the bar and decide I have a better shot of wedging my way through.

  “Excuse me, ladies.” They look up like they want to be annoyed by my intrusion, but when I smile, they fluster and blush. “I’ll only be a second.”

  “Take your time,” one of them says, raking her eyes over me.

  Mar comes over and takes my credit card. “Hey. What do you want?”

  My eyes dip to her outfit. She’s wearing a skintight pair of high-waisted black leather shorts with a long-sleeved top cropped to reveal several inches of midriff. “Nothing I can say in public.”

  Her eyes flare as if to say, Not here, idiot.

  One of the women I’m standing between sighs, disappointed.

  I order drinks for my friends, passing what I can back to Tiana to hold. When Mar hands over the last drink, I say, “When’s your next break?”

  She motions to the crowded bar. “No idea. I haven’t even had time to order dinner.”

  I gather the drinks and follow Tiana. She finds our friends standing by a half-empty table near the middle of the room. We spend the next few minutes looking for arcade games not in use. There aren’t any, so we opt to get in line for a four-player game called Gauntlet.

  While we wait, I whip out my phone and take the opportunity to be a gentleman.

  The Braxton only serves drinks, so they don’t mind if customers bring in outside food. I check the time and text Devon. He work
s at a burger place a few blocks away and he’s planning to meet us when he’s off. I ask if he’ll bring us a sample platter of sliders. Nothing fancy, just beef and veggie burgers with the toppings on the side. He texts back a “yes” and I give him my credit card info.

  Two spots open up for Gauntlet and I’m not sure how long Tiana and I play. Eventually Devon shows up and I let him take my spot. I leave to find the food he brought sitting on our table. It’s separated into three to-go boxes. I mix the items so one box has a little bit of everything.

  “Tell me I can eat some of that,” Vicky says, stopping at the table to drink her beer.

  “Of course.” I turn to leave, a box in hand.

  “Where are you going with that?”

  To lie or tell the truth…

  “It wouldn’t be nice if I didn’t offer all my friends some.”

  Her eyes flick to the bar, her mouth falls open. “Oh my God. Damian. Priya is, like, five years older than you. Not to mention that big scary dude at the door who’s totally into her.”

  I shrug like a cartoon character and walk away without a word. I round the far side of the bar where there aren’t any stools. It’s not as crowded as it was, but Elle, Marrin, and Priya are still hustling.

  Setting the box down on the bar, I wait to catch Marrin’s eye. When she sees me, she holds up a finger letting me know she’ll be over in a second.

  I watch her work.

  She moves like a well-oiled machine. Listening and looking at customers while her hands grab bottles and fill glasses on pure instinct. She crouches to the floor, reaching into the back of the near empty shelf where they keep clean glasses. Her shorts are so tight I’m surprised they don’t split down the middle.

  Marrin’s got a great ass. It’s high, tight, and thick with muscle. Her whole body is kind of like that. She’s built like a dancer. And maybe she is. I’ve seen her dance at clubs and parties before and she’s definitely got rhythm.