CHAPTER FOUR

HAYDEN

It took everything in me not to go over to Stacy’s table and beat the shit out of him. I sat Sunday night in this very booth watching Lydia dance for both men and women. My focus was on her. I understand this is her profession and I can’t stop her from stripping. The line was crossed when Stacy handled her inappropriately.

Last night, I had my cousin hack into the Ritz Carlton hotel database and Stacy’s itinerary. Sebastian found out Stacy’s room number. We took it a step further. Sebastian checked me into the hotel. This morning, he programmed my room key to open Stacy’s room door. Sebastian scanned the security system and text me at 9 a.m.

You can enter the room. He is alone.

Thanks Sebastian.

I wore the same sunglasses and baseball cap I have on now when I arrived. I was dressed in a dark t-shirt, jeans, black boots, and leather gloves. Peeking around the dark corner once in the hotel room, I noticed he was sleep. The curtains throughout the room were closed. Grabbing the ice bucket, I splashed cold water in his face.

Frantically, he sat straight up. “What the fuck!”

“What the fuck is right! You piece of shit.” Right hook then a left, I pounded his face. He slept nude, so I only had his medium length blonde hair to hold onto while I beat his fucking face in.

“You fucked with the wrong stripper. You disrespected my girl last night. You motherfucker!” I continued wailing on his face.

“It doesn’t matter if she was or wasn’t my girl, you don’t defile a woman!”

He tried pushing me away. “I’m sorry! I promise it won’t happen again!”

I stood back. “You’re right. You won’t do it again. Don’t go back to that strip club.” I held his hair within my tight grip, leering into his bruised eyes. “Do you fucking understand?”

He placed his hands up. “I got it.”

“You, breath a word of this to anyone, next time I will come to your home and beat your ass. Think I’m joking?” I flashed my Glock on my hip.

“You decide!”

He cradled his face. “I got it man.”

His face was badly beaten. He won’t be able to make his photo shoot today.

Once in the hall, I slipped into the stair well, down the steps, then out the front door of the hotel. Sebastian told me to make sure I parked around the corner or hopped on public transportation. Climbing into my Ferrari, I calmly drove out of the parking space merging into traffic. I ran home, showered, then carried myself into the office, freshly shaven, wearing a custom gray three-piece suit.

Later that afternoon, I scrolled through Rags gossip column. Stacy told the media he got into a bar brawl. I chuckled. He knew what was good for him.

My nose slid back and forth against Lydia’s arm. “You smell good.”

Her gaze still disconcerting.

I peeled off my sunglasses, resting them inside my inner jacket pocket.

“How was your day?”

She scratched her head. “It was fine. Hayden, you know I can’t sit here. I have to dance.” She scanned the room, then her eyes fell back on me.

Her eyes began to soften, then an angry scowl took her face. “Hayden, I can’t be bought. Throwing money around doesn’t get you an instant date,” she scoffed.

Lydia began to rise. I pulled her back down into my lap.

My eyebrows wrinkled, angrily. “What’s done is done. So, what if I paid your boss a little extra so you can sit here. Now, take a load off. I’m not here to disrespect you, nor buy a date. Do you think I need to do that?”

She smacked her lips, turning her eyes toward the stage.

Snatching her chin, I forced her eyes to meet mine. “Answer me.”

“No. But I’m not your fucking charity case or latest conquest.” She tried ripping her face away.

My lips crashed into hers. A burning sensation shocked my body, unlike anything I’ve ever felt. Lydia grabbed the front of my leather jacket deepening our kiss. My hands caressed her waist. This time I didn’t release her lips, I couldn’t. I’ve been waiting to taste her lips again since Saturday night.

Lydia pushed back from me. Her hand flew over her mouth. She appeared dazed and confused.

“Lydia, I’m not here to force you to date me. I know deep down you want to. That kiss just confirmed what I already know, you want more. It’s alright. So, do I.”

The second I sunk into my seat she stood, “I’m a stripper.”

She paused, running her hand across her collar bone. “I’m not looking for anything serious. Please, let your stripper fantasy end here.”

She strutted toward a table straight ahead, then began dancing. I slammed the vodka down my throat, placing the empty shot glass on the table next to me. Her walking off only made me want her more. I won’t rest until she’s mine. I watched her dance for others around the club. Once she disappeared into the dressing room, I vacated the club. Sitting in the back of my chauffeured Silver Bentley, I watched from across the street as she hopped into her car.

“Follow her. Don’t follow too close. I want to make sure she makes it home safe.”

“Of course, Mr. Gaster.”

Grabbing the bottle of vodka, I poured myself another drink. Rationality went out the window. I wanted this woman to be mine. I couldn’t find it in myself to leave her alone. The pent-up aggression in our kiss told me she wanted more now. Her hungry tongue danced with mine perfectly. When she pulled back licking her lips. My dick was hard as a rock. I wanted to take her home and fuck her good. I never want or desire women. I don’t have to. Women come too easy. I’ll be honest, I thought I’d at least have her phone number by now. Why was she fighting me? Shit, maybe my approach is all wrong. Tomorrow night, I won’t request Lydia to come over to my table at all.

Sitting across the street from her apartment, I watched her unlock the door then disappear inside.

“It’s been a long day. Home please.”

“Yes sir.”

∞

I awoke just before the U.S. stock market opened. After talking to a few clients that morning, I returned to bed, sleeping until 3 p.m.

Sitting in my art studio, I worked on my latest creation Lydia. I painted for three hours. I ate dinner alone, while studying stock trends.

Bryce has called me every day. I’ve been avoiding his calls.

His latest text read:

You’re fucking crazy bro!

Bryce recognized I was into Lydia. I didn’t want him to try and talk me out of seeing her.

I stood in the mirror giving myself the once over. My black hair was slicked back, the custom navy suit fit perfect. I placed two Cuban cigars into my inside pocket, then removed twenty thousand from the safe. I slipped the rose-colored sunglasses over my eyes before leaving the house.