Devil Woman

Chapter 6

Ivan

I really didn't want to be here, and if I'm being honest, I don't even remember consenting to this event. Shaun was a Detective that I used to work alongside and was getting married in a few days. He was also having his bachelor party at a strip club owned by none other than the woman I'd had my eyes set on for the past few weeks.

It's not like I didn't stalk her clubs, hotels, and other places that she owned, but I did it discretely. I was the one sitting in the far back, taking notes and observing. I didn't need to be a part of some rowdy disturbance screaming and throwing money at half-naked women.

It wasn't my type of scene. It's not that I looked down on strippers or escorts because I didn't. I didn't care what you did, but everyone had preferences. If I could be anywhere else right now, I would.

I would be far away from the four exotic dancers in probably the sexiest lingerie that was swaying and giggling as they danced for the men sitting. We were about nine men, and we took up the entire room with our size and builds.

The four girls didn't mind the crowdedness and worked it into their routine as they tilted their hips to the beat of the music. Their routine wasn't sensual but more on the sexy side. The music was loud and pulsing, and the lights flashing to different colors were enough to make me go blind.

I didn't understand the prospect of a strip club before getting married. Doesn't that count as cheating? To each his own, I guess. The future groom had the blondie pressed against his groin as she danced on top of him, rolling her hips while he laughed and shoved bills in her panties and bra.

Cringing, I stepped outside and walked toward the bar.

"Beer."

The drinks here were overpriced, but I needed something to make this whole experience tolerable. The bar was overcrowded, the club was packed, and all the men and even some women were having the time of their life as they watched the girls on the stage.

The girls that weren't dancing worked as servers and baristas, as they walked around with trays in their hands. Yes, they all wore lingerie, and I knew it was the line their boss was working to promote.

Ignoring the heavy thumping of the music, I sipped on my beer as I sauntered around. Either Nyra knew I was after her or she didn't frequent her clubs as much as I thought she did.

I only caught one glimpse of her at a hotel I stopped at, hoping I'd accidentally bump into her. I did. The photos didn't do her justice. I knew she was beautiful, but you really never know how beautiful someone truly is until you see them in real life.

Her hair was dark as onyx, and it cascaded down her back in such sophistication. Her lips were heart-shaped and full and were a light red color. Her face was molded with the softest of feathers because no man could ever deny such beauty.

It wasn't even her body or her face that had me looking; it was her eyes. They were daring, challenging, and warm, like a cup of hot cocoa on a cold and wintery day. Besides her elegant and calm beauty, she had a real mouth on her.

I wasn't lying when I told her that was the hottest thing a woman had ever said to me. It really was. Her beauty put aside, the woman was more protected and secure than the fucking President of the United States.

"Twenty-two," She said, and I slowly lifted my chin to gauge her face. "Saving you the struggle of counting how many men in this room are under my command."

It was evident that her men were there to protect her, to guard her, and how they moved all in sync as if they were choreographed let me know they were ex-military. It was impressive, but anyone that needed that much protection ran a dirty and bloody life. This woman had blood on her hands, and she obviously knew she could be a target for some people.