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“Maybe next time,” Amara chirped, bringing my attention back to her just in time to find her doing the whole flicking eye thing again.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
“Huh? Yeah. Totally. What are you doing here anyway?” she asked.
The casual question struck a nerve. “Other than the fact that my husband owns it,” I snapped. “I’m just grabbing a drink before I visit him in his office.” And maybe I could convince him to take a break and come play since I was already here, I added silently.
“Well, maybe you should head up now instead of waiting,” she suggested with a tight smile.
Had Daniel told his employees that they should get rid of me if I showed up unannounced? I didn’t think it was something he would do, but it was the only thing that made sense. Amara and I got along and even had lunch together outside of Voyeur. What other reason would she have for shoving me out?
“I think I’ll enjoy my drink,” I countered, adjusting in my seat as if I were settling in for the entire night.
“Oh…Okay.” Her smile dropped, and she looked over my shoulder again. What the hell was going on?
Irritation, on top of irritation, had my mind scrambling and rationale flying out the window. Which was the only reason I could explain why the next thought hit me like a bat to the stomach, knocking the wind from my lungs.
Was…was Kent doing something he shouldn’t?
Oh, god.
My heart sank to the pits of my stomach, rotting right along the soured alcohol. I forced my body to turn despite everything inside me screaming not to, and I wish I hadn’t. I’d been terrified of finding Kent in a promiscuous situation that it took more than a moment for the sight I found to arrange into an image my mind could process.
In the lounge area near the back of the club, a dark-haired woman laid back on a table with her heels resting on the edge, leaving her legs splayed wide to make room for the blond head between them. She looked down with her jaw dropped in pleasure, watching whatever the man was doing. I tried hard not to think about it.
My face screwed up just in time for Hanna to look up, her eyes colliding with mine. They shot wide, and the horrifying flash of a second stretched on for endless minutes.
Oh my god. My eyes. My eyes.
Everything screamed to look away, but my muscles froze in terror.
In a futile attempt to make it less horrible, I forced my face into a smile, offering a jerky thumbs up.
Yeah, so much fucking better.
I liked Hanna. She was my friend, and I loved encouraging her to be a sex goddess, but it was one thing to blindly cheer on a friend and another to be supportive while you actively watched her go at it with your uncle.
She slapped Daniel’s head and tried to push him away while simultaneously closing her legs. Breaking out of my stupor, I put my stupid thumb down and turned away before Daniel pulled back to completely expose Hanna.
Amara watched me with an apologetic grimace that probably matched the smile I tried to give Hanna. I shook my head, tossed the straw out of my drink, and emptied the remaining contents of my glass. If I thought I had time to order another, I would, but—even over the music—I heard Uncle Daniel stomping over.
“What the hell are you doing here, Olivia?” he growled.
I loved my dad and had a great relationship with him, but somewhere along the way, I bonded more closely with Uncle Daniel. He saw me in ways other people hadn’t, giving me the space and understanding to grow into the woman I was, which made his disapproval all the harder to hear.
Unfortunately for him, the woman he encouraged me to grow into was stubborn and didn’t like being reprimanded. I bristled under his tone, using it to fortify an aloof reaction that was nowhere near existing. With a deep breath and a neutral face, I turned, addressing Hanna as if Daniel wasn’t even there. “Hey, Hanna.”
She smiled a well-isn’t-this-fucked-up commiserating smile. “Hey, Olivia.”
“Olivia,” Daniel growled again. Apparently, he didn’t like me not answering his question.
Taking my time, I cocked my brow and met his icy blue gaze, so much like my own. “I’m just having a drink, Uncle D.”
“You could get that at Voy or any other bar in town,” he bit out, referring to the normal-not-sex-club bar he and Kent also owned.
“This was closer.”
Daniel’s cheeks turned red, but I doubted it had anything to do with embarrassment. “You need to leave.”
He dismissed me as if I was a little girl rather than a grown woman well into her twenties. Irritation prickled along my spine, and on cue, once one emotion slipped free, the raging storm of others followed. The same pressure from earlier that urged me to Voyeur in the first place banded around my chest.