“You’re hardly banned from events,” Daniel managed calmly, despite the muscle twitching along his jaw.
“Just the good ones, right?”
Daniel’s eyes narrowed, and his mouth quirked up. “Are you saying my club isn’t good every day?” he asked lightly.
Fuck. Here came the calm before the storm.
Olivia matched his fake smile with one of her own. “I wouldn’t know because I barely get to go.”
Daniel’s smirk twitched. I could almost see the cord snapping on his patience.
Olivia’s strong, stubborn will flared under her tense muscles. I usually loved watching her stick her nose in the air and pull her shoulders back like a queen ready to rage. Hell, it was those same feisty traits that turned me on the most. I loved her fire because it was all the sweeter when she tempered her flames just for me.
However, there was no tempering anything right then. Even still, I had to try because she didn’t know the full arsenal of her enemy. “Olivia,” I started.
“Don’t Olivia me,” she snapped. “It’s not fair that I not only miss out but also have to listen to everyone talk about how amazing it was. I fucking hate it.”
“It’s not like you don’t get to go plenty of nights,” Daniel growled. His palm slapped the table, making the dishes rattle. “Dammit, Olivia.”
Now, my muscles pulled tight at the show of aggression toward my wife. The argument was spiraling, and I could feel the momentum sucking me in. With a deep breath, I bit down on my control, knowing that adding anyone else’s irritation would lead to an implosion.
“This is a ridiculous conversation. I’m your uncle. I shouldn’t be arguing with you about getting enough time to fuck around in public.”
“Then don’t start a sex club with my husband.”
Everyone at the table tensed because we all knew how much Daniel hated when people called Voyeur a sex club. Just like he claimed, when Olivia snapped, she managed to hit his buttons, pushing him closer to the edge of his control.
“It’s not a fucking sex club, and you couldn’t even walk when we started this business,” he bit between clenched teeth.
“No,” Olivia cut in. “Just a place where Carina gets to explore her fantasies, and Erik and Alex can go almost every week. Hell, Oaklyn and Jackson used to work there and get free passes. My husband is the owner, and I still have to ask for permission like a child.”
“Jesus,” I breathed. They volleyed back and forth almost too quick for me to keep up, let alone find a way in to stop it. “Can we just take a—”
“Because God forbid, I show up on a night Uncle D has decided to eat his wife out on a table for everyone to watch.”
The group had been watching the argument mostly with varying levels of amusement until then. At Olivia’s statement, their jaws dropped. Except for Daniel’s, who looked ready to blow.
“What the fuck did you do to my sister?” Erik asked.
As if his reaction kickstarted everyone else’s, an explosion of noise erupted around the table.
“No, no, no, no, no, no,” Ian sang, covering his ears. “Don’t want to hear that. Hanna’s pretty much my sister. Nope.”
“You go, girl,” Alex muttered, elbowing a blushing Hanna.
“Damn.” Carina winked. “I may have to steal that one.”
“No. It’s not—I mean—” Hanna tried to form words.
“Actually, no.” Erik held his hand up. “I don’t want to know. Ignorance is bliss; I don’t need to know what goes on when I’m not there. Hard pass.”
“See, they work it out,” Daniel chimed it.
“Yeah, because they don’t work there. I can’t even fucking sneak in the back and enjoy a performance. No, I have to have my husband as my chaperone. Which is a joke because he’s gone all the time, leaving me with nothing. No excitement. No live porn. No charity event. Nothing.”
Like bullets from a gun, each claim hammered into me.
I pulled my hand back from Olivia’s leg to rub at my chest. I wasn’t even part of the argument, yet she landed a direct hit. Shrapnel lodged between the cracks in my armor, exposing the doubts I kept trying to ignore.
“That’s not my problem,” Daniel dodged.
“Well, he’s your best friend. Shouldn’t we ask him what he wants?”
“Don’t,” I pleaded softly, but she was too far gone to hear me.
As if the wounds weren’t enough, she went in for the kill shot. She broke her promise.
“Let’s ask him,” she declared before facing me, dragging me between them—using me to fight my best friend. “Kent, wouldn’t you like to take me to Voyeur whenever you wanted because it’s your business.”
As soon as I met her fiery gaze with my defeated one, she knew. She knew she’d gone too far. It was like she’d been so lost in her anger that she hadn’t even stopped to remember everyone around her.