What the fuck was Dad thinking? He needed to see him so he could close off his fucking throat for doing that to her.
Amo shrugged. “I’ll break her if you don’t—”
“Lake is fucking mine! Touch her, and I’ll break my bat over your dick.”
“Well, the first step is admitting you want her,” Nero told him.
That was the first time he had admitted out loud that he wanted her. Hell, it was the first time he’d even admitted it to himself. He didn’t see Lake as his sister’s best friend anymore.
She had changed drastically over just a few days, and it killed something inside of him to see her like this. Except for the outfit. The moment he had laid his eyes on her, all sexed up, his dick had gone as hard as fuck. And at that very moment, she was out there with every man looking her way, thinking the dirty thoughts he was. He only wanted her in sexy lingerie when she was locked in his bedroom, not in a casino full of horny, old, rich men. God help them if one of them lays a finger on her.
Vincent squeezed the bridge of his nose, coming to a decision. “Call Lucca and tell him we’re working a double shift and to give the night off to three lucky fuckers.”
Amo shook his head. “Fuck no, I’m not working double.”
“Yeah, Elle’s wait—”
“Yes, you two are. I need you to keep me from killing these shits tonight because if one of them touches her, I’m going to fuck them all up.”
“I can stay.” Amo looked all too eager to bust some heads.
“I’ll call Lucca now.” Nero pulled out his phone.
“Tell Lucca I said he’s a sick fucking bastard for this.” Fucking Lucca had this planned. “And if he could put us down to work when she does till I get her out of this mess, that would be great. But call him an asshole when you do.”
Fuck thanking Lucca and God anymore.
Dear Mafia Father, fuck you.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
I Know You Smell It, Playboy. It’s Lake’s Virginity.
Lake tried not to keep looking over her shoulder at Vincent every five minutes, but she had never seen him like that before. His eyes never wavered from her, not even once, and his intensity frightened her. He was looking at her on a completely different level from what all the other men were.
The men she served had a face of lust, which used to scare her up until that point. Vincent looked at her like he owned her. In his eyes, she was his property whether she wanted to be or not. There was sexual hunger there like the other men, but while they would be satiated with one taste, Vincent wanted her as his slave.
Lake felt like she had been owned her entire life with school, Ashley, John, and finally Dante. She wasn’t going to be owned by anyone else. Especially not him.
Once she set a shot down in front of a customer, he downed the contents then handed her the first tip of the night.
Shit. Lake swallowed hard as she took the bill from his hands. She forced a smile at the eagerly waiting man who wanted a show.
Hurriedly, she shimmied her breasts then put the bill down her corset. Her eyes lifted to the back wall and saw Vincent being held back by Nero and Amo.
“Thank you,” she said before turning on her heels and practically running. She went straight to the back bar, trying to calm her nerves.
Her life depended on the job, and Vincent was going to ruin it. That little bit of nothing shimmy was short and rushed compared to how she usually did it. All those men returned, and if they didn’t feel like they got what they deserved, they wouldn’t tip her again. They would simply give it to another girl who was willing to show off. The tips were going to get her out faster.
Fuck him. Next time, I’m doing it right.
The next few hours went by and every time someone handed her a tip, she was determined to give a show right up until she actually took it out of their hands. Then she would think, Shit, I can’t do it!
It was to the point that her little shimmy was pathetic. The first few times, she would look to see if Vincent was going to murder the customer, seeing his friends were still holding him back. Therefore, she kept dumbing it down until it looked like it was tolerable for him. Sure, she saw the psycho killer wanting to murder everyone in his path, but at least he didn’t need assistance anymore. Why it mattered to her that it was bearable for Vincent, she had no fucking clue.
While she was waiting for her drinks to be made, she noticed Sadie going to the little stage and setting a chair in the middle. What is she doing? She had never seen her do that before.
Sadie came over the microphone. “We got a birthday boy on our hands tonight, girls. Come on up, Alan.” She did a sexy ‘come here’ signal to an older gentleman by the stage.