C60 Perfect Offer

The bass of the music thudded through Tad’s chest, vibrating against his ribcage as he leaned back in his chair and watched the women on the stage.

The club, dimly lit with pulsating neon lights, smelled of sweat, cheap perfume, and the faint tang of spilt alcohol.

Ophelia’s Lounge was unlike anything in Stoneraine, a suburb where the closest thing to the excitement was the Friday night pub scene and nosy neighbours who peeked through curtains at every passing car. Acadia, though?

Acadia was alive, pulsing with life and vice.

The women on stage, clad in shreds of sparkling fabric that barely covered their curves, moved with practised precision.

A brunette with long, shiny curls cascading down her back arched her body, running her hands down her sides as she twirled around the pole.

Tad felt himself harden as his eyes locked on her.

“What I could do to that piece of ass,” he muttered under his breath, licking his lips.

Acadia was where he belonged.

Not back in that sleepy, judgmental dump of Stoneraine.

He thought about how he’d ended up there, his lips curling into a sneer.

He’d been running low on options back then, lying low after the disaster he’d left behind in Rio.

Then he’d found Stoneraine and Mauve.

She had been so pathetically easy to manipulate.

A vulnerable, desperate woman eager for any crumb of affection.

Tad had worked her over with compliments and sympathies, convincing her they were meant to be.

It hadn’t taken long for him to settle into her life and start skimming from her measly cleaning wages.

The hag had a free roof over her head and that counted for something.

At first, the thought of her brats was a problem for him.

Then he’d seen her. Annabelle.

At sixteen, she’d been scrawny and quiet, but her wide green eyes and long legs had caught his attention immediately.

She had something fiery buried beneath her shy demeanour, and Tad had known she was meant for him.

He’d stayed in that godforsaken town for her, enduring Mauve’s whimpering and the neighbours’ scorn.

And now Annabelle thought she could just run?

Thought she could leave him behind like trash after the years he had wasted for her?

“No fucking way.”

He picked up his bourbon, the smooth burn of the liquor sliding down his throat.

His thoughts turned darker, more possessive.

Annabelle belonged to him. She’d always belonged to him.

And after tonight, she’d know it.

Tad’s eyes scanned the club, his impatience growing.

The person he was supposed to meet hadn’t shown up yet, and he was starting to feel restless.

He still had no idea why the man knew his favourite drink. And he didn't appreciate the thought that the man must have investigated him.

But the free drink helped to reduce his restlessness a bit.

The club was packed with bodies.

Men mostly, but there were a few women scattered among them.

Tad’s lip curled as he spotted a group of them watching the dancers.

He wrinkled his nose in distaste.

“What the hell is a woman doing here?” he thought.

Even though the goddamned club had a woman's name, it was a gentleman’s club after all.

He turned his attention back to the stage, letting his imagination take over.

The brunette’s sultry movements faded, and in her place, he saw Annabelle.

His Annabelle, dancing just for him.

He imagined her slim hips swaying, her emerald-green eyes locking onto his as she dropped to her knees.

Heat surged through his veins, and he barely noticed the growl rumbling in his throat as his hand went towards his crotch.

“Tad?” a cheery voice interrupted his fantasy.

He jerked, snapping back to reality as a hand clamped down on his shoulder. Instinctively, he swung his arm, but it was caught mid-motion.

Pain shot through his poorly healed wrist as the man twisted it sharply, forcing Tad to cry out.

“Calm now?” the man asked, his tone infuriatingly pleasant.

Tad glared up at him, his anger flaring.

The man released his grip and stepped in front of him, his pale grey eyes gleaming in the neon light.

The man didn’t look particularly imposing.

He was lean, with slicked-back hair and a suit that was just a touch too formal for the setting.

And he had a fucking baby-smooth face.

But there was a dangerous confidence in his demeanour that put Tad on edge.

“Enjoying the show?” the man asked, his gaze flicking to the stage.

Tad gritted his teeth. “You’re late.”

The man smirked, ignoring Tad’s irritation. “Annabelle,” he said, his tone casual. “Twenty. Green eyes. Chestnut hair almost like that bitch you were drooling over? The man said as he jerked his thumb towards the dance floor. “Banging body and all. Ring any bells?”

Tad’s heart leapt at the mention of her name, but he forced himself to appear disinterested. “What’s it to you?”

The man shrugged. “Cut the crap, Tad. You are here because I can help you find her.”

Suspicion crept into Tad’s mind. “Why? What is in it for you?”

The man’s smirk widened. “I believe in friendship. And as friends, if I ever need a favour, I trust you won’t say no.”

Tad didn’t like the sound of that, but he couldn’t pass up the opportunity. He gave a curt nod. “Fine.”

“Great, the man said, “Let’s exchange numbers. You need help with anything, you call right away,”

After they swapped information, the man turned his attention to the stage, his eyes scanning the dancers. “I see why you were so engrossed earlier,” he said, a teasing lilt in his voice.

Tad bristled and decided to put an end to whatever game this man wanted to okay, “I am here for information about Annabelle. Where is she?”

The man tutted and shook his head as he said, “Don't be so boring, Tad. We can talk about that later. That bitch ain't going anywhere. But you, my friend,” he tilted his head towards the stage as he continued “You deserve a little pampering after all this waiting. To make up for being late, I’ve got the perfect offer for you.”

Tad frowned. “What offer?”

“Pick one,” the man said, motioning to the stage. “Any of the ladies. She’s yours for the night.”

Tad's blood heated with anticipation but he hesitated.

“They’re open to everything,” the man added with a conspiratorial whisper. “No limits. Your every need met.”

Tad’s breath hitched. “Anything?”

“Anything and everything,” the man confirmed. “And you won’t spend a dime. It’s all on me.”

Tad turned his gaze back to the stage, his mind racing. As the dancers twirled and swayed, his lips curled into a dark smile.

He knew just the perfect one.