The Duke's Sins | ongoing

To Be Hunted

8~to be hunted

Dim violet lights flashed around the club, illuminating the poles arranged on the platform. Sensual music vibrated through the speakers at a slow pace, the lyrics sending a chill up my spine.

There were many languages I was familiar with; I almost wished I'd had no understanding of the Dutch booming in the club. The desire filled lyrics sent a blush racing up my cheeks.

The few lights flickered shut, leaving a spinster of red and purple lights flashing around in the dark. Strutting out of a corner curtained in shadows, the women's hips swerved as they grasped the pole.

I felt so out of place--they giggled, a genuine smile forming on their lips as they spotted me.

I looked away.

"Hallo," one of them called, '"de club is nog neit open. Wil je reservern?"

I smiled nervously. "Nee, bedankt. Ik wacht op de manager."

She smirked, her hands swinging by her side as she neared me.

"I am the manager." Her constants came out sharp beneath her accent. "You're English, no?"

"Ja. I mean, yes."

She laughed, placing a light hand on my shoulder. "I hear it in your voice. What can we do for you?"

I blinked at the suggestive raise of her brows. "No, I'm actually here to ask for someone else. About someone else," I corrected.

"Boyfriend? Or husband?"

I opened my mouth before clasping my lips shut. Holding my breath, I grit between my teeth, "Boyfriend."

She gave me a sympathetic smile and ushered me behind her, mumbling something about unfaithful men beneath her breath.

My cheeks seemed to get redder by the second.

"Give me his name."

I let my breaths rush out of me. "Jaxon Russel."

She typed away on the computer, her perfectly manicured nails clicking against the keys. "We don't have anyone by that name, Lieve."

My fists curled up by my side; I smiled sweetly at her, feigning sadness before I turned around.

The call rang a few time as I tapped my feet against the floor impatiently.

"Dave, that pain in my arse hasn't used his real name!" I muttered, annoyed.

There was silence on the other end, his shock coming out in laughter as he gasped for air.

"Pain in your arse?" He wheezed, "I beg of you, never say that to his face."

"Your Duke," I seethed, "is signing away his death certificate at my hands. Twelve men are waiting in London that will have my head for dinner if I don't find him."

"Listen--"

I spoke over him, "No, you listen. If he pulls anything, I'll have his head before anyone can do anything to me--"

"Okay, okay," he sighed. "Hang on a minute, I'll find out for you."

I pressed a hand to my forehead, turning to find the manager looking at me sadly. I turned back around, cursing my luck and then the Duke.

Suddenly, Dave's laughter on the other side of the call loudened.

"What? What is it?"

"I found," he gasped for air, "the name he's reserved under."