The Sinner's Club [18+] Complete

chapter eighteen.

"ARE YOU SURE you're ok?"

Reaper has asked me that no less than six times today.

I sit uncomfortably in the passenger side of his car as we head to the club, trying to hide the fact that my ribs feel like they're literally collapsing in on themselves.

Anthony's attack last night has left me decidedly sore and in a sour mood, but I still haven't told Reaper about it.

"I'm fine," I tell him, shifting subtly and hiding my wince. I hope I don't have a broken rib.

Reaper lets out a frustrated breath. "Amelia, I'm sorry about last night, alright? I just..." He shakes his head, eyes dark. "The less you know about me, the better."

I let my head rest against the window, exhausted. "Whatever."

We are silent the rest of the way to the club.

Nathaniel is speaking to Viktor and Maksim in a booth, a vexed expression on his face.

Great, he's probably going to be in a terrible mood. When he sees me, he stands from the booth and immediately makes his way toward us.

The sharp lines of his face are harsher tonight thanks to his clear annoyance, but he's wearing a beautiful suit; dark navy with a crisp white shirt and gunmetal gray tie.

"Wren, come speak with me for a minute," he says, holding his hand out expectantly for me.

I am pretty keen to hunker down in his office and look over building plans tonight. I'm in too much pain for anything else.

I let his hand settle on the small of my back and he guides me toward the hallway, leaving Reaper behind.

"What's wrong?" I ask, studying Nathaniel's profile.

He sighs as we reach his office and pulls open the door for me, nodding his head to usher me inside.

"There's an...investor I'm trying to close coming into the club tonight. I promised him whatever he wanted and he said he only wanted one thing..." Nathaniel strides across his office, leaning back against his desk. "You."

"Me?" I question, my heart rate picking up.

"Apparently you served him a drink a few weeks ago and he's enthralled." His eyes run up my length. "Understandably."

"Well...tell him to pick someone else," I protest.

"You think I didn't try that? Trust me, I did. He wanted to fuck you—I told him that wasn't happening. But he at least wants you to be our entertainment." Nathaniel runs a weary hand down his face. "I need to close this deal now if I'm going to stay on track with the new franchise." He reaches back to his desk and opens a gift box for me. A lacy white lingerie set with frills is folded neatly inside. "Here. Get changed."

My face blanches and I'm already shaking my head before I speak. "Nathaniel, I can't."

If I put on that set, all anyone's going to see is the myriad of bruises currently spreading out across my side.

His eyes darken. "Don't fight me on this, little bird. I don't like it either, but it is what it is. It won't take long. You come in, strip and then you can leave."

But I am already stepping back. "I'll do it another night. Ask me next week. But I can't right now."

Fuck, I can barely move without wincing, let alone do a sexy strip tease. Maybe I really do have a cracked rib.

His mouth hardens in frustration. "I understand I afford you more liberties than most, but don't forget that you owe me a substantial amount of money. You know the deal you made and this was part of it. Take off your clothes, Wren."