Loving A Stripper (Editing)

chapter 35🐺

Kunle

Pulling my tie loose, I strolled into the sitting room where Cassandra sat glued to the tv screen with a glass of wine in her hands. She was the last person I wanted seeing, the last person I needed after a stress board meeting.

"Welcome handsome," She said flirtatiously as I walked past the room.

Already getting used to her obvious pool of interest and the flirty things she did that had no impact on me, I continued my walk. "Good evening Cassie."

"How was work?"

"Fine and your day?" I stopped before the staircase.

"Boring, actually I missed you."

"Have you seen Grace?"

"She left with her friend hours back," She said and turned back to the television set.

"To where?"

"Don't ask me, I don't know."

Grace was not allowed to leave the house unless it was for her medical checkup and she knew this. She knew the effect put in place for her security but still went against it. This had me heated with annoyance and fear as I rushed up the stairs while dialling her line. 

"Fuck," I snapped, throwing my briefcase on my bed and dialling Monica a third time. Neither was picking and it had me more vexed and confused on what to do next.

Folding my sleeve, I dashed out of my room. This time, I called Chris, dreading the reaction of Patrick who placed her safety in my palms.

"My Guy," Chris said, picking his call after the second ring.

"Can you meet me in an address I will send to you?"

"What happened?"

"Grace is not home, she left with Monica."

The sound of his laughter had me regretting my act of asking for his help. I can't seem to believe how he found humour in a completely serious issue.  "Those girls are strong-headed. I love them."

"Stop loving them and meet me there Chris."

"Yes sir."

I ended the call, slide the phone into my pocket and walked out of the house not bothering to spare Cassandra a gaze.

***
After racing to Monica's apartment which was locked, we took to our last option.

The club.

We walked into the club just as the stage light beside the bar dimmed, an obvious indication of a performance. And behold, the slander familiar figure of Grace cat-walk to the stage with her mask on.

I was eased by the fact she was safe but was mad and tensed as whistle and screams filled the club. All from excited young and old men and women, probably with partners waiting patiently for them at home.

I was jealous and it was driving me mad.

She moved to the beat of the song which name I didn't care to know. All I wanted doing was drag her off the stage, wrap her with a coat and pull her into my car.

"Have you seen Grace? I mean how can we find her in the crowd?" Chris inquired, his eyes searching the crowd.

"She is on stage," I said deeply irritated as she crawled around the stage.

"Stop that joke."

"Do I look like I'm joking?" I turned to him. My pressed lips were enough to show how serious I was and how hurt I felt.