Enthrall: A Found by You Novella Read online

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  ENTHRALL:

  A FOUND BY YOU NOVELLA

  By Victoria H. Smith

  ENTHRALL: A FOUND BY YOU NOVELLA

  Copyright © 2016 by Victoria H. Smith

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, including electronic or mechanical, without written permission from the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to any person, living or dead, any place, events or occurrences, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Published by Victoria H. Smith

  Cover Art by WHAT GEORGIE DID

  Editing by TCB Editing & Judy’s Proofreading

  Layout by Something Simple Ebook Design

  Blurb:

  He’s wicked…

  Diondre Combs. And everything about him tells me that’s true.

  He’s intense, all fire and flame, and that’s only his pace at half speed. A rising athlete, he takes what he wants and is completely unashamed about his needs… no matter how visceral they may be.

  My job as head of security should be easy. It was easy once upon a time. I put out the flames. I kill the speed, but the moment Diondre walks into my club everything changes. That speed becomes increasingly hard to slow down, and that fire, I not only stoke…

  But let it burn.

  “Enthrall: A Found by You Novella” is book 3.5 in the FOUND BY YOU series and is also a part of the Club Prestige Collection. The 30,000-word story is a standalone and is about Griffin Chandler’s good friend and college roommate Diondre Combs. It’s also 18+ for sexual content, graphic language, and general Diondre “D” Combs debauchery.

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  Andie

  The swaying of the hips, and the movement of the bodies always seemed to fascinate me most. Every girl did it differently, tailored individually to the customer she aimed to please. That was our specialty of course, individuality. At Club Prestige we valued our patrons, and they paid us very handsomely to do so.

  That detail set us apart from the rest – the perfectionism. Each girl studied her assigned patron, as did our male dancers. We had female members, too. After all, the men couldn’t have all the fun.

  I nodded at Chloe through the two-way mirror. She knew I was there. Whenever I swept the area, a red light ticked on at the top of the door, signaling to the dancers. I needed to know they were okay and didn’t need anything. That was my job as head of security.

  She fluttered her fingers above her, sporting a nice bit of black lingerie. A wink of her lengthy lashes allowed me to move on, as well as let her patron enjoy his private dance. As I walked away, I saw his head lay onto the back of the lounge chair.

  I pushed my hands into the pockets of my little black dress, one stiletto after the other as I circulated the room. The Onyx Room: a labyrinth of many, and one of my favorites. The room’s set up was two major sections: a male designated area, and female designated area, though some nights intermingling was allowed. Tonight was one of those nights, but for the most part, people had a tendency to keep to their areas. The entire space was surrounded by over a dozen other smaller rooms, and various hallways to guide our guests to each. I enjoyed the privacy of it, the secrecy. Each room held its own, and again, was individualized to whoever paid for a section. Some bought fifteen minutes, others, hours at a time; we even had an overnighter once, which we didn’t usually do here. But if the price was right…

  Another nice feature was the two-way viewings only myself and my team had access to. It helped to do my job more efficiently, and I was all about efficiency.

  Standing, I waited for Gerard to open the private door letting us out into the common area. We had the standard set up there: lounges, drinks, dancing. A person could rent out the entire room for a party, and use the smaller ones for more “intimate” gatherings, usually lap dances, what Chloe was busy doing.

  I blended in. Gerard and Mason, however, looked like security. But we didn’t mind. It helped set a nice tone in the room. The male patrons knew they were there, and that allowed things to flow more easily for both dancers and members alike.

  A member arose from his chair, raising his drink, and cutting me off when I attempted to scoot by. The room’s soft lighting blanketed his face into an ombre, making light-colored eyes darker. He enveloped me, asking me if I wanted to join him in a room.

  I wasn’t surprised by the invitation, of course. That was the point of the little black dress. In the male-only designated sections of Prestige, I resembled just another dancer, and the female sections, I seemed like a member to the Club.

  From across the room, Gerard gestured to Mason, who was just a few tables distance from me.

  I lifted my fingers causally, allowing them to stay unconcerned. There was a reason I was head of security. If I wanted to, I could take down a grown man with a few strategically placed maneuvers. Gerard and Mason both knew that, but they always offered the option of their services.

  They held their ground, and I did what I do best.

  I moved. Swaying hips, and, though not individualized to this man, they seemed no less mesmerizing to him. That told as his arms moved around me, hovering, as I danced in front of him. Sometimes old school just worked, and training never left you.

  Once I was done, I lifted a perfectly polished nail to his cheek, told him maybe next time, and left him standing there amongst the group he was with. His cheeks puffed out, his arms lowered, and his drink seemed to be strategically placed in front of a sizable erection through his pleated pants.

  This girl’s still got it.

  Smiling, I let the boys lead me to sweep our next section. The female-only area never usually had its excitement, but then again, the male area didn’t either. We had a different type of clientele here. Ladies and gentlemen’s clubs tended to be that way.

  We circulated quickly, peeking into occupied rooms through the two-way mirrors, and ignoring the empty ones. Gerard kept the roster. They were all accounted for and filled with the appropriate party. We were about to head back to the male section, but my vision caught an outlier.

  I lowered the roster Gerard had handed to me, spying a suit that didn’t look familiar to me. I squinted at this oversized man with a thick, coarse beard. He stood about ten feet away, hands folded in front of himself as he watched over the area. He also stood directly to the
side of a sub-room with sunglasses on his face, though the area was more than dark.

  I tilted my head back. “He’s not mine.”

  Gerard and Mason panned over to his general direction.

  “He could be security for a patron,” said Mason.

  I narrowed my eyes. We had no rules against that here. If our patrons felt it necessary, we complied, but I was always aware of that fact.

  I wasn’t aware of this.

  I headed over, my team and I easily catching the attention of the guard. He eyed me when I made my way, tilting his head to gaze at me over his sunglasses. I noticed two soft dimples appear in the corner of his dark skin, so I played along. I had to figure out who he was guarding.

  I grazed his lapel; my ruby-red nail contrasting his all black suit. He easily let me move past him.

  That was, until I tried to open the door.

  His hand went out, deterring my next move. Mason and Gerard stiffened.

  I raised my hand.

  “I need by,” I said, touching that lapel again. “Now why are you giving me such a hard time, big boy?”

  The words tasted like putrid vomit in my mouth, but I let them flow.

  The big guy’s gaze left my team; his head lifting let me know that. He lowered his dark shades to me again.

  “You work here?”

  Quirking my red lips to the side, I smiled, pointing my thumb behind me.

  “Why do you think they look like they want to kill you?”

  The man smirked, then nodded, stepping aside to let me in. The boys looked as if they wanted to follow, but the big guy moved closer to me, cutting them off.

  I really don’t need this right now.

  I waved them off, and then made my way in. I knew this particular room to be vacant tonight, so the fact that the big guy in the suit felt so protective over the area had me highly suspicious.

  I made my way, pushing through black chiffon draping that hung from the rafters, and shimmering matching carpet. These elements were supposed to be here for tomorrow’s booking, but the sounds, the moans, shouldn’t be.

  My vision reddened the louder the moans got, even though I, pretty much, knew what I was about to come across, but that didn’t stop me. It was my job to stop shit like this.

  To control shit like this.

  I saw a body first—a naked female thigh. My gaze followed her skin up to brown ass cheeks, again naked, and bouncing on top of a lap. As crazy as it sounded, I recognized it before even seeing her face. She was one of my girls. The unique volcano-red silken hair told me that.

  She was the one moaning. Her naked breasts being fondled by a set of dark hands—large ones that connected to chiseled arms and firm biceps. He wasn’t naked though, this guy. His thick upper half exposed only part way, his white t-shirt lifted slightly, revealing a set of dark abs the tone of a rich and shiny marble.

  His head was back, his mouth open, but not for my girl. No. He had another one who had her tongue down his throat. She was also naked, but I had no idea who she was; her soft pink tits on full display for anyone who wanted to see.

  The guy reached one hand off my girl. Doing so allowed him to fondle both women’s breasts at the same time, and I knew right away who had control of this situation - who instigated this situation.

  A scream sounded the minute I pulled my girl off of this man’s lap. This exposed right away a pretty sizable dick, which made me laugh internally. I would have guessed he wouldn’t be packing. Men who needed two women usually needed to overcompensate for a reason.

  “What the hell—” His eyes, already large, went wide.

  What a damn shame I thought, as I studied a sharp jaw line and full lips. The best looking ones always tended to be the biggest assholes.

  He pushed his glistening dick away, taking only a moment to pull off the condom stretched over his length. He tossed it in the trash beside the lounge.

  “Who are—”

  The door behind us shot open. I swear, that dark skin of his went pale upon seeing Mason and Gerard quickly flanking my sides.

  “Ms. Simmons—!”

  I grabbed my girl’s shirt up off the floor. She already had her underwear back on, and was attempting to get her skirt up. I pushed the shirt into her chest, covering her nakedness.

  “My office—now.” We were going to have a little talk about this—she knew the rules here.

  Chewing her lip, she left the area.

  The guy was pulling his shirt down. My men let him do so before grabbing him by the arms. They got him up on his feet and he towered over them both; and that was saying something, both my men were at least six-three.

  “Hey!” he said, struggling, but at this point resistance would do him no good against two former CIA. His gaze caught mine.

  “What are you—?”

  I stepped up to him and he silenced. Honestly, I had no idea why, but he did. His gaze moved over me, those brown eyes on mine. His nostrils flared a bit, and a breath escaped his lips from his broad chest. I stepped back.

  Once I did, my team moved him past me. I held my hand up, signaling them to wait. I reached down to grab a white envelope I spotted on the floor.

  I slipped it into the man’s shirt pocket, assuming it was his. My eyes narrowed, and this time, I didn’t step away.

  He was watching me; those eyes circulating. That was until I severed his glare, motioning for my boys to take him away. They did so efficiently.

  “Please make sure he and his friend never enter my club again,” I said. I trusted that my guys took the initiative to have his security restrained behind me, and I realized I didn’t care who that man was to have such a guard. He broke the rules. He broke the rules, so he was out.

  As they left the area, I was left with the guy’s other partner. She had her clothes on by now, and watched me as I stepped up to her.

  I put my hands behind my back.

  “What party are you here with?” I asked, my stare unfaltering.

  She swallowed. “The Emerson Party.”

  I knew it well. Again, I memorized every event.

  I nodded.

  “Please inform Ms. Emerson her membership has been revoked for a month as consequence, and that her current event is now over for the evening.”

  I left her there, her jaw slacked, and I reached for the door.

  “But it’s her bachelorette party,” she pleaded, her voice so small behind me. She seemed very upset, but I simply kept on.

  I had rounds to do.

  D

  “You did what?”

  My boy Griffin’s tone cut like a knife. They said I did something wrong. They said I fucked something up. We had planned for weeks—hell, months. I knew I couldn’t easily come back from this.

  What else was new?

  Letting out a breath, I fell back on to the lounge in my hotel room. I hadn’t even bothered to fly back home to Chicago yet. I guess I’d been in too much shock from what went down.

  Being thrown out of an upscale club will do that to a guy.

  I push my hand over my head, my fingers grazing the buzz of my bald fade haircut. I leaned forward, phone in hand.

  “I kinda, sorta lost the venue.”

  He was silent for too long. Maybe even longer than when I originally called and blurted out the news.

  But then he chimed in.

  “So when you say you lost the venue…”

  That lazy drawl of his took a second. I usually made fun of him for it. My favorite was telling him that he sounded like a missing Beverly Hillbilly—especially when he was around his family back in Texas. Giving him a hard time about his accent was easy, and I guess just came with the territory of the whole “best friend thing.”

  I wouldn’t dare do that shit right now.

  I started again before he could finish.

  “I mean, we don’t have it anymore—”

  “Why?”

  I swallowed.

  “Well, we’ve been… banned. In a sense.” At lea
st, that’s what I assumed when I was thrown out. They told me not to come back and I figured that was pretty much a given. I guess the real person I had to answer to was Griffin’s teammate, Taylor. He held the actual membership at Club Prestige, and got Griff access as a guest for us to plan an event there.

  I had to answer to one person at a time at this point.

  “D…”

  “I went there like you said,” I hurried, patting the air with my hand as if he was here to calm.

  “I went to pay the deposit and check out the space.”

  “So how did… that turn into you losing the venue?”

  He rushed those last few words like a simmering pot of water ready to bubble over.

  So I rushed, too.

  “Uh, so what went down was…” Obviously I’m not too good at rushing.

  I swallowed again.

  “I got a little into the place, and it’s a nice place, Griff. Real good for a party—”

  “D.”

  I breathed.

  “I ran into this chick.”

  Well, two, but he didn’t need to know that.

  “And she…erm, she kind of worked there. We went into one of the rooms and things kind of got a little out of hand. Anyway, security caught us, and I don’t think they like that. They must have had a ‘no touching’ policy or something.”

  Like most clubs did, I supposed, especially one of that caliber.

  Damn.

  “What the actual fuck, Diondre!”

  I pulled a breath through my teeth, actually feeling the cut of those words. But then another voice came in, a softer one, a nicer one in the distance.

  “Griffin…” she said, and I knew it was his fiancée, or I guess now his wife, Roxie.