Diego had been more than accommodating when it came to helping us both out. I went back to assisting Diego at his club, like I had before I left to try to save my relationship with Jett, what little help that was. The rooms were almost fully painted and my work was really coming together nicely with the overall theme. Diego was pleased, and that was all that mattered to me.

I’ve kept to myself most of the time, because frankly, I didn’t want the boys to see me cry over a guy who I wasn’t sure ever really truly cared about me. It was embarrassing. But Diego only let my personal exile last a couple of days; he didn’t feel that wallowing in self-pity was a productive way to conduct my days, so that’s why I currently found myself almost twisted off my ass, teaching Blane and Diego how to pole dance.

“Back off, Blane,” Diego said, while pushing him away. “If Goldie is going to bone anyone here, it’s going to be me. We have history,” Diego winked at me.

“There is no way she would fuck you,” Blane laughed. “Not with that prissy dancing you do around stage.”

“Prissy?” Diego asked while standing tall.

Prissy was the last word I would use to describe Diego. For Cirque du Diable, Diego was the ringmaster, the man who sat center stage, directing all the acts that were conducted. He was the grand MC with a body that would make your lady folds weep, eyes that would have you orgasming on the spot, and a kind of control that would have you dropping to your knees, asking him what he wanted.

Blane gestured toward Diego and said, “Yeah, you’re prissy.”

“Watch it, bro, your livelihood is being held on by a thread right now, and I can fucking snip it so fast,” Diego said with a grin.

Nodding, Blane said, “Aw, I see. So you’re going to hold the fact that you gave me a job, a fucking awesome job, by the way, and a place to stay over my head?”

“Pretty much,” Diego laughed.

“As long as I know up front,” Blane laughed as well. “Still, doesn’t mean you get to fuck Goldie. She’s up for grabs. That’s how I see it.”

“There is a no fraternizing with other employees policy here,” Diego stated, while crossing his arms.

“Soo, wouldn’t that mean you’re shit out of luck as well?”

“I’m exempt,” Diego smiled.

“No fucking way. If you’re banging the employees, then so can I. It’s only fair. Don’t you want a fair work environment for everyone? Make your employees happy?”

“Not really. I’m a slave driver. I don’t want anyone happy unless my dick is inside of them,” Diego winked at me.

“Hmm…does that mean I need to bend over?” Blane asked, as if he was contemplating a hard math problem.

“Nah, opening your mouth is perfectly fine.”

“Why am I listening to this?” I asked, as I started to walk away, but Blane stopped me with a muscular arm to my waist. He pulled me into his chest and leaned down to my ear.

“You can’t tell me you’re not affected by me.” I could hear the mirth in his voice, and all I wanted to do was smack that stupid grin off of his face.

Moving in with Diego was a smart move on my part because I could continue to paint and earn money while I tried to figure out what my next step in life was going to be. I also felt safe in his club, like no one could harm me. The only problem was, I was living with two of the most flirtatious men I’ve ever met. Kace and Jett were the complete opposite; they didn’t show many emotions at all…they didn’t show their feelings. They had mastered the art of emotional detachment, making it impossible to understand what they might be possibly thinking in their gorgeously brilliant minds, but not Diego and Blane. They would lick me as I walked by if I let them.

But, even though Jett and Kace didn’t voice their emotions, I could see it in their eyes, especially Jett. He would lighten up when he saw me walk into a room, his eyes would become sinister when I would tease him, and he would soften when I needed him to.

I guess that didn’t matter now, though, because even though I thought he might have loved me, what it came down to was, he didn’t trust me. Never once had I given him the impression that there was any other man but him, but he couldn’t see that; it was as if he had blinders on and he only saw what he wanted to see.

I can’t live my life like that. I refused to live my life like that, but now that I made that decision, I was hurting. I couldn’t lie about it; I was fucking hurting.

“Hey, where did you go?” Blane asked.

“Sorry, just thinking.” I pulled away and grabbed another drink from Diego. Too many heavy thoughts during a fun time with friends.

“Thinking about Jett?” Diego asked, while pulling me into his chest.

“No,” I lied.

“Yeah, okay, Goldie. You’re the worst liar ever.”

“We’re not talking about this,” I pulled away. “We’re learning how to pole dance.” I set my drink down and clapped my hands. “Now, line up, I want to see you guys move.”

“I need music if I’m going to do this,” Blane said with a cringe.

“And another shot,” Diego added.

“Ugh, you guys are annoying. Fine, let me get…”

“Ahhhhhh!!!!!” screams came from down the hallway, scaring the ever living piss out of me.

I flung my body up against the wall in sheer panic as the voices filtered in. Getting ready for a complete attack, I put my hands in knife hand mode and got in my karate attack position.

One by one, Pepper, Babs, Francy, and Tootse filed into the room, holding up bottles of booze and screaming at the top of their lungs.

With my hand to my heart, making sure it didn’t beat right out of my chest, I asked, “What the hell are you four doing here?”

“Drinking with our girl,” Babs said, while eyeing Blane up and down.

Francy tossed a bottle of vodka to Diego and told him to find a place for it.

Pepper grabbed ahold of the cap of the whiskey bottle in her hand and downed some, right before handing it over to me, while Tootse ran up to me with her hands wide open and in attack mode.

In a matter of seconds, I had Tootse’s hands squeezing my breasts, Pepper shoving liquor down my throat, Babs whispering in my ear about Blane, and Francy smacking my ass.

“Hold up,” I said, stopping the onslaught of Jett Girls. “How the hell did you know I was here?”

With her hand on her hip, Babs gave me a pointed look and said, “Come on, Lo, we’re not that stupid. You were either with your bartender friend Carlos, or Diego. We called Carlos and got the old negative from him, so we thought we would come over here.”

“You ladies are welcome over here anytime,” Diego replied, while perusing all the girls, sin lacing his eyes.

“Blane,” Blane introduced himself to Babs, who would not take her eyes off of him.

“Oh, my God, he has an accent,” Tootse squealed, as Babs took Blane’s hand.

“Babs, nice to meet you. Are those muscles real or are they the product of those finicky steroids?”

“Babs!” I chastised.

“What? It’s a legitimate question. If guys can ask about our breasts, we should be able to ask about their muscles. Listen, I was screwed one time by a guy who took steroids. Let’s just say his smallest muscle was hiding in his pants. God, it was like staring at a little piece of macaroni between two ham bones.” She shivered as she remembered the small dick man.

Blane chuckled next to her and said, “They’re all real, sweetheart. No supplements for me.”

“Mmm, I like that.”

“What about your tits?” he asked, eyeing Babs’ cleavage. “Are those real?”

“Like you even had to ask. They’re real, hot stuff. Want to see them?”

“Babs, keep them stuffed away for at least a half hour,” Francy scolded. “Remember what we’re here for.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t know we would be meeting this hunk of meat over here.”

“Why are you here?” I asked, feeling nervous all of a sudden. Did something happen to Jett?