MVP (VIP Book 3) (17 page)

We spent most of the morning in bed, making love and then eating breakfast. I wasn’t nervous about seeing Devon; meeting Brooke, on the other hand, was going to be interesting to say the least. Ysabelle never disclosed any information about her past, I knew what being a VIP entailed, but I never imagined that…I didn’t even know. I needed to play it off like I hadn’t seen
my girl
and her best girlfriend going at it. The evening fast approached and we met Brooke and Devon at a restaurant on South Beach. Ysabelle looked gorgeous as usual with her curly hair running wild and a tight black dress short enough that I had to make sure I was standing behind her or she would’ve given a show. Brooke and Devon were already there when we were seated.

It looked and felt as if we walked in on something and we both picked up on it immediately.

“Bella, I love that dress. Where did you get it?” Brooke asked.

“I’m not quite sure. I bought it on the island, so it’s not designer.”

She cocked her head to the side. “What are you trying to say? I don’t wear anything that doesn’t have a label on it?”

Ysabelle rolled her eyes. “That’s exactly what I’m trying to say.”

Brooke shook her head, blowing it off. “I was just telling Devon here how he should come by The Cathouse and maybe see about getting a membership.”

Ysabelle choked on her drink. “Oh my God, Brooke! I told you to behave.”

Brooke shrugged. “I am…this is me behaving.”

The night proceeded with the girls chatting while Devon and I observed. Brooke and Ysabelle had an amusing dynamic; Brooke definitely was a wildcard and I could tell she was down for anything, anywhere. I didn’t know if that was who she really was or if it was her being a VIP. We ate and when the bill arrived, Brooke literally snatched it out of my hands, insisting that she was paying. She said it’s a welcoming present. I’m not quite sure what that meant; however, I went with it.

We walked down 7
th
Ave to a bar slash club as Brooke called it. There was a line around the corner and Ysabelle and Brooke didn’t falter, they both smiled and nodded toward the bouncer and he let us right in. Devon and I followed them up the stairs to a private and secluded area that observed the entire dance floor; there was a bottle of Moet and Grey Goose on the table with mixers, glasses, and ice. A circular white leather couch surrounded us. The bottle hostess introduced herself immediately and stated that she was our private hostess for the entire night. She said she would get us “anything” we wanted with a nod and a wink.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Ysabelle chuckled.

“Just observing.”

“Sebastian, this is Miami, and Brooke still works as a VIP. Not to mention, I was one for a very long time, which leaves me the open card to do whatever I want…especially in this town. They know us. I told you Madam runs everything,” she informed.

“I see that.”

“Would you have preferred to have waited in line and been standing at the bar waiting for a bartender to take your drink order? Because if you’d rather, then by all means, I’ll follow you down there, though I guarantee you that when one of the bartenders sees me, I’ll be attended to immediately.”

Brooke bounced her way over to us and handed me a drink and Ysabelle a glass of champagne. “It’s vodka and soda water,” she added. “Why are you guys over here not having fun?”

“Sebastian is a little taken aback with our pull I think, and I find it adorable.”

She looked back at me. “Awe! Sebastian…Ysabelle’s never taken you out in Miami before? This is nothing.” She paused. “You guys want any party favors?” She wiggled her eyebrows.

“Jesus, Brooke; it’s one thing after another with you.”

“Well…I mean, when in Rome. Anyway, I need to talk to you about something. Let’s go to the bathroom.”

Ysabelle kissed me and they went on their way. Devon was leaning over the balcony with a drink in his hand, nodding his head to the music. I stood beside him.

“Any particular reason you didn’t tell Ysabelle about our confrontation?” I asked, looking straight ahead.

“I could ask you the same thing. I love her and as long as she’s happy, that’s all that matters to me.”

“Well then, we can agree on that.”

“We’re going to be in each other’s lives, Sebastian. I’m not going to take her away from you, I’m not going to fight for her, I’m not a threat to you. But…I will
always
be here for her.”

I turned to look at him. “Man to man, Devon, I don’t fucking like you and I’m not going to pretend like I do. If it were up to me, you wouldn’t be in her life, and if I were an asshole, I would tell her so…I’m grateful that you protected her and looked out for her when I wasn’t there, but I’m here now and I’m not fucking going anywhere. Let’s agree to disagree and be civil for her sake.”

He nodded and we both went back to ignoring each other.

The night progressed with the girls drinking, dancing, and laughing. It was like they were in their own little bubble. The crazy part about that was they truly did govern a room; all eyes were on them, men and women. There was this energy that radiated off them that you didn’t see from other women. They didn’t have to try–it was just there. I always thought Ysabelle put on a façade, a performance, a mask she wore for everyone. The portrayal of a VIP, but she didn’t.

It was inherent, it came naturally, they were vixens. They thrived on it; it was a game, a game that they always won. It was never about the client, the money, or the sex. It was about the control and the power. They lured you in without so much as a hello; it could be a look, a smile, a subtle touch, a slight movement in their body. It didn’t matter because it was captivating, and the worst part of it all…is that they fucking knew it. It was a drug to them, a high that compared to nothing else in this world. Ysabelle was mine, but that didn’t stop her from receiving attention. They exuded sexuality, a magnetic pull that forced you in without you even realizing it.

In that moment, as much as I tried to ignore the thoughts hovering, I couldn’t.  I remembered Madam’s words about VIPs being born, not made, and until that night, I never took the time to observe what she so precisely stated and informed.

They were made for sin. The way they talked, the way they moved, the way they interacted with others. It was addicting to watch; they were like a drug. You knew it was bad, however, you couldn’t control it because it controlled you.

One more time…

One more taste…

I promise…

It was all bullshit because you were hooked from the second you saw them, everything else was just an added bonus. It consumed your thoughts, actions, and decisions.

As I watched Ysabelle start provocatively dancing with Brooke, my mind immediately went to the video. They were just dancing like all other girlfriends do when they go out, but it was different. Something about it yelled familiarity.

Was it because I watched them fuck each other?

I’m a man; of course, the idea of Ysabelle being with another woman turned me on. I would be lying if I said watching them on video wasn’t stimulating for my cock. That being said, I knew it was tied back to VIP and ultimately Madam, and that made me sick to my stomach.

But…

Was Madam right? Was I enough for her? Was she putting on the mask for me, not the other way around?

Did I truly have Ysabelle or did VIP…

“If you’re dragging me in the bathroom to do drugs with you, Brooke, I’m going to slap you.”

When she said she had to talk to me, that was usually code for, “I have something you know you want.”

“Eww…no. I want to talk about Devon,” she said as I looked at her reflection in the mirror.

“What about Devon?”

“I don’t know; you’ve never talked about him before. Why have you kept him hidden?”

I laughed and shook my head. “I didn’t keep him hidden, I just didn’t want him to know what I was doing.”

“Why is that?” She cocked her head in the mirror.

“Well, for one thing, Madam was adamant about our friends and families not knowing what we did.”

She finished applying her lipstick and turned to face me. “Okay…so tell me about him now?”

I chuckled. “Devon is really not your type, he’s not like other men. He’s probably one of the last nice guys left on this earth. Who would never be okay with his girlfriend being a VIP.”

“Bella, I’m not talking about dating him, I’m talking about fucking him. Is he amazing?”

I shook my head. “I don’t know.”

“You’ve never slept with him?”

“No.”

“Oh…huh…why?”

“Because he’s my best friend and a brother to me.”

She frowned. “I thought I was your best friend?”

I grinned and rolled my eyes. “Okay…he’s my best guy friend. Better?”

She smiled. “Much. How would you feel if I took him for a ride? Literally. I mean, didn’t you say he just got done with a divorce or something? I would totally take one for the team and help him to relieve some sexual tension, and trust me, he’s backed up.”

I jerked back. I hadn’t expected that. “Ummm…yeah, I guess.”

It wasn’t that I was jealous—I was far from it. I knew Brooke and she ate guys like Devon as an appetizer. I didn’t want him getting hurt and God forbid fall for her and then blame me or something when it didn’t work out. I couldn’t lose him.

I wouldn’t.

I watched them closely for the rest of the night. She was coming on strong and it seemed like Devon accepted each and every advance. When they left together, I almost stomped my foot like a child throwing a temper tantrum.

“You’ve been quiet the whole way back. You okay?” Sebastian inquired as I took off my jewelry and placed it in my travel bag.

“It’s just Devon and Brooke…I mean, it’s really bothering me.”

“Why is that?” he questioned.

I straddled his lap when I heard his agitated tone and his hands went to my ass. “It’s not what you’re thinking, silly man. I don’t want him to get hurt, and Brooke will do that and think it’s funny.”

“He’s a big boy, Ysa; he doesn’t need you to be looking out for him. Besides, he looked quite content all night.”

“I’m aware. He’s also just divorced his cheating, money hungry whore of a wife and he’s lonely and I don’t want him to make a rash decision based on how he’s feeling.”

He laughed. “Let me let you in on a little secret. Men fuck. They actually prefer to fuck with no strings attached. I think Brooke coming his way is the best thing for him right now.”

I shoved him harshly, he was pissing me off and he instantly flipped us over with him being on top of me.

“Want to try that again, Ysa?” he taunted with a certain edge to his voice.

“I know how men operate, Mr. Vanwell, trust me. I made a living off it. What you aren’t aware of is that a VIP isn’t like any other woman. He could fuck any other woman, be fine, and I would pat him on the goddamn back. He will fall for her and not even realize it.”

He narrowed his eyes, contemplating what I was saying. “How do you know that?”

You want honesty…well then here it is.
“Because we’re made to be the fantasy. It’s an illusion. And even if she’s not getting paid to fuck him, it’s who she is. We don’t say no…to anything.”