Chapter 22. Rico’s Rage

Rico dragged Calla away from the crowd, and she tried to keep up with his long strides. He passed his bouncer and entered the VIP booth hallway. He pushed her into an empty booth and slammed the door shut.

He turned to her and his eyes were blazing with fire. Calla swallowed hard, trying to keep her fear in.

She didn’t need him to speak; his rage filled the space between them. She had left her house and came partying in a club. His club.

She let a stranger touch her, and she hasn’t forgotten what he did to the last guy who held her that way.

He was killed.

She shivered just remembering it.

“What the fuck are you wearing?” His voice came, low and rough. Calla raised a brow at him.

“You came here dressed like that. Were you hoping someone would put their fucking hands on you?”

“I didn’t know you had a dress code for your whores,” Calla said, leaning against the wall and crossing her arms.

She was still pissed about that day and she