Stefan (The Marquette Family Book Three)

Stefan

The Marquette Family

Book Three

Copyright © July 2015, Tressie Lockwood

Cover art designed by Clarissa Yeo © July 2015

ISBN 978-1-627621-01-4

This is a work of fiction. All characters and events portrayed in this novel are fictitious or used fictitiously. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, or portions thereof, in any form.

Amira Press

www.amirapress.com

Chapter One

The music blared in Talicia’s ears and pulsed in her chest. She was used to it. In fact, she enjoyed it. Her nights wouldn’t be complete if she couldn’t come to the club. This was her place, her empire so to speak. No one could take it away from her.

Hiding a half grin, she moved about the crowd, nodding to those who acknowledged her and touching the backs of some. One of the regulars tried grabbing her hand to lead her onto the dance floor, but she resisted him, waggling a finger in his face. She didn’t dance, not when she was working. Her gaze was always roving the crowd, looking for areas that could use improvement, customers that could use prodding to enjoy themselves more.

Of course, it went without saying she watched for fools who thought they could disrupt the well-oiled machine that was her club. They ended up on the street—on their asses if necessary—and Talicia didn’t need to rely on the bouncers she employed to get it done either. There was nothing she liked more than to surprise a hulking jackass with how strong she was at her size.

“Licia.” Her twin brother wrapped an arm about her shoulders and leaned his cheek against hers. She rolled her eyes and patted his head. “Get off. I have to focus.”

“Girl, you know you got this. Our club is on fire tonight, and nobody’s going to mess it up.”

“It’s on fire because I stoke it and make sure it doesn’t get out of hand.”

“Come have a drink with me.”

She managed to get out of his hold without knocking his scrawny tail on the floor, but he wouldn’t back off. Tyjon pulled her in the direction of the bar and held up two fingers to one of the bartenders.

“Ty, I’m not drinking tonight.”

“Yes, you are.” He shoved a glass full of pale liquid into her hand and knocked back one of his own. She gave in because it was easier to deal with him that way. He grinned and wiggled a hand, indicating her entire body. “See? The bitch aura is easing already.”

She pursed her lips. “No, you didn’t just call me a bitch, Ty.”

He fluttered heavily made up eyelashes at her. “I said
aura
de bitch.”

She held up a finger in his face. “You’re not funny.”

“I’m fierce though, right?” He did a twirl. “Look at how I’m working this outfit, Licia. You can’t tell me I don’t have all eyes on me tonight.”

Talicia laughed and shook her head. Okay, she had to admit Tyjon looked good in anything. He always did command a room, so confident in his sexuality and so full of personality. She adored her brother, and she would do anything for him. In fact, her life had been devoted to making sure he was okay.

“Every eye is on you because you’re loud and bright,” she teased.

He pouted, and she kissed his cheek.

“Aw, I’m just playing. You look great.”

His smile lit up the room. “Thanks, ’lil sis. So is he coming tonight?”

She ran a hand over the back of her head, smoothing her hair. “I’m ten minutes older than you.”

“But is he coming?”

Talicia swirled to face the stage. The live band played, one night on a limited schedule. She knew what Tyjon was asking, but to answer meant stirring up a conversation she didn’t want to have. Instead, she leaned an elbow on the bar and accepted a second glass. This one she sipped. Tyjon knew she didn’t drink much. Yet, he was right. Sometimes, she felt like she needed it. Nights like tonight.

“Yeah,” she said at last. “He’s supposed to be coming.”

Whenever the band was playing was a night he might call her to tell her he would be there. So many times, the call didn’t come, and the only person she admitted her bitter disappointment to was herself. Not even to Tyjon, but he knew.

“Licia, he—”

“Don’t start, Ty.”

He pursed his lips. “It’s because I love you that I say anything. Has he ever once offered to introduce you to his family, or for that matter to let them know you exist?”

“Let it go,” she bit out and stirred to traverse the room. He followed. When they were near her office, he grabbed her arm, and she paused, sighing. “I don’t want him to introduce me. We both agreed.”

“Yeah, but he should have insisted. He should have been proud to show you off. Maybe he thinks you’re not pretty enough or that…”

He went on, but Talicia had stopped listening. Her brother meant well, but he had hurt feelings—again. She didn’t wear them on her sleeve for anyone to know. As far as Tyjon or the friends and acquaintances in her life knew, Talicia was hard as nails. Tyjon had hinted that she was a bitch, and she supposed she acted that way a lot. She didn’t care if they thought of her that way because she used it to survive. The world they lived in almost required it. On the other hand, having Tyjon say she wasn’t considered to be pretty enough, well, that scalded.

Talicia punched in the code to let herself through to the office. When her brother tried to follow, she shook her head and gave him the look that meant give her space or suffer the consequences. He backed off. She watched as he found a dance partner, a man he’d been teasing for a while now.

Talicia headed upstairs to her office and shut a second door there. The noise level from the music died down, and she dropped into a chair and shut her eyes. When she did, an image of a man with dark hair and frosted blond tips slipped into her head. The green eyes so full of gentle humor and all around happiness with life were what made her heart beat faster and stole her reason. Tyjon didn’t know the truth. No one did. Not the full extent of her connection to her lover.

The panel to her right buzzed, and she stirred from her position to stab a button. “Yeah?”

Right away music interrupted her solitude, and a tinny voice informed her, “Your singer’s here, Licia.”

She stood and leaned over the panel to scan the crowd below. The two-way mirror kept anyone from seeing into her private booth, but she could observe them without issue. He stood at the foot of the stage, talking to one of the drummers and smiling.

Already Talicia’s heart rate had kicked up, and she found it harder to draw in a breath. Recalling her brother’s innocent comment from earlier, she glanced down at herself. Tonight she wore simple black slacks and a crisp white shirt. As she ran her hands over her chest, her palms barely registered the small rise in her breasts. She wished she had chosen something else. Anything would be more flattering to her figure—what little figure she had.

As Talicia descended the stairs to the main club area, she wondered what ran through his mind when he looked at her on any given night. Did he feel regret about the circumstances of their meeting? He had to be attracted to her on some level. After all, he kept coming to her bed. Not regularly though. Maybe they were coming to an end. She couldn’t say she hadn’t expected it long before now.

Music from the keyboard filled the air, and a new beat replaced what they pumped through the speakers. Talicia stumbled to a stop to watch him. He was born for the stage. He played it up, drawing in every person, male and female, to his performance. No one could ignore him.

Then there was the voice—that smooth deep voice that sang of love and heartache, longing, lovemaking in the wee hours. Talicia scanned the audience, and several women were casting out lures. Some were subtle, but one woman boldly weaved through the crowd and threw a slip of paper on the stage. She mouthed the words “call me,” and he winked at her. Talicia rolled her eyes.

She moved farther along the crowd and spotted another familiar face, also casing the crowd. They were careful about those who entered the club. No weapons, but one couldn’t be too careful. Her bouncers were trained. She trusted them, but Jerome was far more than a simple bouncer.

“Hey, Jerome,” she said when they passed.

“Ms. Talicia.”

She read his lips more than heard his voice. He was as big as a refrigerator. Despite his size he could move like an Olympic runner. She had seen him in action. He knew his stuff, and he would die for his employer. Period.

Talicia found a spot near a table and paused to watch
him
again. She couldn’t help herself. His presence was so big he drew her attention just as he did that first night when he wandered into her club, a white man who looked like he was upper crust, slumming on her side of town. Well, they weren’t the slums exactly, but still, the few white people who visited the club were lower to middle class. He had given off a scent of money from day one. Talicia hadn’t known who he was, but Tyjon did, whose face was glued to the tabloid news when he wasn’t in the club—both online and on TV.

“Damn, he looks so good I could eat him,” a Latino woman said, who sipped a drink next to Talicia. She flipped long auburn dyed hair and licked her lips. Talicia realized it was the same woman who had approached the stage and tossed her number up there. She had a lot of confidence.
“Chico,
do you know if he’s got a girl?”

Talicia bit down on her cheek. “Why don’t you ask him?”

The woman’s eyes widened, and she let her rude gaze rake over Talicia’s slender figure. She’d had the same treatment a hundred other times and was used to it—not really. “Oh, sorry. You’re a woman!”

Of course, everyone speaking in the club had to yell, but why did it seem a lull had risen in the noise to cause her shout to be heard more distinctly? Several heads turned in their direction. Talicia pretended an interest in something across the room while her anger simmered.

She counted and concentrated on breathing. The fact that she wasn’t the most feminine looking woman in the world wasn’t her fault. There was no reason to rearrange this woman’s beautiful face. And she was beautiful, too, with luxurious hair, pouting lips, big boobs, and a figure any man would beg to touch.

“Well, it doesn’t matter,” she went on, dismissing Talicia as any type of competition. “I made sure he saw where I put my number. Those other bitches are copycats. He’s going to come to me.”

Talicia shrugged. She tried to school her expression to show she had no opinion on the matter. However, a stubborn desire to prove the woman wrong made her stay nearby throughout the performance. When the show came to a close, the deep sexy voice promised he would come again, and the women cheered.

He moved away from the keyboard and cupped his eyes against the lights. His gaze flicked over the crowd, and honestly Talicia couldn’t tell if it lingered on her or on the Latino woman. Bouncers along with Jerome kept the other women at bay. He made his way through the crowd, and Talicia stared, taking in his broad shoulders and chest straining against his shirt. The tanned skin on his bare forearms reminded her of how he looked naked—perfection. She’d never been into white guys, but from the moment she met him there had been attraction between them.

“Told you so,” the Latino woman said as she primped and straightened. She stepped into the aisle, blocking Talicia’s view. He reached her and then stepped to the side to get around her.

“Excuse me,” he muttered in his deep tone. He reached Talicia and caressed the skin on the inside of her wrists. “Licia.”

She coughed and cleared her throat. Emotion overwhelmed her until she got a grip on herself. “Stefan.”

Her heart thundered. She couldn't say anything else.

“Can you get off right now?”

“I’m afraid I’ve got a couple more hours to go.”

“Then I’ll wait for you.”

Why oh why did he have to say it like that? She waved a hand and tried for a do whatever you want attitude, but he strummed her other palm with his fingertips. Damn if she didn’t tremble a little. Only Stefan could make her defenses crumble with a touch that gentle.

“Okay.” She didn’t think he heard because the music had come back on. Talicia eased around him, and she met the angry gaze of the woman. “What were you saying?”

A string of curses in Spanish flew from the woman’s mouth, but Talicia ignored her and kept moving. The rest of the night, she worked to keep her head on the job, avoiding eye contact with Stefan. Women approached him. He entertained them chatting and dancing a little, nothing too close or too intimate. She had learned early on he had a way of seeming available and flirting without actually doing it. Talicia had told him it didn’t matter to her one way or another, which wasn’t true, but the man had this weird honor system. He wasn’t her first man, and she had never trusted anyone, so Stefan’s attitude had taken her by surprise.

At last, the time rolled around to close. Talicia covered her mouth, yawning. “Hey, let’s clear it. I’m tired.”

One of the bouncers smirked. “You mean you want to get to your toy.”

She pinned him with a glare. “Whether I do or don’t is my business, isn’t it? Mind yours before I make you.”

“Damn, Licia, ease up. I was kidding.”

She said nothing, just looked at him. He stumbled over an apology. Within minutes the club was empty, and the cleanup began. She didn’t need to stick around for that part, thank goodness. A squeal behind her brought her around. Tyjon skipped across the floor and launched himself at Stefan’s back, grinning.

“Hey, baby, it’s been what…a month? You never come around anymore.”

Talicia shook her head. Her brother kept telling her Stefan was using her, but then whenever Stefan came around, he acted like they were old friends. Sometimes she thought he did it to see if it would make Stefan uncomfortable, but that wasn’t Stefan’s way.