Puck Me Harder: A Stepbrother Romance [BL]

Micah’s POV

The silence in the room after George Jenson walked out was suffocating, heavy enough to crush the lungs right out of my chest.

As soon as the double doors clicked shut behind him, Eve didn’t wait a single second. She rushed across the plush carpet, her high heels clicking sharply against the floor, and grabbed my bare upper arm with a grip like steel.

"You shouldn’t have given him any information, Micah," she whispered harshly, her dark eyes flashing with anger and frustration.

I blinked, my mind still spinning from the cold touch of George’s fingers on my chin. I quickly lowered my head, staring down at the spot on the rug where his shoes had been standing.

"I’m sorry," I muttered, my voice barely audible over the thumping bass of the music echoing outside. "I... he was..."

A heavy, exhausted sigh cut me off before I could even finish my sentence.

"Of course you don’t know any better. You haven’t read the rules and regulations yet," Eve said, rubbing her temples as if a massive migraine was splitting her head open. She turned her head toward Camille, who was slumping on the velvet couch with his long legs crossed, glaring at me like he wanted to rip my throat out.

I could read Camille’s expression like an open book. He was burning up inside, utterly humiliated and furious, violently wondering why a high-profile VIP like George Jenson had completely rejected him only to turn around and demand a plain, terrified nobody like me instead.

"Camille is even worse," Eve groaned under her breath, snapping her long fingers in the air. "Both of you, follow me right now."

She spun on her heel and led us straight out of the VIP wing. We walked through a series of quiet, carpeted corridors until she pushed open the door to a small, private office. She gestured sharply with her hand, signaling for us to sit in the two leather chairs facing her desk.

Camille instantly darted forward, claiming the chair I was originally leaning toward. When I turned to look at him, he just glared back at me, tilting his head with pure arrogance.

I didn’t care enough to argue. I quietly took the remaining chair and watched as Eve pulled two thick sheets of printed paper out of a desk drawer. She handed one to Camille and slid the other across the dark wood to me.

"Make sure you read it thoroughly and digest every single word," Eve instructed, her voice leaving no room for debate. "If you have any questions about how things operate here, come straight to me."

She paused, her sharp brows furrowing as her eyes locked onto mine. "You’re not staying in the performers’ residential suites upstairs tonight, are you?"

I shook my head immediately, a cold wave of terror washing over me at the thought. I couldn’t stay here tonight. If I vanished completely and slept at a nightclub, Noah would realize I had run away for good. He would tear this entire city apart, burn down every building in his path, and track me down no matter where I hid.

"If you’re heading back home tonight, you must return tomorrow evening since Mr. Jenson specifically requested you," Eve said plainly.

Camille leaned forward in his chair, his fan snapping shut with a loud CLACK. "What about me? He didn’t even hate it when I touched him!"

Eve turned her head, shooting Camille an icy, uncompromising glare. "Stay far away from him whenever you see him, Camille. That is an order."

Camille frowned deeply, his lips twisting into an ugly pout as he aggressively fanned his face, turning his head away to stare at the wall, completely refusing to look at me.

My heart was hammering wildly against my ribs. I desperately wanted to look up at Eve and tell her that I wasn’t coming back tomorrow. I wanted to scream that I didn’t want to go anywhere near George Jenson again. The moment that man had heard my real name, something terrifying had flickered in his cold brown eyes. Why did it feel like he already knew who I was? Why did it feel like he had been looking for me?

"Why are you so pale, Micah?" Eve’s sharp voice broke through the chaotic noise in my head. "What’s going on in your mind?"

I snapped out of my thoughts, swallowing the dry lump in my throat as I forced myself to meet her gaze. "I... I think Camille should see him tomorrow instead. I don’t feel comfortable being around him."

Eve stared at me for a second, her expression softening just a fraction. She reached across the desk, placing her warm, manicured hand over my bare, trembling shoulder.

"Our clients will never lay a hand on my boys if they say no," Eve stated firmly, her voice steady and reassuring. "Read the rules and regulations, Micah. That way you’ll understand your task properly and know your rights in this club."

I bit my lower lip, giving her a small, reluctant nod.

Twenty minutes later, I had stripped out of the tight crimson dress, peeled off the suffocating heels, and pulled my own familiar clothes back over my skin.

I left the Phoenix Club through the quiet back exit, flagged down a yellow cab, and gave the driver my address.

My mind was racing, trying to fabricate a believable lie for where I had been all evening, trying to think of any excuse to explain why I hadn’t come straight back when Noah texted me.

But as the taxi pulled up to our dark driveway, a cold reality hit me right in the gut. I had completely forgotten that I couldn’t even hide in my own bedroom anymore. My room had been reduced to ashes in the fire, meaning Noah and I were forced to share his room. There was nowhere to hide from him.

I stepped out of the cab, my knees weak as I walked up the stone steps and unlocked the front door.