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Clearly, Rogue had been listening longer than either of them suspected.
Oh, God.
“Do you have your own fuck toy, Nash?”
Nash scowled, looking directly at Rod.
“No.”
“Me neither.” Rogue hummed. “Fuck. Toy.”
“Sir, I—” Rod said.
“Shut the fuck up,” Rogue snapped, and Rod immediately clamped his lips.
It was pretty impressive how everyone, herself included, did exactly what they were told when Rogue and Trey spoke. It went beyond any and all professionalism. There was an invisible and unspoken power each man held.
“Enlighten me, motherfucker, ’cause you said being the boss’s fuck toy doesn’t get you privileges. Only two bosses in this club, and since she ain’t my fuck toy that must make her Trey’s. Am I right?”
Dahlia felt the heat rise up her chest, spreading over her face. This was beyond humiliating. Rod remained silent, only prolonging the intense scene. Dahlia wiped her hair from her forehead, looking across the room. She caught Nash’s stare and immediately averted her eyes.
Rogue slammed his fist on the desk, and she winced.
“If I gotta ask you again, I’m gonna get outta this chair. You don’t want that.”
“I was referring to Trey,” Rod blurted.
“Ah…” Rogue’s grin was menacing. “Now we’re getting somewhere. So she’s Trey’s fuck toy?”
Rogue slowly angled his head, staring back at her. “Is that a paid position, or do you do it pro bono?”
Dahlia glanced down at the floor. The heat rising to her face was burning.
“Rogue.” Nash’s voice was quiet, but his tone sounded like a warning.
Dahlia expected Rogue to continue his rant, but surprisingly, the room was drowned in silence. Until it wasn’t.
“Is there a problem?”
Just the sound of his voice had a physical effect on her. She glanced up at Trey, who was scanning the room, taking in the scene. When his eyes locked on her, a strange sensation blanketed her. She hadn’t felt it in years. Safety.
Rogue pointed to Rod. “That motherfucker is claiming she’s your fuck toy.”
Trey’s jaw squared, and he narrowed his gaze. “Is that right?”
There was no masking Trey’s anger, and she shifted on her feet, watching him glare at Rod. Trey had been adamant about no one knowing about them, with the exception of a select trusted few.
”Dahlia,” Trey called, and she rushed over when he crooked his finger. She was halfway across the room when Rogue snapped.
“You gonna let that motherfucker get away with this shit, Trey?”
“No.” Trey scowled, placing his hand on her back. Without hesitation, she curled closer to his side. “I’m also not going to allow anyone to embarrass her any further. Am I making myself clear?”
“Yeah, fucking crystal.”
Rogue quickly jerked his gaze to Dahlia, and she turned slightly, bowing her head. Trey grabbed her hand, and she flinched. Out of reflex, she pulled away, but he tightened his grip, leading her across the room. Dahlia didn’t have to look to know all eyes were on her. With the door open, the likelihood of security hearing the whole conversation was high. Beads of sweat broke out on her forehead.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
