by T Gephart
Technically, it wasn’t a fair bet.
Raelle would flirt and talk to anyone—man, woman, hyena—she didn’t discriminate. As long as you kept the orders coming and weren’t a shitty tipper, you’d have her undivided sexy attention.
But she didn’t sleep with customers, something Jared had probably yet to find out.
It was her one rule, refusing to budge even when she really wanted to. It was something we both agreed on, refusing to accept the stereotype that the only way we’d succeed was by using what was in-between our legs. Ha, ironic that what was between our ears was so much more dangerous, which meant my suggestion to Jared was more of a set up. Not that I’d ever admit that, tempering my reaction while I waited for his response.
His eyes dipped, following the curves of my body before landing back on my face. “I didn’t come here to talk to Raelle.”
Ignoring how stupidly pleased it made me to hear those words, my lips pressed into a firm grin. “Then you better go. If you’re still wanting that chat later, give me a call. If not, I’ll see you around.”
I tried not to smile, my lips betraying me a little as they lifted at the edges. I was not going to lay my cards on the table when I had no idea what was going through Leighton’s mind. And considering I should have already been gone, I didn’t have the time for it either.
The VIP section, and whatever Big Shot needing my attention, still required my presence, which was why I pushed the memory of that kiss and his hands to the side and nodded to the door. I wasn’t going to ask again, my directive that he needed to leave no longer just a suggestion.
I was going to need a minute. If for nothing else to freshen my makeup so I didn’t look like I’d been making out like a teenager.
He swallowed whatever words he was thinking of sharing, leaving them unspoken as he headed toward the door. He paused with his hand on the handle, hesitating before turning. “I’ll wait around and give you a ride home.”
They were the same words he’d said to me only twenty-four hours earlier. But unlike the last time, I was sure how that ride would end.
Him.
Me.
Panting against hot skin as we tangled between my sheets.
And even though there was a chance I’d be waking up to an empty bed and another of those I’m sorry texts, I still wanted it.
“Thanks, but I’ve got a ride.” I cursed under my breath, depriving myself because clearly I enjoyed torturing us both, and I had some sick need to prove a point. And I’ll be honest, when it came to proving a point, I was more stubborn than most. Probably why I stayed with Lewis for so long, putting up with a dead-end relationship when my family had warned me he was a loser with no future.
For a smart woman, I made poor choices when it came to men, hating I got blinded by good looks and an insane attraction to a bad boy. Not that I’d seem to realize that at the start, my stupid hormones running the show instead of my head. I’d hated that they’d been right about him, but more so, that I’d waited so long to kick him to the curb.
Poor impulse control was definitely a family trait.
“Do you really have a ride?” Leighton asked, tilting his head like he didn’t believe me. Or maybe he could read my mind, more perceptive than I gave him credit for, not leaving like I asked.
“Yes, I do.” Without explaining who, I yanked his arm toward the door.
It would have been more satisfying to turn on my heel and leave him watching me walk away. I had that perfect hip sway locked down. But unfortunately for me—and my hip sway—I didn’t leave anyone—even people I trusted—in my office unattended. It was one part of the club where video surveillance only activated after we closed. David had drummed that into me from the start, and there was too much in those filing cabinet drawers I didn’t want public. Namely my plans for expansion and the investment I intended to make.
So drama would have to wait, Jared taking the hint and following me outside as I locked my office once we’d reached the other side of the door.
“Presley, I—”
“Leighton,” I cut him off, “I need to go.”
And with the problem of leaving him in my office no longer a concern, I was able to be as dramatic as I wanted. Which is exactly what I did as I flipped my hair over my shoulders and walked away.
You’re move, Leighton. Let’s see if you’re the man I assumed you were.
Presley
THE CLUB WAS busy as usual, the bodies parting as I made my way through. It was either from my reputation as a hard-ass manager who didn’t take any shit. Or my terminal resting bitch face which I seemed to wear during business hours. It wasn’t intentional, my smile missing in action when I was on duty, too busy making sure everyone else was having a good time and we stayed in the green. Seemed more of an important concern rather than making sure my disposition was cheery. Besides, no one ever asked a man to smile and look pretty, and while I never stepped foot onto the floor looking less than perfect, I’ll be damned if I was going to plaster a fake grin on my face for someone else’s benefit.
“Took you a while.” Bennett chuckled from behind me, his ability to enter and leave a situation silently more impressive than my lack of smile.
I rolled my eyes, ignoring him as I crossed the floor to the roped-off section which was mostly shielded from the public.
“Boss.” Thomas, the security guard who took care of the VIP team, nodded as I walked past, only taking his eyes off the crowd for a minute to acknowledge me.
“Thanks, Thomas. How’s the wife?”
“Hasn’t filed for a divorce yet, guess there’s a positive,” he deadpanned, hiding his grin. “Back left. Scott Collins. Actor. Famous Dad. From L.A.” He gave me his concise report which was as valued as his eagle eyes. “And Jared Leighton is still at the bar.”
Damn it.
I inhaled, putting those yoga breathing exercises to good use even though there wasn’t a chance I’d be finding my zen.
What the hell was he doing at the bar, and why hadn’t he left like I’d asked? Still not the problem that needed my immediate attention which meant I’d forget about him, his sexy body and his hotter-than-hell kiss, and be the professional everyone expected. Not an easy thing to do when what I really wanted was to head right to the bar and find out if he’d had a change in heart about Raelle or if he had some other agenda.
“Lucky him,” I breathed, moving away from the entrance and into Diablo’s club within a club.
It had its own bar, its own bathrooms—totally autonomous, and stocked with so much top-shelf liquor, the inventory alone was worth more than a brand-new car. It was our star attraction, and even if most people didn’t get to see the inside, it made me proud I was in charge of all of it.
Even if Thomas hadn’t pointed him out, I’d have seen Scott Collins the minute I’d walked in. Hollywood blond hair that looked too perfect to be real, his flashy white smile had probably paid for his dentist’s new yacht. He was classically handsome, his well-toned body covered in designer down to his Ferragamo loafers, with his face and name attached to the latest blockbuster I hadn’t had time to see.
I might have been impressed, except his kind weren’t so rare. Before Scott, there was a Brad, or Keanu, or Chris—multiple of them actually—who’d have sat in a chair exactly like the one he was in. And in a few years, those two busty women who were hanging on his every word would be trying to impress someone else. But that was really the point though wasn’t it, and why Diablo was open seven nights a week. Someone had to give their “kind” a safe haven, and I was more than happy to provide it.
Besides, for as good looking as Scott was—and trust me, he was hot—every time he opened his mouth, it was like listening to a licensing agreement for a new iPhone. No personality. None. Boring as a tax audit but with less excitement. Hell, if it wasn’t for his dad, he’d probably be promoting leisure wear for someone like Tommy Hilfiger, at least then he could just look pretty and not talk.
“Mr. Collins, w
elcome to Diablo.” I approached his posse, giving him the smile I rationed out when I was at work. “Hope you’re enjoying your time with us.”
“Presley!” He peeled off his sunglasses, his pricey shoes hitting the plush carpet as he rose to meet me. “I’ve heard a lot about you. Wanted to see for myself if all the rumors were true.”
From his grin, I wasn’t exactly sure what rumors he was talking about. I’d heard things from time to time, where people assumed my rise had been courtesy of talents on a mattress. I understood it, I was a twenty-six-year-old business manager who was running one of the hottest clubs in the city. And since my daddy wasn’t bankrolling the operation, it stood to reason my talents were sucking dick.
Couldn’t have been the four years of college and the five years of bar experience. Or even the five years before that, when I’d worked either as a waitress or hostess in some form of hospitality venue since I was sixteen.
Nope.
Had to be my tits.
“Well Mr. Collins, I don’t waste my time listening to rumors. You of all people would know, they rarely get it right.” My lips edged wider.
It was a talent, telling someone to go fuck themselves while sounding like I was wishing them a good day. And trust me, it was the one time when I was at work where the smile was not completely manufactured. Hell, part of me loved they underestimated me. Made my success even sweeter, reveling in their slack-jawed expressions like a demon would lost souls.
“Of course. I mean, you should read what they say about me.” He laughed, clearly enjoying the press coverage, however inaccurate. “And call me Scott. Mr. Collins is my dad.” He held out his hand, waiting for me to take it.
“Scott.” I returned his shake, ignoring how his eyes were lingering over my cleavage. “Well, if there’s anything else we can do for you, be sure to let one of my staff know.”
“Wait, you’re going? I thought we might spend some time together. Not every day I get to meet such a powerhouse. Well, to be honest, I do get to meet powerhouses most days, but none are as pretty as you.”
Snore.
Really, Scott? That was the best you could do?
I really hoped he had a huuuuge penis, because if his dates were looking for stimulating conversation this evening, they were going to be shit out of luck. “And now we’ve met, so—”
“C’mon, Presley. You going to make me beg?” He leaned in, keeping his voice low so no one else could hear him. “I can see charm isn’t going to do me any good here, so I’ll be straight with you. I have a business proposition. You hear me out, and I promise, you’re going to be interested. And if not, I’ll sit down and run up my bar tab and enjoy my female company. Either way, you can’t lose.”
And as much as I hated to admit it, he definitely had my attention. I was used to guys asking me out, trying to slip a hand here or there, and even propositions of a different kind. Rarely did men want to talk business, especially on the floor of my club.
My eyes glanced to his dates, their lips pouting with disappointment that he was no longer sandwiched between them. And because I didn’t intentionally embarrass my guests, and knew how to be discreet, I leaned in too. “Scott, let me be clear about one thing. Outside these doors, you might be a big deal. I’m positive you have more money than you could ever spend in a lifetime and are used to people telling you exactly what you want to hear. But this is my house, and in my house, there’s only one God. And you’re looking at her. So if you have business to discuss, you’ll have to set up an appointment like everyone else. I’m sure you have a person who can help you with that?” I moved back, lifting my brow and maintaining my smile.
“Yeah, I can do that.” His grin widened. If he was offended, he sure as hell wasn’t showing it. “By the way, you’re exactly how they described. You have a card?”
“I’ll make sure you get one before you leave. Have a good night.” I tipped my head to the waitstaff, letting them know his next round was on me.
It was why I was so good at what I did, able to balance diplomacy without being anyone’s doormat. Pity it didn’t always extend to my personal life. Which was why I usually ended up with a relationship that was a dumpster fire and a boyfriend who I should have avoided.
Of course, my night of meaningless sex with a nice guy hadn’t worked out so well either.
Sooooooooooooo.
“Shot him down, huh?” Bennett chuckled, sidling up beside me as I wandered out to the main part of the club. “You want to take a guess as to how long it’s been for him? I bet he’s still reeling from the shock.”
“Well, someone has to keep them humble. Think of it as a calling. Some people do missionary work, and I—”
“Annihilate egos,” he laughed. “Guess that’s why Ladder 49 is licking his wounds at the bar. Raelle lets them down easy.”
I didn’t want to look, ignoring the impulse to glance—just somewhere in the general direction—and see.
Casually.
Completely from a business point of view.
Leighton was still a guest, not to mention my brother’s best friend. And I wanted him to have a good time. Right? Right.
Given permission, my eyes briefly darted to the bar, and I was met by his icy blues aimed right back.
Like he’d been waiting.
But he wasn’t smiling like he usually was, his mouth occupied as he slowly knocked back a beer. He didn’t even pretend he wasn’t staring, watching me as his Adam’s apple bobbed with his slow seductive swallow.
“Do me a favor, Bennett.” My eyes stayed on Jared while addressing my head of security. “Tell Raelle I need to see her in my office when she has a minute.”
“And 9-1-1?”
“You know his name.”
“Doesn’t mean I have to use it.” He didn’t even try to hide how pleased he was.
I shook my head, not bothering to argue. Waste of time and breath, and I had bigger issues to deal with. “It’s a free country, unless he’s stepping out of line, no reason why he can’t stay.”
Bennett cleared his throat, making it obvious he wasn’t convinced. “Fine. We’ll let him stay. Can I toss out the mouthy blond at least? She’s been looking at my dick like she thinks she has a chance. Has to be high.”
“Melinda is harmless. Ignore her.” I shook my head, not sure why she had suddenly become a regular or why she was propositioning men. She’d flat out offered to blow Jared the night before. The look of disgust and shock was enough to make me laugh. There was a snowball’s chance in hell that would ever happen, and Jared was far from an altar boy. “I’m not sure what her angle is, but I’m assuming she’s looking for her ex-husband’s attention. Mack won’t make that mistake twice, so let her spend her money. Just keep an eye on her, and keep me posted.”
If there was a need, I’d escort her out myself, but other than being a pain in the ass and having zero class, she didn’t have any major infractions. And if I threw out every tacky annoying bitch, I’d have a half-empty club.
“Got it. I’ll let Raelle know.” Bennett gave me a two-fingered salute before disappearing into the crowd.
Against my better judgment, I glanced back over at Jared. His eyes hadn’t shifted, raking up and down my body like his hands had done last night. But he didn’t move, seeming to be recommitted to his vow of no-touchies.
Ugh.
Such a shame.
Because if he followed me back into my office, I wasn’t sure I’d stop him.
Sighing, because thinking about him and his hands got me hotter than I should be when I was on the clock, I walked back to my office and closed the door. My desk stood in testimony; the scattered papers strewn across its lofty surface reminding me exactly what I’d been doing before I left.
I’d barely sat down when there was a knock at the door, Raelle, clearing her throat on the other side. “You need me?”
The lock disengaged with a click, my finger still on the button by my desk as she yanked open the door and came inside. She did
n’t wait for the invitation, taking a seat opposite me once the lock had reengaged.
“Let me guess,” she settled into the chair, her bright pink lips edging wide, “you need a ride home tonight?”
I rolled my eyes, slightly annoyed I’d promised my stupid brother I wouldn’t go home alone even though I’d done it a million times before. “I don’t need the ride. I’m happy to call a cab or an Uber. But I’m positive Tibbs has someone watching to make sure I don’t leave alone.”
“He’s only doing it because he cares. Not saying I wouldn’t accept some of that concern if he were throwing it my way.” Her brows arched, hinting the concern she’d like was a little less platonic.
She did that a lot. Pretended she had deep, dark sexual fantasies about my brother to annoy me. But I knew who she really wanted was Bennett. So, instead of coming clean, admitting she had a thing for the guy we worked with, she went through an intricate charade where she told me she wanted to sleep with my brother, Justin.
“You know, Rae, I think you should go for it. I mean, if he’s busy with you, he can’t really be concerned with me, can he?” I called her bluff, my mood off. Between the pent-up sexual frustration from Jared’s kiss and annoyance from Scott, I wasn’t up to the usual game we played.
Raelle coughed, surprised she’d been given the green light. “What?”
“You and Justin,” I leaned back into my large leather chair. It was wrong that I got joy out of it, but given the status of my evening, I was going to have to take my satisfaction where I could get it. “I bet you guys would make such a cute couple. You want me to call him, set it up? Orrrrrrr maybe I’ll give him your number? Then you can tell him all those naughty things you want to do to him.”
“Okay, stop. You win. And I’ll drive you home, just don’t give him my number. I don’t want to give your brother the wrong idea, and to be honest, I can only deal with one Tibbs at a time.” She held up her hand, conceding quicker than I’d expected.
