He nodded and pressed a small red button on the speaker mounted to the wall behind him.
A deep, melodic voice came back from the speaker. “What can we get ya?”
“Jonas, I need you up here. And bring a watermelon margarita, a—” He looked at Tori again. “Tequila Sunrise?” She nodded. “And a cherry martini for me.”
A cherry tini. That sounded good. LeAnne hadn’t tried those yet.
“Sure you don’t want something harder than a martini?” The voice said back. “Kind of a puss drink.”
Michael groaned. “Just get your ass up here.”
LeAnne laughed at the switch in Michael’s tone. He’d gone from formal and educated to almost ghetto in a step. He was getting more interesting by the moment, as was Tori’s life. It was unorthodox, but a breath of fresh air after her stuffy marriage, and LeAnne was determined to make the most of it. She relaxed back onto the seat and forced her shoulders to relax. Another of Tori’s friends was on his way up, and she had to unwind. Their first impression of her didn’t need to be that of an uptight, naïve ex-housewife who’d just ventured across the tracks for the first time. Even if it was almost true, she didn’t want them to know. No, LeAnne had to be cool. At least, she had to be something that resembled cool because she needed friends and needed them fast. Maybe the drink would help.
“LeAnne?” Michael moved his arm from around Tori, leaned forward. He placed both his elbows on the table. “Tori and I spoke briefly about your…situation.”
Her stomach knotted. LeAnne had known she was going tell him, but she didn’t want to discuss her new poverty here—or perhaps ever, with him—but she would be polite, as always. “Go on.”
“I don’t mean to intrude in your affairs, but I have a proposition I’d like to discuss with you.”
“Oh-kay. What kind of proposition?” LeAnne looked at Tori, who shrugged her shoulders in a dismissive kind of way. She’d throttle her for that later.
“Just your eternal slavery in exchange for immortality,” said an enticing male voice that pulled her attention sideways to a pair of slick grey pants.
LeAnne let her eyes wander up his lean form, up to a black button-up that stood as a sharp contrast to his a startling white countenance. The man’s black eyes were predatory, sinful, and set like jewels in an alabaster face. A silken sheet of bone-white hair fell down around his face. The man would have been startling if he hadn’t been so completely spellbinding.
Wow. She had to give Tori credit; she’d hit the mother lode of beautiful men. No wonder the girl had been so quiet the last few months. If LeAnne had stumbled into this group, Tori probably would’ve never heard from her again.
Tori’s burst of laughter shook her back to her senses, then made her wonder if she’d missed something or if Tori was laughing at her ogling the guy.
“Jonas, where is Elena?” The warning in Michael’s voice made her nervous.
“She went out to dinner.” Jonas slid a tray of pink and red drinks onto the table, never taking his creepy black eyes off LeAnne or showing any sign he’d noticed Michael’s tone. “Hey. You must be LeAnne.”
“Hi,” LeAnne managed, and realized she was nervously rubbing a hole in her thumb with her index fingernail again. LeAnne wasn’t sure if the depth of his stare was alluring or unnerving, but she leaned toward the last.
Jonas slid onto the bench beside her. “Tori didn’t say you were beautiful.”
LeAnne smirked. Now he was just blowing smoke. Why did all men go straight to the “you’re beautiful” line? While she didn’t think herself hideous, she also didn’t think she was beautiful. That was a word designated for Miss America. The biggest title she’d won was Miss Collins High. The phrase frustrated her. Being lied to wasn’t making her like him.
Jonas’s cool hand took hers and lifted it slowly. Then with the utmost care, he gave her a soft kiss on the wrist. Her heart galloped in her chest. She watched him draw in a long breath. He could’ve been sampling her perfume, if she wore it. It was an odd gesture, but still seemed to fit the man and the setting, and it made her frustration at his lie melt away.
Jonas’s leaned back and looked down at her while his hand moved hers hand back to the table. “You smell like—”
“Enough, garante.” Michael practically growled other words she didn’t understand, but sounded like they were Italian.
“Wanna swap seats, LeAnne?” Tori scooted a few inches away from Michael.
He glared at her with a look that was worse than his tone.
“No,” LeAnne said. She wasn’t giving up her seat.
Instead, LeAnne watched the three of them. Jonas stared at Tori with a look she could only describe as a mix of surprise, humor, and a desire to do more than kiss her wrist. Michael’s face was utterly blank, though his hand shifted onto Tori’s shoulder. Poor Tori could barely keep her eyes off Jonas even though she tried. LeAnne didn’t know what was going on between her friend and the club owner but something was, and she would know later. There would definitely be girl talk later tonight. Tori needed someone to shake her out of whatever dream she was in. That was a dangerous game she was playing.
Michael cleared his throat. Tori looked up at him. For a few heartbeats, they all sat still and silent. LeAnne glanced between them and felt a wordless conversation happening. If she had believed in telepathy, she would have said those two possessed it.
Jonas turned to her. His hand raised the Margarita toward her lips. “Drink up.”
Stunned, LeAnne grabbed the glass to slow his tilt, and took a mouthful of the salty, sour lime drink. Then she pushed it away. Jonas sat it down as she swallowed a few times. The last swallow left her chest and throat burning with tequila.
She gasped. “Wow!” Then she coughed. “Strong.”
He nodded and winked.
“As I was saying before we were interrupted, I have a proposition.” Michael sat back and put his arm back around Tori. “She tells me you have a degree in finance.”
“A bachelor’s in accounting.”
He nodded, one dip of the head. “And that you were looking for a more profitable job.”
“I took a position at the hospital, but I’m open to other ventures.”
“Good. She also said you had a great business mind and that you’re the most trustworthy and organized person she knows.”
LeAnne grinned. “I try.”
“Then we may be able to help each other. I have several clubs. Jonas runs this one but we acquired new properties. The staff didn’t all go with the exchange, so we have gaps. I need people whom I can trust with very sensitive information. Tori thinks you’re the most trustworthy and organized person she knows.” He leaned forward and slid a black business card across the table. “This club has the greatest potential and is most in need of someone with your particular skill set.”
She picked the card up and held it closer. Below the pink outline of a monkey but above the phone number and hours of operation, it read:
Le Singe Rose
Gentlemen’s Club
LeAnne smirked at the name. She recalled enough French from high school to know that meant The Pink Monkey. Classy place, she thought sarcastically. “I’ve never managed a club.”
“I’m aware of that.”
“You’ve always wanted to,” Tori said with a cattish grin. “Could be a fun new start.”
LeAnne nodded. She had always wanted to own a club. Now that she’d survived a bad marriage, she was ready to do those kinds of things, “bucket list” things. She’d begun some changes already. James’s critical eye had made her hate her own body. As often as possible, she’d avoided tight-fitting clothes, swimsuits, and sex, but divorce changed that. Now, she embraced the femininity, curiosity, and sexuality she’d been avoiding. As those bloomed, she’d also become more adventurous than she’d ever imagined. After she and August
ventured into a strip club, they’d toyed with the idea of owning one. Of course, she’d imagined male strippers they could drool over, but this could work. If she had free rein to keep it from seediness, Michael’s club might even be just what she needed to get going with her new life. Still, those Puritanical morals beaten into her head as a child left twinges of guilt.
“The club sustains itself,” Michael said. “However, if someone had the drive and business sense to renovate the building and business model, it could be much more profitable.”
LeAnne thought for a moment, mulling her options. Working in payroll at the hospital wasn’t adding the exciting life she’d hoped for when she moved. The pay, working conditions, and everything else about the job were average and safe, just as the rest of her life had been. Managing a strip club could be exciting. However, it also wasn’t an occupation she could brag about to her friends back in Orlando. They would be mortified. James would never let her live it down. By the time he was done, he would have her painted as the Whore of Babylon. Still—
“I’d need to see the books to really discuss this.”
Michael nodded. “I understand. I’d expected no less from anyone taking the position. And if you’re still interested, I’d like you and Tori to meet me there tomorrow night at sundown.”
“Of course,” LeAnne said before she allowed herself to overthink. “I’d like to see it.”
“Excellent. I believe this could be very profitable for both of us.”
Jonas rapped the table with his knuckles. “If you’re done with the boring stuff, I’m taking the new girl downstairs to show her the basics.”
LeAnne opened her mouth to speak but a wide-eyed Tori beat her to it. “Basics of what?”
Jonas smiled a sinful grin that made even LeAnne blush. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. It’s nothing I haven’t already shown you.”
“Just go.” Michael grunted. “And I think it’s best if LeAnne stays at the bar. I need to speak privately with Tori.” He looked across the table at LeAnne. “If you are comfortable on your own for a few minutes, of course.”
LeAnne nodded even though she wasn’t entirely comfortable alone in the dark, jam-packed club. “I’m going with Jonas. He’ll protect me.”
Tori gave her a stone-faced glare.
She laughed, hoping to ease whatever bugged her friend. When that didn’t help, she smiled. “I’ll be fine. You do your thing, and I’ll be downstairs.”
“Thank you, LeAnne.” Michael slid out of the booth and pulled Tori out behind him. She didn’t argue when he led her away, but she didn’t look happy either.
“I haven’t seen Tori look at anyone like that in a while.” Jonas was suddenly standing with a hand held out to her.
Apparently, he’d moved in the few seconds she’d averted her attention to watch Michael and Tori leave, but LeAnne hadn’t felt him move from beside her. Creepy.
She grabbed his hand and let him help her to her feet. “I know. What is going on with you two?”
He cocked an eyebrow at her and shook his head slowly. “Nothing. I have a mate.”
Mm-hm. Like having another woman ever stopped a man from cheating, LeAnne thought, but she let it slide. There was no need to make him defensive. Eventually, Tori would spill the truth.
Jonas motioned toward the staircase with an old-fashioned flourish of the hand and bow of the head. “After you.”
LeAnne walked a few steps ahead of him. Before she made it to the stairs, she felt a tingle on the back of her neck that slithered down her spine. Slowly, her brain registered that what it felt like—a cold finger tracing down her spine that moved from the base of her skull to the depth of the plunge in the back of her dress. Her head jerked around instinctively.
Jonas smiled down at her. “Nice dress.”
“Uh…thanks.” LeAnne turned and kept walking, though a little faster this time. She rolled her shoulders and persevered, ignoring her instincts to make him walk ahead. He didn’t appear to have jerked his hand back, but it had sure felt like Jonas was touching her. Maybe he had touched her, but her mind wasn’t going there. There was no doubt Jonas was hot, but he had someone. Plus, something was going on between him and Tori, something Michael was probably talking to her about right now. LeAnne didn’t want to get in the middle of that dangerous love triangle.
Wait, LeAnne thought, if Jonas already had a girl, then wouldn’t that make it a love square? Either way, those two men would probably tear each other apart if Tori kept pushing. If that time came, they’d take everyone else down with them, and the last thing LeAnne needed was more man-drama in her life.
* * * *
As Dorian approached the tender, he caught the sweet, clean scent of that woman again. The aroma led his attention to the leftmost end of the black and chrome bar where the petite brunette stood in front of the bar talking to a white-haired immortal who very much resembled the Jonas he’d met so long ago, except spookier. He’d spent the last half-hour waiting and listening in on the conversation she’d had with Michael.
He sighed. Only he would find a female so perfectly suited to his taste during the mother of all fucked-up situations. He could take her and turn her, but there was no guarantee he would survive it all long enough to teach her anything. Then the elders would kill her or take her in, which was worse than death most of the time. It would be selfish and irresponsible, two things he tried not to be.
Dorian stood behind a crowd of chattering girls to observe his prey. LeAnne was perfect: round hips, tiny waist, and generous breasts. Her pale legs were perched above tall, shiny black stripper heels. She had the physique for the occupation, but she wasn’t one of them. He could tell by the way her shoulder-length, smooth brown hair was cut more like that of a politician’s wife than the big hair of the so-called exotic dancers. Moreover, her makeup was subtle and tasteful, unlike most of the women in the club who wore layer upon layer of color, fake lashes, and fake nails. With the exception of her clothes, she looked like a banker or attorney. One thing was certain: she definitely wasn’t the average club-hopping tramp.
The Jonas lookalike glanced in his direction. Dorian shook himself from his thoughts and veered right. He sighed at his own lack of subtlety. Hunger was driving him to amateur mistakes. To correct his slip, Dorian slid onto a black and steel stool at a high table between two human girls who barely noticed him. These days he scarcely had to think about the fact that he wanted anonymity to make humans oblivious to his presence. In the early days, that had taken much more concentration, but time had honed that particular skill. He’d even learned how to keep others immortals from seeing him; in the right conditions, he could blend into the shadows. It was a handy gift for someone in his line of work, and he was thankful to the Creator for blessing him even in damnation.
He could also hear things even other immortals couldn’t, and that came in handy in situations like this. Dorian trained his ear toward them. Slowly, the other voices and sounds disappeared until he heard the human’s sweet voice in stereo.
“I’m sorry, Jonas,” she said. “I’m not sure I can learn this all as fast as Michael hopes.”
“You will,” the vampire said to her. “But you won’t be running the club alone or even the bar. There are decent staff members at most of his clubs. I’m only working here tonight because we’re short-staffed. Jude has a stomach virus.”
He paused, as if there was more that he wasn’t saying. Dorian guessed it was that Jude was a vampire and couldn’t get stomach viruses, but he could be wrong.
The human laughed nervously. “Glad you guys have so much faith in me.”
The sound of her laugh brought a smile to Dorian’s lips. It lasted for just a second before he focused again.
“You’ll do fine,” the vampiro said. “Now, I’ve got drinks to deliver.”
“Need help?”
“Nah. We’ll manage. Take th
is and park yourself at a table upstairs until Tori finishes. Order anything you want on the house, and buzz me if any assholes bother you.”
LeAnne took a pink-filled martini glass from him. “Thanks, Jonas.”
Ah. She had ties to Michael. That would make Dorian’s job that much easier. If he played his cards right, he could have decent blood to drink while he worked his way into the padrone’s inner circle. The vamp nodded, and LeAnne headed upstairs with her glass in hand. This time, the bouncer moved to let her pass. Dorian had a feeling the earlier display had been because of Tori.
He watched her wander onto the balcony. It was just the opportunity Dorian had waited for. When she found a seat and was alone for a few moments, he slid off his stool and weaved his way toward the staircase leading to the upper level. Closer, he caught the scent of the guy guarding the stairs. The bouncer was definitely immortal.
Dorian concentrated on that power inside him and waved a subtle hand toward the right. The guard looked in that direction, just as planned, then away from his post in that direction. It looked like a Jedi move, but the hand movements just helped his focus with supernatural beings.
He darted toward his prey, taking the steps two at a time.
Chapter Three
Dorian hustled up the stairs and onto the Dark Shadows-style V.I.P. balcony. He slowed and moved to LeAnne’s table, where she sat with her back turned to him, sipping her drink. Standing there, he had no idea how to approach her. His mind was blank as a new journal. It wasn’t like he didn’t have game. He did, but he generally also had persuasive powers that helped ease the tension. This time, he had to go easy on the mojo or the others would get suspicious.
He slipped into a seat at the table next to her to think. Then he concentrated on that power inside him again and put out the vibe that no one was at his table. Then he went further, making them think there was no need to so much as look in that direction because there was nothing interesting to see. When he was certain his distraction worked, he kicked back and rubbed his chin between his thumb and forefinger, deciding what to do.
Dorian Page 3
