by W Winters
“Scarlet told you that?”
“Yes.” She also told me shorter was better, but maybe I didn’t go short enough. Scarlet and Angela are both wearing shorter dresses than I am. Or maybe, as the new girl, I’m supposed to wear something longer. “Is my dress okay?”
Declan stares me in the eye. “Red means you’d like to be fucked.”
Shock blanks out my mind in a cold realization, followed by embarrassment. There’s a rushing sound in my ears that won’t go away. People have seen me, up there in the club. I’ve been waiting tables. Every man who smiled at me thought I was offering to come downstairs with him. “Excuse me?”
Declan smirks at me, setting the die down. “I imagine Scarlet didn’t tell you that.”
“She didn’t.” My nerves react with anxiousness. “And that is not why I wore this—” I swallow a burst of fear. “I’m not—” before I can explain myself, he cuts me off.
“From now on, I’d like you to wear black. Don’t ever wear red again.” Declan narrows his eyes. “But you can keep the lipstick. If anyone asks for you tonight, inform them that the boss has requested you. Is that understood?”
It’s quiet as I stare at him, taking in every word he’s said as if it’s a drug. It’s an order. He’s so commanding with his tone that it makes my knees go weak. Scarlet didn’t tell me everything there was to know about The Club. She might be wrong about what Declan wants too. If he’s requesting me now …
“Say ‘yes, sir,” he prompts.
“Yes, sir.”
His brow furrows like I’ve upset him somehow. It’s not an expression I recognize from when I used to know him. He used to be soft and gentle. A good kid. Now there’s a hardness to every detail of his expression. Life hasn’t been kind to him. It’s made him tougher. His eyes darken as he watches me in my red dress that he disapproves of. “No one touches you,” he says.
“I—”
I’m interrupted from questioning him when his phone rings. Declan takes one look at the screen and puts it to his ear. “Yes,” he says, his eyes still on me. I let out a breath. This is my cue to leave, my skin still prickling with a cautious unease. I shouldn’t listen in on his calls. He’s still on the phone as I turn to leave and grant him privacy.
“Braelynn.” My name in his voice stops me with a shiver, the door halfway open with my hand gripping the frame. I turn back. Declan leans on his desk, in control and at ease with the situation. “It’s good to see you.”
My heart does that flip again. This time it hurts a bit more.
“It’s good to see you too, Declan.”
Rushing the words out, I move as quickly as I can. I shut the door behind me a second before my knees give out. My body sags against the deep red door, heart hammering. I can’t catch my breath.
Declan Cross.
Being in the same room with him was nothing like I expected. He remembered me.
I didn’t know he would look like that. His eyes feel like they’re burning through the door even now, but I can’t bring myself to stand upright.
Each command he gave repeats in my mind as I attempt to steady myself.
I’d like you to wear black. Don’t ever wear red again.
Inform them that the boss has requested you.
It’s a long moment before I can stand tall and straighten my dress once again. Every step takes me farther from his office, but I can feel him down there, as if something is calling for me, pulling me, tempting me and luring me back down to a place I can’t imagine ever being again.
Declan
Dark brown eyes and deep red lips flicker through my mind all night.
My fingers itch to grip her bare skin, lift her skirt up and toy with her. My cock aches, hard and desperate for relief at the thought of leaving marks on her ass. Spanking, whipping, fucking her deep and brutal.
A low groan leaves me, hating that I can’t stop watching the cameras. Not for business, just for her. Every man who glances down the top of her red satin dress might as well be begging for me to cut their fucking throats.
She will never wear that color again.
My door opens without a knock. I don’t have to look up to know it’s Jase. Taking in a steadying breath, I rip my gaze away from Braelynn’s curves and will my erection to knock it the fuck off.
Luckily, my brother’s statement is helpful in that department. “We’ve been given the list of potential leaks and it includes your girl.”
“My girl?” The back of my neck heats at what he’s said, and if my expression gives away the fear, he doesn’t seem to notice.
“Scarlet Miller,” Jase states while taking a seat in the high-back chair across from my desk. He leans forward, his fingers steepled and his elbows resting on the desk. “There’s a good chance she’s the leak.”
Heat dances along my skin. She referred Braelynn; she’s close to her. My pulse quickens.
My objection leaves me without hesitation. “She’s been here over a year.”
Jase nods, opting to lean back in the chair, his thumb tapping on the armrest. “You know how they operate. It takes time before they slip.”
I nod, meeting my brother’s gaze but not liking it.
“Do you think it’s just one?” I question, my gaze begging me to look back at the cameras, back at Braelynn as if simply seeing her will give me a yes or no to the question burning in the back of my mind.
Is she an undercover agent? Is she here to set me up?
Both God and the devil know she’s a weakness for me.
Jase shrugs a heavy shoulder. “That’s what we need you to focus on.”
“Consider it done,” I tell him.
“Do we already have surveillance?” he asks.
“Not outside of The Club. I’ll set it up.” Focusing on Miss Miller alone keeps my head clear. We’ll install surveillance and trackers on her car, her phone and her residence. Everything. “It won’t take long.”
“We have to know what she has on us,” Jase speaks and I nod, going over every step from the previous times we’ve dealt with someone who’s snitched. It never ends well for them.
“Scarlet, though?” I question him again, narrowing my eyes as I tilt my head.
“That’s what it seems like. If not her, it’s someone else here. The books were mentioned.”
A tension runs through my body. We can get away with murder easily enough, but money laundering is far more difficult.
Clearing my throat, I tell him, “I see.”
“If history is anything to go by, they’ll look into the numbers.”
My mind slips back to Braelynn as I tell my brother, “We’ll find a way to flush them out.”
My brother drones on, his voice turning to white noise as I watch the cameras and in them see Scarlet with her hand on Braelynn’s back.
There’s a sinking feeling in my chest, one that weighs my breath down, making it harder to focus, harder to think of anything other than the possibility that she’s come here to ruin me.
With my thumb resting on my bottom lip, I will her to answer me the question. Did you come here to destroy me, Braelynn?
I remember her well, the girl I used to know. But we all change, don’t we.
“I’ll get to the bottom of it,” I tell Jase, dragging my gaze away from her. “Whoever it is, they won’t be a problem for long.”
The hours drift by slowly. Jase forwarded the report he paid an officer for when he got word there was someone on the inside. It pays to have the higher-ups in your back pocket.
All we need to do is stay one step ahead of them. They may have someone watching us, but we have dozens watching them.
The black and white text on the computer screen has stared back at me, taunting me and every move I’ve made since opening the doors to The Club. According to the report, they need evidence before getting approval for a bust. The feds have an estimated timeline of six months. Which means Scarlet, and any other witnesses, need to be long gone by then so their testimony is irrel
evant and, in that time, we can’t slip up.
There’s not a doubt in my mind it’s a waitress here who’s given the information in this report. There are details about deals that have gone down exclusively in the dining room upstairs. No one makes a move without our approval and the money that’s been exchanged is well documented.
Running my hand through my hair, I lean back and take a deep breath.
It’s all hearsay at this point, no proof. If there’s no hard evidence, they have to rely on witnesses. Which begs the question, which one of them is it?
A whisper tickles the back of my mind. Is Braelynn involved? I don’t believe in coincidences and the timing isn’t on her side. Scarlet was around for every one of the documented testimonies in this report. And Braelynn is guilty by association.
That doesn’t explain why I flick back over to the monitor, watching her tempting curves as she leans over the bar counter, reaching for a cocktail napkin.
A deep groan resonates in the back of my throat.
It’s late. The singer this evening is already gone, leaving a lone mic on the stage.
Three a.m. is only minutes away, and most of the waitresses have left with their chosen date for the evening. Scarlet’s laid over the lap of a man she’s been with more than once.
I don’t ask details. I don’t involve myself in what the women do. What my employees choose to do after hours is their business, not mine.
Although it doesn’t hurt my bottom line.
Clicking through the cameras, I account for each and every one of the patrons and employees.
All is well, with one exception. There is a table of three men, one of them eyeing Braelynn. Heat pricks up the back of my neck. She’s already told them the boss requested her.
They’ve already paid their bill.
Smiles and laughter may accompany their table, but the two drunkest can’t seem to drag the third away. The one requesting the napkin from Braelynn.
I could sit here and watch on the cameras. I can already see it playing out in a number of ways.
She denies the man again, and they leave, easy enough.
She denies them and they don’t leave, in which case, my security escorts them out. They’re already watching just as I am.
Those are the only two possibilities. Yet I find myself rising from my chair, my jaw clenched as I push open my door, not bothering to lock it. I take the stairs two at a time, shoving open the dining room door.
I’m not in control, I’m not even thinking.
There is no reason whatsoever that when I see her smile kindly, shaking her head politely and without a hint of distress and the man in question drops his head and raises his hands, his friends laughing easily … there’s not a reason in the world that this anger should rise inside me. This building fire.
Except that she already told them she was mine.
I heard on the fucking cameras.
He already knew. She fucking told them. Whether or not they believed her isn’t my problem.
“Boss.” My security’s call for me comes just before the sound of cursing and a picked-up pace from the men at my back.
The men are unsuspecting as Braelynn shies back just slightly.
With the skin stretched tight over my knuckles, turning white and blazing with a heat that’s untamed, my fist lands against his jaw.
Surprising every one of them. Braelynn gasps, scooting back against a chair and nearly falling. The two men standing gape at me, their hands up as their friend lies lifeless on the floor.
“She said no.” I barely get the words out, my chest heaving and my vision turning red.
Braelynn
My eyes are rimmed red and burn with exhaustion, but I can’t bring myself to go into the bedroom yet. It’s pitch black this late at night and far too quiet. My mind isn’t quiet, though. It’s running in circles around the night I’ve just had at The Club. My knee rocks absently as I think about my first day … well, really all I can think about is Declan Cross.
Even when my phone pings, I think it will be him offering me an explanation of what happened. I’ve never been so close to a fight like that. If you can even call it a fight. That man didn’t have a chance in hell. Declan strode in, knocked him out and stormed out as if nothing had happened. I was stunned to say the least, and if security hadn’t escorted me out, I would probably still be standing there wondering what the hell had happened.
Checking my phone, it’s not Declan.
Scarlet: Hey, you …
I’m curled up on my couch under a knitted blanket I brought from my mother’s, and for a moment I consider not answering her. I need to talk to someone, though.
Braelynn: Hey.
I just got home a little after 4:00 a.m., and I feel like I barely survived.
Scarlet: You okay?
I try to keep telling myself that nothing much even happened, other than the last two minutes. Even if I discounted that, the office meeting with Declan was intimidating to say the least. Declan isn’t the boy I remember. I’m sure none of the Cross brothers are the way I remember, but I didn’t realize he would be so different. I didn’t know he would be so powerful, and so sexy, and …
Braelynn: I could be better. I think I’m in over my head.
My thoughts don’t stop. It’s like my mind is running faster than I can process. The whole situation escalated before I could stop it. And the waitresses have sex with people in those rooms on the lower floor. It’s not just one warning sign, it’s a big row of red flags. They scream at me to run away.
Braelynn: I could not have anticipated tonight.
Staring down at my phone, I wonder how that’s all I have to say. Maybe I’m still overwhelmed by everything.
Scarlet: It’s a lot but it’s worth it. Really. It might be rough at first, but I think you pretty much got the full gist of everything all at once.
I’m dumbstruck at Scarlet’s response. That shit isn’t normal. Rubbing my eyes, I let my head fall back as I cringe at the thought. What happened today does not exist in the world I live in.
Fistfights. Paid sex. Declan Cross.
I think about telling her I’m done. I even type out the text. Thanks so much for getting me the job, but I can’t go back. I’m in the process of deleting it when Scarlet sends another message.
Scarlet: I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about the red dresses. It’s not always a hard and fast rule and I didn’t want to freak you out!
With everything that took place, I can’t even be mad about the red dress. Nothing happened.
Braelynn: It’s okay, it just caught me by surprise. A heads-up would have been nice though.
Scarlet: I really am sorry. Are you okay? Feeling good about your next shift?
Maybe I’m overreacting because of the stress and the adrenaline.
Braelynn: Tonight was a lot.
I expected a busy night learning the ropes at a new place. I didn’t expect Declan Cross. I didn’t expect him to get in a fistfight over me. And I definitely didn’t expect the red dresses and what comes with them.
Scarlet: The Club is a lot but … it pays well. I forgot to ask you how you made out?
My gaze drifts to my purse, hanging over the staircase to my right. There’s at least a grand in cash. I haven’t counted yet, but it’s far more than I anticipated. It’s more than I could have even dreamed, I know that.
The side pocket of my purse is bulging with all the bills inside.
Braelynn: You were right about the money. I don’t think I could get better tips anywhere else in the city.
Scarlet: See! I told you! So it’s all good? Forgive me for the red dress and let’s become rich bitches together!
Although I huff a small laugh and feel the first touch of relief since I left, I just can’t shake how Declan made me feel. I felt sorry for him. Curious about how he’d become that man. And if I’m honest with myself, I felt scared too. Power bows around him in his office and in The Club, and every time he looked at me, he
made it clear that I had none.
Braelynn: I’m good. Declan is intense.
Scarlet: Did he hurt you??
Her question takes me aback, I even flinch at it. Until I remember the punch. Maybe he’s … maybe he’s just like that.
Braelynn: No. Should I be worried that he would?
Scarlet: I’ve never heard of any woman getting hurt. Not in the club and not by him. But what do you mean by intense? That guy? He should have listened when you said no the first time.
I type then delete. Type then delete. It’s frustrating because so much of it is simply how I feel. How do I explain this to her? This overwhelming feeling like something bad is going to happen. Something that leaves me powerless and at the mercy of a man who doesn’t seem to know what that word means.
Braelynn: He didn’t hurt me. I just … I used to know him. Sort of.
Scarlet: How?
Braelynn: Long story, too much to text.
I unfold myself from the couch and make my way to the small kitchen. My bare feet pad on the laminate floor.
The layout for the first floor is simple enough. I could walk circles in the townhouse. There’s a bathroom and coat closet in the center with their doors on the right. Dining room in the back, hallway on the right with a staircase, living room in the front, and kitchen on the left.
Boxes are lined up in every room. As I wait for leftover pasta to heat in the microwave, I walk through the dining room that doesn’t even have a table yet, down the hallway, trailing my fingers along the wall and running over the closet door and then the bathroom door, past the staircase, into the living room as my phone pings. I ignore it and circle back to the kitchen.
My new place is simple, just like the leftover pasta. It’s hardly enough to appease my appetite, but it’ll be enough to sleep at least. Opening the fridge door offers a stream of light, and the sight of an empty fridge apart from a bottle of creamer for my coffee.
With a sigh, I shut the door and then consider opening up a cardboard box I know has nonperishables in it. Pushing the hair out of my face, I decide not to do anything else. I need to sleep, not rearrange my kitchen at nearly five in the freaking morning.
