Katya was filled to the brim, but that was normal. Friday night was always insane. They’d booked a DJ, so the crowd was especially hyped up. Neon lights flashing everywhere. Shot glasses glowing in the dark, being carried around the place.
They had ultraprivate boxes where people didn’t know they existed unless they were in the club with the lights on, or they were in one of the boxes. Then they had entire private floors, and the high rollers went there. They got their own bartenders, their own dance girls, their own shot girls. Then there were the VIPs, and I had no clue what they got because I’d never been allowed up there. I liked Katya, for the most part. I knew there were parts of it that were shady, but so far I hadn’t had anything happen smack in front of my face. The biggest issue was if a parolee came in, not knowing I had a second job here, and I had to notify their PO, just in case. I enjoyed it as much as they did.
“Your girl is doing good.” One of the new bartenders came over—Justin.
I looked where he was looking and saw Kelly circling a booth with her tray. I’d been watching her, too, and he was right. She knew how to smile to engage the customer but step back and evade when necessary. I was guessing Anthony had put an extra couple security guys around the floor she was working because there’d been two customers who’d ignored her rebuff and tried to grab her. The guys had moved in right away, and I mean, they were there even before Kelly could blink. They were fast tonight, not taking any bullshit.
“She’s done this work before, but I’m protective.”
He nodded.
He’d started working here a couple weekends ago. Anthony had asked me to train him one of the nights, but it wasn’t necessary. He’d been a natural, so I wasn’t surprised he’d been moved to Friday nights already. Trim but built with defined shoulders, chest, and arms. He had a quick grin and golden-brown curls on top that I’d witnessed more than a few girls sighing over, and he was nice. Plus funny. He was already a favorite over some of the other guys behind the counter. Customers knew where to go, who were the asses and who weren’t. Justin was popular.
“I’m surprised you had time to come over here.” I nodded at the customers waiting for him to get their drinks.
He flashed a grin my way. If I could’ve seen better from the lighting, it looked like he was blushing a little. Maybe? I couldn’t tell. He leaned closer, quieting his voice but still loud so I could hear him. “I’m wondering if your girl is single?”
I stepped back, giving him another once-over, but more intentional this time.
He braced himself, taking a breath and holding it.
“You’re single?”
His head lowered, some shyness coming over him. “I am.” He nodded toward the girls behind him. “That’s work. I never dip where I work, but . . .” His gaze went back to Kelly, and I saw it then. A full glaze came over him.
He was a goner for her.
And Kelly with how she was . . . I scowled at him. “You fuck her over, I will destroy you.”
He jerked his gaze back to me, his eyes widening for a second. He blinked, a wariness edged in, but I still saw the determination shining through. “That’s not the plan. I’m not that guy. I mean it.”
I was going to regret this, but I nodded. “She’s single.”
That was it. That was all the opening I was giving him. No way was I going to let him know she was a romantic and tended to fall quickly. If he was worth his word, he’d figure that out and proceed with caution. Or the ultimate respect.
He dipped his head a little. “Thanks, Jess.”
He was leaving as Anthony was zeroing in on us.
Our manager pushed around the customers waiting for me, frowning at me and Justin talking, but jerked his head to the side. When he added a lone finger wave, I knew he meant business. The funny thing about Anthony was that his outsides were all smooth and slick. Dark-black hair slicked back. His face was always manscaped to perfection. Smooth skin. Full lips. I swear he used a ChapStick a day. He was maybe five ten. One eighty. He kept himself trim. Silk shirts, half-unbuttoned. Soft trousers. Loafers. But his insides were stressed. He always seemed worked up and tight about something. I’d learned to half enjoy it.
I frowned but moved to the side so he could lean over better to talk to me.
“I need you in VIP tonight.”
I leaned back to make sure I heard him right. “What?” I’d never been up there. I didn’t even know where to go.
He nodded upstairs. “Don’t say anything, just go in and stay behind the bar. These are VIP, so keep your mouth shut, smile, and don’t act up.”
I bristled because what the fuck did he mean by “act up”?
He let out a deep breath before counting to five. Not ten. Five. “These guys are important. My normal girls are gone, and I know these two.” He glanced in Justin’s direction before adding, “Do not fuck this up.”
“I’ve been working for you for four years. When have I ever fucked up?”
His eyes were shining bright, fiercely. “I’m not talking about drinks.”
Oh, snap. Not a fan of his right now, but I kept my mouth shut and listened when he told me where to go. I was assuming the VIP section was fully stocked, and when he stopped giving me instructions, I headed off. I gave Kelly a last cursory look, and she seemed fine. Justin had moved down a little, but he remained close enough to overhear I was being sent off, and he moved to help cover my area. “I’ll watch her.”
Normally I’d make a comment about how that’s what I was afraid of, but not this time. Justin seemed sincere, and my gut was saying he was already in love, but there wasn’t much I could do about anything, so I headed toward the locker area. I freshened up a bit, readjusted my uniform, which was a tight black top, and because I was in the bartender section, I was able to wear black pants. They looked dressy, but they felt like yoga pants.
Once I was done, I went off for the mysterious VIP section.
This one was on the sixth floor. I’d gone up as far as the fourth, but not the fifth or sixth.
Going to the only elevator that allowed entry for those floors, I saw the bouncer reach for his radio. A second later, Anthony’s voice came over. “She’s good. Sixth floor. Get her situated, Monty.”
Monty. I half grinned, but seeing the wall on his face, I didn’t feel like sharing that my last name was Montell and I’d been called Monty in grade school. This Monty didn’t seem to care.
He hit the button. The elevator arrived, and he got on with me.
He had to put in a special code for the elevator. I memorized it, just in case.
When we got to the floor, he led the way.
It was a simple layout. Three doors. He pointed out the first to the right. “Your bathroom.”
I nodded, noting the your emphasis.
The door on the left was labeled STAIRS, so that was self-explanatory.
The middle door opened to a large apartment-like floor. He motioned to the bar area, and I went right behind, starting to find where all the bottles were kept. There was a phone. I saw the instructions and knew I would use that to order more inventory. “I call down for bottle service?”
He nodded before moving through the place and going into the rooms. He came back, settling by the bar. “These guys are big, but they’re respectable. If you want to fuck ’em, you can, but you don’t have to. They aren’t like that.”
Jesus. Yeah. This place definitely had some shade. “I’m not like that, in any situation.”
He barely nodded my way, watching for the door. “It’s usually the case where the girls want them, not the other way, not with these guys, but you do you. I’m security for the floor, just in case.”
In case of what?
We waited thirty minutes. Nothing.
Another thirty. Nothing.
Two hours later, an hour before the club was supposed to close, Monty’s radio crackled to life.
I’d taken to sitting on the counter with my phone out, dwelling on the loss of tips. Monty was doing the same, and not a word was spoken between us. I didn’t think Monty cared. I knew I didn’t. He popped in his earpiece and nodded to me. “They’re coming.”
He went to the door and propped it open.
The elevator pinged its arrival. The doors slid open, and instead of laughter or shouting, which was the norm for this place, there was nothing.
A male came inside, looking at his phone before he gave me an absentminded look, but he did a double take, seeing me, and he ground to a halt.
I frowned, not knowing this guy, but he was gorgeous. Dark features. Black hair. Nearly black eyes. He was sleek and toned, and the air rippled around him, exuding he was dangerous and powerful. This guy was not one to mess around with, and I braced myself before all of his gaze was fixed on me. Those eyes sharpened, and a smirk showed before he half turned for the second guy coming in behind him.
“Someone fucked up,” he said, addressing the other man before I saw who he was.
“What?”
I sucked in air, my whole body freezing, because . . .
I knew that voice. And as he came forward, stepping around his friend, I was pierced by those same eyes that had haunted me over the last week.
It was him.
And he was staring back at me in shock, but also some anger.
He was not happy to see me.
