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“Her friends bought her… a gift voucher.”
I narrow my eyes. “We do those?”
“Yes, Mr. Petrov, for special clients.”
Special clients. I don’t like the sound of that.
I also don’t like the idea that someone could have their hands all over Imogen Anderson. Now she has a name, it’s way more personal.
Her name suits her perfectly.
“What else do you know?” I demand.
I know I can just look this up myself in my office, but she knows what I’m asking.
“I… I don’t know yet, Sir. She’s filling in the menu as we speak.”
I grunt.
Menu? My blood boils.
“And this is her first time on this side of the club?”
“Yes, Sir.” If she shows any signs that she’s intrigued by my sudden questioning and outburst, she hides it well. This is why she’s my manager.
Everything we do here is handled discreetly.
“Very well.”
Aside from storming in there for no good reason —, other than the fact I don’t want another man touching her —, I know what I need to do.
I don’t do this with clients. I’ve never done this before. I like to stay fairly incognito so the staff don’t get too used to me being around. Not that ethics have ever been my strong suit. If it were, I wouldn’t be here right now.
“How long until her…” I can’t say the words.
“Three days. This coming Friday night,” Margaret confirms, standing behind the desk.
I pull on the lapels of my jacket, composing myself as Margaret flicks her eyes back to her computer screen.
I go to leave. Then an idea hits me.
“Oh, Margaret? One more thing,” I add over my shoulder before the door closes behind me.
“Yes, Sir?”
“I want a copy of her menu and questionnaire emailed to me after she leaves, please.”
It’s highly unethical, not to mention a violation of our privacy policy, but I’m the boss. I can do whatever I want.
“Of course, Mr. Petrov,” she says, like we’re discussing the weather.She has no reaction whatsoever; one of the reasons I hired her is she’s discreet.
“Good.” I leave the room, straightening my tie as I head to the office.
I crack my neck to save from turning around to talk Imogen out of doing this.
Giving herself up so easily.
A fucking gift voucher? I need to review policy. I also need to make sure that nobody gets to fulfill Imogen Anderson’s menu requests.
