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‘I don’t.’ I swallowed as the performance continued to send electric bolts right through me. My head swam, and I needed to get back on track.
Clearing my throat, I turned to face the man and managed not to trip over my jaw at the sight of him. He was like something out of a wet dream. All dark hair and piercing blue eyes. Eyes that made me want to shrivel away from him and reach out to touch him at the same time.
I was unable to do either.
A smirk turned up the corner of his mouth while his eyes flicked down over my corset.
It could only be one man from Ruby’s descriptions: Ewen McGowan. The asshole owner of The Loft, and my boss for the duration of my filling-in. Ruby had waxed lyrical about what a total dick-wad he was, but she’d failed to mention how panty-meltingly attractive he’d be.
‘I… uh… was just… um.’ My cheeks heated as I stumbled over my words. I gave up trying and shoved the papers at him, flinching when his fingers brushed my hand.
‘Are you okay?’ he asked, raising an eyebrow a fraction as those icy eyes held me captive. ‘You seem… out of sorts.’
‘Yup. I’m good. Grand. Absolutely great.’ Backing up, I tried to put my Ruby face back in place, accidentally bumping into another patron. I turned and apologised before fleeing back into the main club room.
For the rest of the evening, I couldn’t help but look out for Ewen, both hoping for a glimpse of him and praying not to see him. I stuck to getting drinks, helping clients get private rooms, and keeping my head out of the water. The night left me in a spin. There was no downtime for me to reflect on what I was supposed to be doing, so I just stuck it out and hoped for the best until, at long last, the night was over. My feet ached and my eyes burned by the time I made it home.
It was going to be a hell of a long six weeks.
SEVEN
EWEN
I’d never felt blind hatred for someone I liked before, but seeing Alfie flirting with Ruby brought it firing through my veins.
What the fuck was wrong with me? I didn’t even like Ruby. She was vain, blunt, and irritating. If Alfie wanted to get it on with her, it shouldn’t have bothered me. The hair rising on the back of my neck told me that some irrational part of me cared.
The whole week, something had been off about Ruby. She was quieter, and oddly wide-eyed at the goings on around her. She’d worked in my club long enough to have seen it all before. I’d heard her physically whimper at one point and been unable to rid my mind of the delectable little noise for days.
It felt like she was intentionally screwing with me.
I already had my hands full dealing with whoever was messing with our supply chain coming into Scotland; the last thing I needed was some jumped-up pain in the arse causing trouble at my club—my safe space, a place that was mine.
Alfie joined me at the bar and gave me one of his cocky grins. ‘That Ruby is a bit special, eh?’
‘Don’t fuck my staff, Alfie,’ I said, sounding angrier than I meant to. He narrowed his eyes at me before his grin grew even wider.
‘You like her, huh? And here I was beginning to think you were celibate.’
‘It’s not that. Just can’t be arsed with the tears when you fuck them and leave them hanging.’ Reaching behind the bar, I pulled out a bottle of whisky and two glasses, pouring us both a generous amount.
‘I’ve never had any complaints. I might not call them, but I leave them thoroughly satisfied.’ Alfie took a seat on a stool, facing out toward the main club room. ‘But you do like her. You didn’t stop glaring at me the entire time I spoke to her.’
‘Just leave it.’
Alfie held up a hand in mock surrender, but his eyes still gleamed in the way they did when he was up to no good. ‘I’m just saying that she’s a pretty girl who’s practically a puddle at everything going on around her. You’re an attractive guy with an absolute boner for her. Why the fuck not? What are you holding out for?’
Ignoring his words completely, I downed the last of the fiery amber liquid in my glass.
I tried my best to keep my eyes anywhere but on Ruby for the remainder of the night.
To pretend I didn’t notice the way she blushed when a girl tongued a man’s boot as he chatted to friends.
That I didn’t hear a wistful sigh when the hiss of a whip met a man’s flesh.
That I wasn’t obsessing over every fucking breath she gave.
It was like an entirely different being had possessed her. What gave?
