Page 25 of Tempted


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“Jesus, Bailey. Do you hear yourself? I’m not running a massage parlor for Chrissake. You’ve done a good job, and I needed the help. Shadowing you verifies I didn’t fuck up by making that decision. I brought you home because I don’t want problems at the club. That’s it. That’s all. End of,” I say, growing more irritated with every second. “Now go inside and get some sleep because tomorrow is a new day, and it’s a busy one.”

She shuffles back and forth on her feet, looking unsure. Good. She should. If she were any one of my other employees, she’d be let go after essentially accusing me of quid pro quo.

Turning toward her apartment, she takes two steps before turning back around. “Thank you. And . . . I’m sorry if I upset you. I didn’t mean to imply you are inappropriate. I just . . .” She stops talking, shaking her head. “I appreciate everything you’ve done.” With those words, she leaves me there to watch her disappear through the door.

I run my hands down my face, suddenly exhausted. Much of what I said to Bailey was the truth, but so much of it was bullshit too. I have been giving her too much attention, and I have been thinking about her too much. For all the wrong reasons. Tonight, I need to get some sleep, and tomorrow, I need to figure out a way to work alongside Bailey without wanting more. She needs this job, and based on the work ethic I witnessed tonight, Silver needs her.

I can’t fuck this up.

All fucking night, I thought about Bailey, despite my intentions to expel her from my mind. I didn’t sleep, and now I sit at my desk wholly drained and frustrated as hell. The woman has me twisted in knots, and my head’s a mess.

I’ve watched her all night from my one-sided tower, coming and going from room to room and expertly handling a couple of high-tops as well. Every guy in the place lusts after her, causing my blood to boil, and I want to strangle them all. That’s the same reaction I want from my patrons. The better connected to their server, the more time they’ll spend, which leads to more money for the girls and Silver. Yet with Bailey, I don’t want a single one of their eyes roaming her body like they do.

It’s infuriating. And completely foreign. I’ve never given a fuck about guys looking at my girls—including those on my arm. The thought of them envying me for what I had only ever made me stand taller.

I want to hide Bailey away from it all. Shelter her. Protect her.

You don’t owe her this. She’s just a girl.

A beautiful fucking disaster of a girl.

A girl I need to help. A girl who reminds me of someone I couldn’t save.

12

Bailey

I avoid Drew like the plague. After last night’s ride home, I’m feeling stupid. I’d all but assumed he was coming onto me. Maybe he was, but who calls out their boss like that? Thankfully, I’ve been busy all night, and Drew’s been MIA.

Another plus? Reese and his crew of douche canoes haven’t shown their faces tonight. As much as I like their tips, a night without their incessant grabbing and nasty come-ons is welcome. I rifle through my money bag and see that it was yet another great night. I check the time and sigh in relief when I see I only have an hour until last call.

“Bailey, another high-top just sat down. Two girls and a guy. I put them in your section,” Monica says, smiling. Although something’s off about that smile. She looks more deranged than pleasant.

“Thanks?” I say, not really sure what’s up with her.

As I walk toward the section where the high-tops are positioned, my eye catches on Carter, who’s waving his hands frantically in the air, eyes wide and head shaking violently. What the hell?

I lift my hand, holding up a finger to signal that I’d come see him as soon as I grabbed my new table’s order. As much as I love talking to Carter, he’s overly dramatic at times. The customers who sit in the bar seats all night consistently create stories for our entertainment. Carter always gets excited when he has a new one.

I chuckle at the thought as I make my way over to the table.

“Hi guys, what’ll it be?” I look at my customers and my entire body goes taut.

“Bailey?” My sister’s shrill voice runs down my spine, and my entire body runs cold.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

Now she is yelling, and every head within earshot turns their attention toward us, causing me to shrink in place.

“L-Let me explain,” I say, holding up my hand, trying to get her to calm down and stop making a scene.

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