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“We need more Goose,” a handsome man slurs at me.
That’s not any old bottle of vodka. That’s Grey Goose Magnum, and it’s a steep eight hundred dollars a bottle. One of my friends back in the day had an infinity for the stuff. These men are clearly wealthy, so I decide to play nice to hopefully garner a fat tip.
“Um, of course. Sorry, I grabbed the wrong bottle of Grey Goose.” I flash my biggest smile at him only to be met with a sneer that quickly turns to something else. His face pales as it goes slack, and he blinks several times, never removing his eyes from mine. Um. Strange.
“Are you okay?” I ask, concerned for the man.
He shakes his head and clears his throat before slipping right back into the asshole he was to start.
“You brought us that cheap shit? Don’t you know who I am, girl? I don’t wait for anyone.” His antics draw laughter and hoots from the other men at his table. “Go fix your error and ask Carter if Monica is available to wait on us.” He dismisses me with a wave of his hand. “Monica knows what we like.”
More laughter follows me out of the VIP room. He’s drunk, I remind myself while trying to hold the anger at bay. It also felt like he was covering up whatever strange reaction he had to me by his over-the-top rudeness.
I don’t need anything from those assholes. There is plenty of money to be made in the place, and if it’s Monica they want, then fine. I’ll find my next paycheck somewhere else in this building.
“Do you know who Monica is?” I ask the first waitress I see. She’s a petite blonde with a pixie cut and enough makeup caked on to last tonight and tomorrow.
“Yeah, she’s in room five right now. Probably giving the geezer a lap dance.” Pixie rolls her eyes. “I’m Darla. You must be Bailey.”
I nod. “Nice to meet you. And seriously? Lap dances?”
“Don’t mind me. I’m jealous. Girl makes bank.” She shrugs. “If you need anything, let me know,” she calls over her shoulder as she walks past me.
I head to room five and practically run into Monica as she exits.
“Excuse me,” she snaps, looking at me like a flea.
I ignore her. “Are you Monica?”
“Yes,” she hisses, sounding equal parts annoyed and bored.
“Room three specifically asked for you.”
She looks at the room and raises her perfectly manicured eyebrow. “You couldn’t handle Reese? He’s a big flirt, but he’s harmless,” she jeers. “I’ll take care of him. Go. And let Carter know we’re switching rooms.”
I turn on my heels to leave.
On my way back to the bar, I stifle a yawn. I’m such a lightweight these days. I check my watch. It’s not even 2:00 a.m., and I’m already exhausted. As I’m doing my best to stay awake, the patrons of the club are in full force party mode.
I throw my towel onto the bar and fling myself onto a stool. “Those guys were real pricks,” I say, Carter raises an eyebrow and follows my gaze to the VIP room I came from. Turning back to me, he shrugs.
“Reese is an ass. Welcome to the party.”
Turning my face away from Carter, I focus my attention on the table of assholes. I shouldn’t continue to torture myself over what a few douchebags in overpriced loafers think of me. I take a deep cleansing breath and resolve not to give the jackasses from table three any more of my thoughts.
“I need coffee.” I groan. “Or an Oreo.”
“Oreo? Interesting . . .”
My brow lifts. “Why?”
“I saw you more of Sour Patch Kid kind of girl. Either way, what you need is a distraction, some eye candy.”
“And how will eye candy help?”
“If you saw some, you would know. Nothing gives a pick-me-up like staring at someone hot at a bar. For me, I stare at Monica. Would never touch her, but damn, is she fun to look at.”
“I’ve got you to stare at . . .” I stifle a yawn. “It’s not working.”
“Hotter.”
“Hotter, like what?”
“From what the girls who work here say . . . He’s behind you.”
My head shifts so that I’m looking over my shoulder, but I don’t see anyone who fits the image I have in my head of who Carter is talking about.
My gaze roams the room, squinting through the mass of people congregating on the dance floor. The crowd parts, and for a split second, my heart stops beating. I’m frozen in place, my hand trembling under its own weight. Directly across from me stands a divine creature.
He is tall and sculpted from head to toe. His brown hair has that just fucked appearance that makes me want to run my hands through it, and his eyes remind me of the night. An endless depth, a bottomless pool of darkness, that promises to hold secrets like the midnight sky.
