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Shaking my head, I look for Carter, and when I see him, I can’t help but grin. I was right. He’s his typical charming self. Women love him. Men love him. Hell, I believe my grandma would even love him. I can’t see the girl’s face, but she’s probably eating him up. Most of the new girls do.
My eyes wander down her backside.
She’s average height, with a narrow waist and hips that protrude just enough to give her the hourglass figure men fall over themselves for. Her long, brown hair falls in waves around her shoulders, but it’s when she turns around that my breath literally hitches.
That face . . .
Her eyes, although I can’t see the color from here, which I know from the pictures online, are blue, are also large and mesmerizing. They’re wide as she takes in the mayhem that is Club Silver. And her full lips are pulled up in a smirk at something Carter says behind her.
God, she’s beautiful.
I can’t explain my reaction. I experience insta-lust often, but this is something different.
It’s her eyes.
Her haunted eyes.
Her demons make her different.
No, it’s more than that . . .
I internally groan at my own wayward thoughts.
She’s clearly a siren, but I don’t have time to contemplate my body’s visceral call for her. I’m going to chalk it up to . . .
Yeah, I have nothing.
I shake my head to clear the fog I appear to be in and decide to forgo checking in with Carter. Instead, I look around the space and notice the curtain to Reese’s table has been pulled shut.
No surprise there.
I stalk up toward the VIP section.
Reese is a fucking problem.
But he’s also a problem I’m not sure how to handle. There is no love lost between us, but the part of me that will always be attached to Alexa holds me back.
Guilt is a vicious thing.
It slithers inside like a venomous snake.
You might not see it at first, might not notice its presence, but it’s there, hidden beneath the grass, ready to strike.
Reese has this hold on me.
But something has got to fucking give.
I’m not in the mood for this shit, but I deal with it, nonetheless.
Swinging open the curtain, I’m met with his bright green eyes. They are glassy, and his nostrils are red.
Surprise, surprise. Seems not much has changed.
“Drew Lawson, to what do I owe the honor of your presence tonight?” he slurs.
“You need to get your shit together, or I’m going to have to ask you to leave. No drugs in my club.”
“Careful there, Lawson, you act all high and mighty, but don’t forget, I know everything. Wouldn’t want your perfect reputation tarnished.”
“Shut your mouth.”
“Why? Guilty conscience?”
“I said shut the fuck up, or you’ll be out of here so fast you won’t know what happened to you.”
“You won’t throw me out.”
“Try me.”
“Alexa wouldn’t want that . . .” He grins.
“You don’t know shit about what Alexa would want.”
“That’s right, you do. You always knew . . . how did that work out for you?”
I bare my teeth, ready to snap, but then I calm myself. Alexa wouldn’t want this. She wouldn’t want me fighting with Reese, and at least I can keep an eye on him here. Make sure he doesn’t get into too much trouble.
Some might say it’s not my responsibility, but it is.
This is my burden. My cross to bear.
Regardless of what I want.
“I see you hired a new girl . . .” he leads, his eyes narrowing at me.
“Stay away from her,” I say before I turn, leaving Reese at his table, and stalk toward the new girl.
When I’m standing in front of her, she becomes stiff with recognition.
“Did he bother you?” I grit out of clenched teeth.
Her eyes are wide in shock. “No.” She shakes her head. “Nothing I can’t handle.”
She’s much prettier up close, rocking the sweet, innocent girl-next-door look. I know the truth, though. Regardless of how innocent she looks, she’s anything but.
It makes her that much more intriguing.
I shouldn’t want to know more about her, but I do.
4
Bailey
The night is finally over, and I can barely stand. I’m still unnerved by my first run-in with my boss. He barely said anything. Just came over like he was willing to rip off the head of the drunk loser in room three.
I only saw him that one time, but it was enough to leave an impression. Now that the club is closed, all the adrenaline has left, and my body aches, every muscle wrung so tight that one missed step would bring me down.
It’s after three thirty in the morning, and thankfully, the bass is no longer hammering through my ears. However, as my gaze shifts around the room, I realize the music was the least of my problems. The VIP tables, the bar . . .
