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“That was Dominick on the phone,” he says. “Asked to see you in the office.”
I nod, walking over to Logan, the other guy working security tonight, and ask him to cover the door for a minute while I talk to the boss. Logan’s a MMA fighter who works here part-time to help cover costs. With his bald head and trimmed goatee, he’s intimidating enough that I don’t have to worry.
Comfortable the floor is secure, I head upstairs to Dominick’s office and give two quick raps on the door. A moment later, a deep voice inside calls out. “Enter.”
Even though I was invited in, I open the door slowly, both to give anyone inside time to get decent and so that I can make sure some goon isn’t going to grab me as I enter.
Dominick isn’t a guy you mess with, and while I never have, I don’t want to be caught unaware. But all seems chill as I enter, Dominick sitting behind his large mirrored desk.
The whole room is done in contemporary modern lines, mirrors here, low-slung leather chairs there, all surrounded by sleek black shiny walls. Of course, those are one-way mirrors that look onto the dance floor and audience area downstairs, but they’re good quality so the noise in here is barely noticeable unless Dom turns on the speakers. Dominick is watching, always watching what happens in Petals since it’s his club, his territory.
I sit in one of the white leather chairs, although I don’t dare get comfortable and familiar in his office, not with the Desert Eagle I know he keeps under his desktop. Instead, I lean forward, appearing poised and ready for anything. “What can I do for you, sir?”
Dom’s the only man I call sir, and while I don’t like it, it makes my life a lot easier. He drums his fingers on the top of his desk, looking at me with those perceptive eyes of his. If I ever needed a reminder that my life is perilous, those eyes are a perfect one. “Shane, Marco tells me there was trouble last night. Explain.”
It’s an order, and one I know to obey. I give Dominick the full-detailed version of last night’s incident, knowing withholding anything would be seen as a betrayal, finishing with Miles’s name and information being posted behind the bar for Marco and shared with the rest of the security team.
As I speak, Dominick spins the gold pinky ring he wears. It’s filigreed but has been passed down in his family for a long time, so the decorations are nearly worn as smooth as a new wedding ring. It should look stupid, my upbringing telling me that real men don’t wear rings, especially pinky rings. But Dominick pulls it off with style, the ring fitting in perfectly with his custom-made deep navy suit and silver tie.
He radiates wealth and power, and though he’s a few years older than me and about twenty pounds lighter, I’m pretty sure that if he and I ever threw down, it’d be one hell of a scrap. And that doesn’t count if Dom fought dirty, in which case all bets are off.
Dom knows my evaluation of him, and in some ways, that helps me. He knows that I view him not with fear but with the respect of one warrior to another, and because of that, he gives me respect back. He nods and folds his fingers together. “And after the incident?”
I nod, knowing what he’s talking about and that honesty is the best policy here. Marco would have told him that I left my truck here and drove Meghan home, and that I didn’t come back to pick up my truck at all.
Better he hears the story from me than find out later from someone else, and he will find out because he has an uncanny way of always knowing things.
“Meghan was in shock, asked me to drive her home, which I did. I offered to call a cab from the porch, but she asked me to come in for coffee. We talked, and she calmed down. At some point, we fell asleep on her couch. I left her apartment this morning and she seemed fine.”
Dominick’s fingers tighten a little before he unlaces them, setting them almost casually on the arms of his office chair. I’d be fooled too if it wasn’t that I know his right hand’s about six inches from that Desert Eagle of his. “You slept with her?”
I nod, speaking quickly but calmly. “I feel like that’s a trick question, asking one thing but meaning another. We slept on the couch, fully clothed. If you’re asking if I had sex with her, the answer is no.”
Dominick nods, his hands relaxing and going back to turning his ring. “Well answered. I do feel the need to remind you of our no-dating policy, both the dancers and waitresses being strictly off limits.”
