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No doubt he gets off on being sleazy in front of his friends, and he’s probably trying his damnedest to get a reaction out of me.
The last thing I want to do is give him the satisfaction.
I will not let this asshole best me or get me fired.
Not when there’s half a million dollars on the line.
Letting the thought of the money, of freedom, true freedom, flood through me, I relax my shoulders and slip my mask back into place.
Slowly I pull my arm out of his grip, my skin crawling from his touch, and nod my head.
“Sure thing, honey,” I murmur then strut away as fast as my gold stiletto heels will carry me.
Behind me, just above the pumping bass of whatever song Amber is dancing to, I can hear the man’s buddies chuckling and snickering. “You dog, Jones.”
“What can I say?” Mr. Business Card says with pride. “I just can’t help myself.”
His words repeat in my head the entire walk to the bar.
I. Just. Can’t. Help. Myself.
Stomping my heels into the floor, I wish I was stomping them into something else.
For three long weeks, this job has dragged on with no sign of any of the men I need to be keeping tabs on.
I thought I would only have to work here for a few days, max. That this would be the easiest job ever.
But so far, Lucifer and his men have yet to make an appearance.
There’s been rumors aplenty that they’ll show up any day now. Hopeful rumors whispered in the backroom by the dancers looking to score the sugar daddy of their dreams.
Apparently, Lucifer keeps a close eye on the properties he owns. For good or ill.
So, where is he?
What I wouldn’t give to be done with this place…
“Girl…What crawled up your coochie and died?” Lana asks the moment she lays eyes on me.
Elbow propped on the bar and hip jutted out in a sexy pose, her glossy lips quirk up into a smirk.
Shaking my head and causing the halo I’m forced to wear to tip to the side, I slap the business card down on the counter beside her and get our bartender’s attention. I put my order in for the table, getting that out of the way, before I answer.
“Just the usual,” I grumble as I straighten my halo over my ice blonde wig. “Another group of assholes.”
Eyes laughing at me, Lana says, “They’re all assholes to you.”
I open my mouth to argue against that but quickly close it.
She’s not wrong…
Lana shakes her head almost sadly. “Sweetie, you’re in the wrong line of work.”
Don’t I know it. I’m just not cut out for this. And if the circumstances were different I certainly wouldn’t be here.
But I can’t admit I’m here because I’m supposed to spy on some very powerful men in exchange for a little revenge and half a million dollars.
So I fall back on my old, tired excuse. “I need the money.”
