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“I’m fine.” I bite my tongue against everything else I want to say. These men have more money than I will ever see in my lifetime. I can’t get mouthy with them.
“Kendall, are you okay?” Colby stands up and rounds the bar, his eyes narrowing as he looks between me and the other man. “Is this guy harassing you?”
“I’m fine, Colby. It’s just a little whiskey.”
The man arches an eyebrow as he looks at Colby. Colby crosses his arms, not intimidated by the man at all.
“Can I help you?” the man asks. There’s amusement in his eyes as he looks down at Colby. “I don’t see how this conversation concerns you.”
“Gentlemen, why don’t we both just go back to our tables, and I’ll bring everyone some drinks on the house?”
Except none of this will be on the house. It will all be coming out of my tips for the night.
The man who bumped into me rolls his eyes. “How much will this cost?”
He pulls out his wallet and my stomach lurches. This is what I hate the most about working here. All these men think that everything can be bought. That money will pay for the humiliation I feel still standing here with my bra on display for the club to see.
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll send another girl to help you while I get cleaned up.”
I brush by the men, ignoring the way they still glare at each other. Their egos and their wallets are battling for dominance and I’m not about to be caught in the middle of it.
Crossing my arms to hide my bra, I head toward the stairs. As I pass one of the other two girls working tonight, I ask her to take over my table.
“Wait!”
I look over my shoulder and see the man who bumped into me striding toward the stairs.
There’s something about his confidence that’s alluring. He walks as if he owns the place and knows that everyone is going to do as he says without question.
He’s the kind of man I can’t stand.
“What is the shirt going to cost?” he asks as he stops in front of me.
“Don’t worry about it. It was an accident.” I say it because I’m supposed to, not because I want to. The shirt is expensive, but it’s required to work on the VIP floor.
I could use the money to pay for a new shirt. Or it could help cover the cost of the bottle that is likely still spilled on the floor. One of the bartenders hurries by me with a mop as I stare at the man before me.
His eyebrows raise and he reaches for his wallet. “I insist.”
“And I told you no. Thank you, but no.”
I turn to walk away but his hand wraps around my forearm, holding me back. As I spin around, his eyes drop down to the lace bra that is still showing through my shirt.
“My eyes are up here,” I say, my tone harsher than intended.
His mouth curves into a shadow of a smile as he looks up at me. It’s that slight smile that has me thinking about what we could get up to in the dark corners of the club.
“What’s a woman like you doing in a club like this?”
My jaw nearly drops to the floor. “Why do you talk about me like you know me? You don’t know anything about me, and I would suggest that you don’t make assumptions.”
His smirk grows and it sends a rush of heat straight to my core. The man rolls up his sleeves, exposing the tattoos that cover his forearms.
I wonder if those tattoos cover the rest of his body.
“Look, if you ever think about a change in career, call me.” He pulls out a card with his name and phone number on it. Evan Tucker.
The name is familiar. It’s one I see advertised all over the city. Tucker Realty. My eyes widen as I look at him, waves of disgust rolling through me.
