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"Maybe you've had enough," Joey suggested gently, setting the beer down just out of reach. "I can call you a cab if you'd like."
"Who the hell do you think you are?" the man snarled, lunging forward and grabbing Joey's wrist with surprising strength. "I said I want another beer!"
His grip was like a vice, causing pain to shoot up Joey's arm. "Alright, alright!" Joey cried out, trying to free himself from the man's grasp. "Just let go of me, and I'll give you your damn beer!"
"Joey, is everything okay over here?" asked Sasha, one of the dancers. Her voice was low as she approached.
The unruly patron released Joey's wrist, but his eyes remained locked on the young bartender, a twisted grin spreading across his face. "Everything's fine here, baby."
Joey opened his mouth to disagree—and then stopped himself. What would the drunk do, if he did? The club had a bouncer every night, but they seemed to spend most of their time hanging around outside smoking, or lounging around inside ogling the girls as much as any patron.
No. If Joey raised a fuss, there was no guarantee that anyone would back him up. There was no way that Joey was roping one of the women into that kind of mess. They had enough on their plates.
He tried to ignore the fact that he did, too. "Everything's fine," Joey agreed, rubbing his sore wrist. "Just… just a little misunderstanding."
"Well, okay," Sasha said, disbelief clear on her face. But as she turned to continue her route, she paused, her face brightening. "Hey, Marco!"
In nothing but a pair of sparkly heels, matching pasties, and a barely-there thong, she bounded over to their newest guest. Her breasts bounced with each step, drawing the eyes of countless men.
Joey watched her bound across the club, too—but his gaze was on the man that she was greeting.
"Sasha, baby," Marco replied smoothly, pausing to give her a kiss on the cheek that lingered just long enough to make her blush. His tailored suit hugged his muscular frame, the sleeves rolled up to bare his forearms, while his dark hair was slicked back.
The contrast between the two of them couldn't be stronger: a woman barely clothed, and a man in a slick suit.
And yet, out of the two of them, it was the sight of Marco that drew Joey's eye.
"Good to see you here, boss" Sasha purred, running a finger down Marco's chest as she leaned in close. "Don't be a stranger, alright?" A lascivious grin spread across her face as she turned and sashayed away, her hips swaying enticingly.
With a chuckle, Marco made his way through the club. As he went, he greeted each staff member with the same confident ease, their faces lighting up at the sight of him. It was clear that Marco held power and status within this world, and the people around him couldn't help but be drawn to it.
Joey dried a glass, and scowled. What a show-off.
Someone noticed his expression—but totally misread what it meant. "Marco King," his first customer said, rolling his eyes. "He's a big shot in the Toscanos. He runs this joint, and the girls all think he's the second coming." He snorted. "Prick. Leave some for the rest of us, will ya?"
"Yeah, sure," Joey muttered under his breath. He watched as Marco continued to work his way through the club, stopping at each table to exchange pleasantries and occasionally slipping folded bills into the hands of various dancers. His smile was charming as he talked to the girl and the customers—but when his gray gaze flicked up to match Joey's, there was something almost predatory in his eyes.
"Watch your back around him," the other bartender warned, thumping Joey on the shoulder. "The Toscanos have a reputation for playing dirty."
"I'm aware," Joey replied grimly, trying to shake off the unease that settled in his chest as he watched Marco continue his rounds.
He didn't like the idea of being around someone so deeply entwined with the Mafia. As far as he was concerned, they were all human trash. If the police rounded up each and every one of them that day, Joey would be one of the first throwing a party.
He didn't want anything to do with them.
But when his father had lost that bet, Joey had lost all choice in the matter.
And as much as he hated to admit it, Joey couldn't help but feel a shiver run down his spine every time Marco's dark, piercing eyes met his own.
As the night wore on, Joey continued to watch Marco from a distance, his initial dislike tempered by grudging respect for the man's charisma and undeniable sex appeal.
What would it even be like, to be with a man like that? The only experience with men that Joey had managed to get was a string of unsatisfying Grindr hookups: a few awkward bouts of phone sex, a mutual handjob or two, and, in one case, a man who only wanted to look at Joey's feet while jerking off.
All in all, his experience hadn't exactly been mind-blowing.
But Marco… He was an ass, but there was something different about him. Dominant. Powerful. Joey wiped down the bar, his mind wandering.
He could imagine Marco's rough hands all over his body. He could imagine that low voice murmuring in his ear, commanding him to submit to his every desire…
