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Before I could finish my sentence, one of the waitresses approached us, holding her eye.
“What happened?!” Jade and I said in unison.
“I got lemon juice in my eye,” Roxy whined, wiping the tears away from her forest eyes and smooth ivory cheeks.
“Why is your face red like you got hit? It matches your hair,” I hissed. I’d know that type of mark anywhere. “That’s not a lemon juice injury.”
“The guy I was dancing for accidentally elbowed me.”
“So, you lied?” Jade scoffed.
She nodded.
“Take her upstairs and help her get cleaned up.” She twisted to Roxy. “What was he wearing and what did he look like?”
“Blue button-up shirt, white pants, spiky, brown hair.”
Jade’s face turned sour before she marched away toward the showroom. She didn’t put up with anyone’s shit… ever. As nice as she was, she wasn’t someone you wanted to cross.
“Let’s get you upstairs.”
Roxy wasn’t a dancer, so she shouldn’t have been dancing. She was only a waitress. If you wanted to dance, you had to earn it, waiting on tables first; unless, of course, you had a dancing history.
Some dancers still waited on tables anyway, because they made extra money. Roxy, however, never had an interest in dancing. She was twenty-one and had started working for Euphoria at eighteen. Because of the legalities, Ian couldn’t have her on the floor until she was twenty-one, so she performed admin duties during the day until recently.
She didn’t have money problems or a bad home life. She just wanted to work in a club environment. Ian didn’t like to hire girls under twenty-one, but she was determined to work for any club in the city, so he wanted her safe. Still, I wondered why she was even dancing to begin with.
As we entered the executive lobby, Ian and Chance were in the middle of what seemed like an intense conversation.
“What happened?” Ian asked.
“A customer hit her.”
Chance’s lustful gaze was glued to my body. Roxy peeled her hand away from her face, checking for blood. “It was an accident,” she defended the customer.
“Did you tell Jade?” Ian’s skeptical face said he knew it wasn’t an accident.
“She went to handle it,” I interjected.
“Good.” He approached her, inspecting the injury. “You should go home for the night and get some rest. It’s only a small scratch, but your eye might need some ice. It’s pretty bruised already.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket, pressing the screen, then placed it to his ear. “I’ll have one of the bouncers help you.”
Get Roxy a bag of ice and meet her outside the dressing room. Make sure she gets to her car safely as well. And make sure Jade doesn’t need help.
He returned his phone to his inside jacket pocket. Chance sat silently on the couch in the middle of the room. My gaze shifted to him, and he gave me a small smile.
“Thank you, Mr. Knight.” Roxy lowered her head.
“I hope you feel better.”
With a quick nod, Roxy and I turned to leave, but Ian’s hand on my shoulder barred me. Startled, I spun around. He withdrew it with a glare. “You stay, Miss Wilson.”
I turned to Roxy. “You will be okay, yeah?”
“Of course.” She hugged me.
“And for future reference, lemon juice is a terrible excuse unless you’re a bartender.”
She giggled, then exited the room. I watched until the door closed, then spun to the guys. Ian extended his arm to the sitting area. Trying hard to contain my eye roll, I nodded once, then sat next to Chance on the sofa. Ian sat opposite us, ankle crossed over his knee. His eyes drifted back and forth between us, his face painted with the look of a disappointed father.
