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Chapter 1
Taylor
My feet are killing me, my ears ring, and I’m dying of thirst.
Pretty normal after a seven-hour cocktail shift at Sins.
I wince as I walk out to my car in the dark parking lot, balancing two plastic cups of ice water in one hand, along with my purse and keys. I can’t believe I forgot my water bottle–not that there’s ever a free moment to drink it.
I’m in a pair of high heeled stilettos. Yeah, they bring the tips in, but damn, do they hurt!
You would think for someone pursuing an education in physical therapy I would take better care of my body. But then I wouldn’t bring in the big bucks. And Lord knows, I need the money. I’m still paying down the loans from my undergraduate education, living on ramen and mac and cheese. If I didn’t have the job at Sins to supplement my student loans, I wouldn’t be able to afford the gas in my car.
The club closed an hour ago, but there is still a smattering of cars in the parking lot, including a slick BMW that can’t possibly belong to any of my co-workers.
Must be one of the customer’s then.
Probably mafia-owned.
My lips quirk as I think about the hundred dollar tip in my pocket from one of them.
Marco. He and his brother Leo come in here with different women on their arms every freaking weekend.
Tonight he had the nerve to ask me if I’m ever tempted to come on my nights off.
“Never.”
He flashed that cocky smile. “Never, ever?”
“No,” I told him. “I don’t like pain.”
“Do you like pleasure, angel?” He arched a sexy brow.
I roll my eyes as I open my car door. I would’ve told him I’m not his angel, except I like his money way too much to draw that line in the sand.
I groan when I drop to the driver’s seat and take the weight off my feet. I set the water cups down on the center console and lean down to unbuckle the ankle straps on my heels. “Ow, ow, ow,” I mutter. I can’t stand another minute with these torture devices affixed to my poor throbbing feet.
As soon as I get them off, I start my old Honda Accord and back out.
When I turn to drive out of the lot, one of the water cups careens off the center console and dumps ice and liquid into my lap.
“Ack!” I accidentally twist the wheel when I grab for it and try to shake the ice from my already-soaked dress. One of my heels tumbles under the brake pedal.
Fuck.
I try to kick it out as the second cup of water tumbles all over me.
I reach down to grab the shoe, but my foot jams onto the gas pedal and the car lurches forward.
I plow straight into a parked car.
I scream. There’s a sickening crunch of metal and plastic, and I still can’t get the shoe out from under the brake! The engine revs as I continue to shove against–oh God.
It’s the BMW. Of course it is.
Fuck, fuck, fuck!
I kick the shoe out and press the brake, gripping the steering wheel so hard my knuckles crack.
