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“We’ll have a round of drinks, Lucy. J here will have his usual whisky sour, and Quinn and I will have some of my Macallan double cask 18-year-old single malt.”
Marlee—Quinn—clears her throat and shakes her head. “Not tonight, Decker. I’ll stick to my wine thanks.”
He wings a brow, his lips curving up into a calculating smirk. “You can’t drink wine in my club, baby. You’re turning down my top whisky for wine? You wound me.”
She shrugs, looking like she doesn’t have a care in the world and won’t be rattled. “First, I’m no one’s baby. I've told you, Decker, this is business and business only. You know I'm not interested in being another blonde bimbo on your arm.”
Decker doesn’t look like a man who shies away from a challenge, and the flash in his gaze and his growing grin confirms it. Marlee knows what she’s doing though—whatever it is she’s doing. I can see the play from here. Reeling the man in by being hard to get, the total opposite of the simpering easy conquest a man like him can get without trying. Coming across as unobtainable is like Viagra to Decker. He could click his fingers and anyone he wants warming his bed. Wanting someone who isn’t a pushover—that will always get his attention.
I can tell she’s got a read on him already and knows that if you wave a red flag in front of this bull—or a beautiful woman who doesn’t fall to her knees at the sight of him—he can’t resist the challenge. It’s smart. It’s exactly the approach I’d suggest for an undercover op. I just wish I could find out why she’s here, what her angle is, and whether or not it’s going to have an effect on my own case.
“Business,” he scoffs. “I’ll wear you down one day.”
“A wasted effort.” Her mouth is just as seductive as the rest of her and like many a man before him—myself included—Decker James is the moth to Marlee’s bright and irresistible flame.
“How about you, Lawrence? You going to join me for a drink,” Decker asks, snapping me out of my thoughts.
Justin snorts. “Lawrence here doesn’t drink.” I chance a look at Marlee whose lips part slightly but otherwise, she schools her reaction perfectly.
Decker tilts his head as he stares at me intensely. “You in recovery? Because I can dig that.”
“Nah. Just like to keep my head clear when I'm on the clock. Made many a mistake when I have outside influences impairing my judgment. So I drink, just not when I’m working.”
“Good man. That doesn't mean you can't drink club soda or something. Sit, Lawrence.” When I sit next to him, he reaches over and squeezes my shoulder. “And fucking relax, why don't you. I may be the boss but surely I’m not that scary. What do you think, baby?” he asks Marlee—Quinn.
Marlee’s features tighten and her eyes narrow on the man next to me. “I’m not your baby, Decker. It’s business, remember?” She punctuates her statement with a barely-there quirk of her ruby-painted lips and fuck if it doesn't have me thinking of all the times I had that exact teasing look pointed at me in the past. And how it ended up with us tangled in the sheets until morning most of the time.
He waves his hand in the air and snorts. “Yeah, you keep saying that, and yet you always turn up looking like sex personified. You know a man like me can’t deny a beautiful woman. You’re going to get me all distracted if I'm not careful.”
Decker is not dumb. But I can bet that’s exactly what Marlee was planning on. She knows exactly what she’s doing with him and with her outfit. She knows she’s not trying to get into Decker's bed, he doesn’t though. Within just a few minutes of knowing the man, I can already tell that his ego is one of his biggest weaknesses. He’s charming, sure. Smart, I have no doubt. I just don’t know what’s beneath the surface. I guess that’s my next challenge.
What I do know, whatever Marlee's angle is, I need to figure it out regardless.
With an ear to Decker and Justin's conversation, I take a deep breath and rest my hand against my drink, looking out over the club from the glass balcony next to us. It's one-way glass, ensuring the privacy of the VIPs but not shutting them out from the activities and entertainment below. It also means that there are a lot of things that go on up in this part of the club that would not fly on the ground level. Then again, there has to be perks given the simply eye-watering amount of money these people spend here.
“Everything going smoothly tonight?” Decker asks Justin.
“So far. It's been easygoing. No big disasters.”
“And the deliveries? No issues with inventory again? I know we had some missing items from the order the other day,” he continues.
Justin shakes his head. “Nah. Everything was as it should be.”
“Payments made?”
“Yes, D. Everything's running like clockwork. The distributors are happy. We're a well-oiled machine. Don't you think, Aiden?”
Turning toward the men, my gaze sweeps over Marlee to find her head down, eyes on her phone as she mindlessly scrolls through her messages, but I can tell she's listening. “I haven't seen any major hiccups since I've been here.”
Decker sends J a skeptical, some might say scathing look before he smooths his features and nods my way. “Did you accept J's offer to be his number two?”
“I'd be an idiot not to, Sir. I'm not about to turn down a chance like that.”
Decker grins. “I agree. But from all accounts, we're lucky to have you here too. And, please, call me Deck or D.” I jerk my chin up in agreement.
“Does that mean you're going to call me A like Hawk does?”
He laughs. “It's up to you what I call you 'cause you're the one who has to answer to it. A, Aiden, Lawrence, asshole. Whatever floats your boat. Just stick to the same name so at least everyone knows who the fuck we're talking about.”
