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“Everyone needs this job. It pays bloody well. Why do you deserve it over anyone else?” I challenge.
“I...I don’t.” She looks crestfallen at the realisation, but I have nothing but respect for her. She didn’t spin me a line or try to sell me a sob story. Wouldn’t work anyway, I’m a heartless bastard, but a damn good boss. “But I’ve been given this opportunity and I really don’t think I’ve done anything to mess it up.”
“Practise with the damn heels tomorrow. Don’t even think of showing up in the evening if you so much as teeter in those shoes. I run my club to the highest standards, and I will not have my clientele complaining because recruitment got sloppy.”
“Yes sir, thank you.”
“It’s Daddy.”
She cringes and I smirk. I’ll make her say it. I’ll make her beg me to allow her to call me that. She’s going to be mine, fuck the age gap. I want her.
“Now go the fuck home and come back tomorrow when you’re ready to make less of a fool of yourself.”
I return to my phone, a clear dismissal. She doesn’t wait, bolting for the door and rolling her ankle as she trips. She hisses at the pain but wisely says nothing, returning to her feet and closing the door behind her once again.
A liability? Perhaps. But she’s stirred something unexpected in me, and I want to find out more. I try to convince myself that I just want to bring her to heel, but there’s a curiosity there too. Do I feel a need to protect her? Ridiculous. I dismiss the notion. I don’t do those sorts of emotions. Not the warm and fuzzy kind anyway.
No, this is just Wint getting in my head and fucking around with me. Chick’ll come back tomorrow and the spell will be broken. You’ll see. There’s no way I’m going to fall for some young blonde. Especially not one namedCandyfor Christ’s sake. Doesn’t mean I won’t fuck her though.
CANDY
I stomp down the stairs back to the main bar, but I have no idea which door I need to find my way back to the changing room. There’s no way I’m going home dressed like this. Ah hell. I have no idea how I’m going to get back to Elle’s house. I was banking on staying till morning then trying to get a bus back.
“That’s the door you need,” Frost calls out, pointing to a door in the rough direction I thought the dressing room was. I hope he’s being genuine and not sending me in to interrupt...something. “Bye bye, Bambi.” He smirks, a cold, savage sort of thing, and gives me a sarcastic little wave. I don’t trust him, but damn if I don’t find his shitty attitude strangely familiar and appealing.
Right there and then I decide I’ll forgo sleep if I have to in order to master those bloody heels and wipe the smirk off his nasty face. He thinks I’m not returning, but I’ll prove him wrong. No one is getting rid of methateasily.
Ignoring him, I cross the busy bar space, leaving him alone behind the bar to cope with the demanding crowd. Having to push my way through the crowd makes me uncomfortable. I’ve never been good with crowds or strangers, and squeezingthrough tiny gaps and pressing up against half naked, sweaty bodies clad in more leather than a biker bar, makes me squirm.
Eventually though, I make it to the safety of the white marble dressing room, the door closing softly behind me and drowning out the noise of the crowd. I relax a little, leaning my back on the door for a moment and taking a few deep breaths. I have no idea why I’m being paid so well to hand out bottles of water, but something tells me they took it easy on me tonight, and the job might not be so simple tomorrow.
Oh well, I’ll just have to cross that bridge when I get to it.
I locate the locker Vixen had me put my things in earlier, relieved to find my clothes in there safe and sound, and begin to change. The sound of the door opening makes me jump and I scramble to cover myself up. I’m so flustered that I know I won’t be able to pull my top on in time so I spin my back to the intruder and quickly pull my jeans up with a little shimmy. Unfortunately, I knock my jumper onto the floor in the process and have no idea how I’m going to grab it without flashing whoever’s in the room.
“Here,” a low, but soft voice says. A hand reaches over my shoulder, the cashmere item held out for me. “I won’t look.”
I mumble a thanks, pull the top on, and turn to face the speaker.
“I’m Dash, Dasher. You must be Candy.”
Internally I groan, because there’s no escaping the name now, and then I look at the guy talking to me.Reallylook at him.
For starters, he’s topless, but for a pair of braces running up his well defined torso and disappearing over strong shoulders. It’s completely distracting. His build is athletic, compared to the bouncer, Don’s bodybuilder aesthetic. His face though…well, it’s as perfect as his body. Truly a bone structure that would make angels and supermodels alike weep. Beautiful high, haughty cheekbones and a jawline that could cut glass, but without theharshness ofFrost’s. His thick-rimmed spectacles do nothing to hide the bluest eyes I’ve ever seen, and his smile is all kindness and warmth. He’s a mixture of cute and sexy…geek-chic if you will.
He clears his throat, and I realise I’ve been staring way too long.
“Sorry. Umm. Hi. Yes. I’m Candy. And it’s time for me to go home.”
“That’s a shame. I hope you’ll be back tomorrow.”
“That’s the plan. If I can master the damn heels.”
“Ah, well there’s a knack to it, you see,” he says conspiratorially.
I raise a brow and flash him a flirty smile. “Oh, there is?”
“Stretch your ankles first. Warm up. Practise on carpet and take smaller steps.”
