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“She keeps asking questions like, ‘Who designed the bar?’‘What’s the thought process on how the bottles are laid out?’‘Did I pick out the dish rags?’Thedish rags,Saint. Can you believe it? She won’t stop talking …incessantly. I might stab her. The day is young,” Myles hisses.
I level my gaze with her. “Myles, you deal with talkative drunks every damn day, all night long. How can she possibly be getting to you after a few minutes.”
She raises a hand and mimes stabbing someone.
This time, I can’t help but chuckle. “All right. I’ll see what I can do.”
“Thank you,” she breathes, her shoulders drooping with relief.
“And I’ve got another pack of stir sticks in my office. Let me grab them,” I say, walking past her and back into the office.
She follows after me and shoots a quick smile at Lily. “Sorry for the interruption.”
“No worries,” Lily says, holding up the papers in her hand. “I was riveted by my reading material.”
Myles huffs a laugh. “Oh yeah, that’s some goddamn Shakespeare right there.”
I reach into my desk drawer, grab the box from Dirty Deeds and shove them at her. “Here.”
“Thanks,” she says, grabbing the box and spinning on her heel. When she reaches the door, she mimics stabbing someone again.
“Bye, Myles.” I laugh.
She whips her head and stomps off.
Lily sighs and shifts forward in her chair. “All right. I’m ready. Can I borrow a pen?”
I grab the pen on my desk and hold it out for her. A zing races through my hand, into my arm, and straight to my groin when her fingertips brush mine.
“Th—thanks,” she says, dropping her gaze to the papers. She flips to the last one, signing on the dotted line.
I heave a sigh of relief, only to have a new terror claw its way to the surface when she hands the papers back to me.
Here goes nothing…
“Well, now that’s out of the way …” I shuffle the papers into a pile and set them aside. Then, I take a seat, shifting in it uncomfortably. “I guess I better fill you in on whatmoreNocté does.”
CHAPTER10
Lily
I’m hanging onto the edge of my seat, wondering what on earth Club Nocté does that requires an NDA.
And please, for the love of all that’s holy, don’t let it be something illegal.I don’t think I could handle that.
Before London can get another word in, there’s a loud huff in the doorway behind me.
“Whatthe fuckare these?” Myles walks back in, holding a bright pink stir stick with a phallus at the end.
I smother the smile before it erupts from my lips.
So, that’s why London was buying those.
London blinks innocently. “I don’t see the problem. You wanted stir sticks. I gave you stir sticks.”
“These,” she spits pit, stepping further into the room and waving the penis-ended stick at his face, “arenotfunny. And they’re not stir sticks.”
He cracks another smile, obviously enjoying riling her up. “Nope, you’re totally right. They’re dick sticks.”
