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“Fresh blood,” he laughs. “I’m glad Hade found you, and that Livvie’s not alone anymore. I’m sure she’s told you about the last manager.” He shakes his head. “Hade wasn’t exactly broken up about her leaving.”
“Where did she go?”
“No clue, no one saw her again,” he replies with a shrug. “Maybe he tossed her out the window, maybe he killed her, or she ran away,” he says casually as my lips part in surprise. He couldn’t be serious... he’s not serious, right?
The girls squeal.
“Let’s do shots!” One of them shouts, waving her hands in the air as a new song comes on, pumping through the system so loud that it nearly deafens me.
“Coming right up, ladies,” Angel says smoothly, and I start pulling out shot glasses. The girls are all blonde, their hair done in different styles. Some are braided, others are up in buns, and there’s one whose hair is a cascade of ringlets. They’re all beautiful and look like they’re straight off a magazine cover. I feel painfully plain next to them, but I picked my clothes to blend in, and did my freshly washed hair in a large bun at the back of my head to keep it out of the way. I wasn’t looking for attention tonight.
“Hey,” someone calls at me, waving from my peripheral vision. I turn to see a tall man leaning up against the bar, in a black leather biker jacket, his hand drumming on the smooth marble bar-top. “A round of whisky for the table.”
“Alright,” I nod, and he points across the floor. I follow his gaze to the table at the edge of the VIP room. A group of five men sit there, a few girls lingering at the edge of the table. When he doesn’t leave, I pause with a smile on my face. “I’ll bring them right over.”
“Top shelf,” he says, and the lights slide over his features. They’re aquiline, sharp, handsome in an almost inhuman way. And his eyes... for a moment I swear they glisten like Hadrion’s do, but when I glance back at him, they’re normal to my sight. Must’ve been a trick of the light. “We’re celebrating. Make it the whole damn bottle.” He grins, his teeth sharp, and then turns and strides away, his gait slow and confident.
“Hey,” Angel’s voice cuts through the haze of my confusion. I realize I’ve just been standing there, staring after the strangeman, and my cheeks flush. “Don’t worry about him. That’s Falcon, one of Hade’s closest friends. The boss man’ll be happy if you keep ‘em happy. So bring the bottle of our best.” He points to the highest shelf at the back of the bar and I nod, pulling out the small step-ladder that’ll help me get up there.
As I do, there’s a rush of noise and movement, and someone slides in behind the bar.
“What’s the word?” It’s Hadrion, his hair slicked back, a black shirt stretched taut over his broad shoulders and muscular chest, black trousers and shiny black shoes, no tie.
“Katy’s on her first round, so keep your eyes peeled, boss,” Angel says. Hadrion’s eyebrows rise, and he nods at me, and then looks toward the table that the man named Falcon had indicated. He made an annoyed sound at the back of his throat, as I start to climb up the steps. His hand comes out, wrapping around the top rung of the ladder, holding it steady for me.
His presence feels so close and warm that it distracts me for a moment, his body inches from mine. My foot, newly shod, catches on the next step, and it throws my body out of balance. With a cry, I tumble forward—
Right into Hadrion’s arms.
He catches me, the ladder rocking dangerously before he kicks the bottom of it, sending it toppling over onto its side. I’m flush against his body, the heat and strength of him, his arms holding me tightly, keeping me from falling. My heart is pounding, my eyes wide as I stare up at him. His own expression is tense, and he’s breathing a little heavily, and when his lips part, I realize I’m staring at his mouth.
“Are you alright?” His voice is a low rumble, and he shifts his hands on me, his fingers digging in slightly, as if he doesn’t want to let me go.
“I’m fine,” I say, and suddenly become aware that his chest is against my breasts, and my heartbeat is slamming through my veins. My whole body feels warm, hot even, and as he lets me down, I slide against him, dragging all the way down.
I stifle a gasp and stumble backward, catching myself on the counter.
“That was a close call,” he says, his voice tight, and he clears his throat. “Make sure you have your footing. These shoes can be tricky.” He frowns. “We need to get you something different for tomorrow night. Angel!” He barks the other bartender’s name. “Get the whiskey. You can serve that table. I’ll stay and man the bar with Katy.”
“Aye-aye,” Angel says with a laugh, and then I’m standing there, watching Hadrion, with a flush running over my whole body. He’s still looking at me, and a few of the club-goers, noticing the interaction, are turning toward us. I look down at my hands.
“Thank you,” I say.
“Of course. We can’t have our new manager getting injured on her first night. I’d never hear the end of it from Livvie.”
I nod and turn to someone else at the bar, pouring out a line of shots for them and their friends. When I lift my head, I see Angel at the table, offering the bottle for Falcon’s scrutiny. The strange man, every inch a predator, glances from the bottle, up to me at the bar. When he notices me watching him, he smirks, his lips spreading wide. I turn away and pretend to wipe up a spill behind the bar.
“He’s watching you,” Hadrion says, and I look up at him, startled. He’s standing at my shoulder, his eyes fixed on the VIP room.
“Who?”
“Falcon.”
“Oh, that’s nice,” I say nonchalantly, and go back to cleaning, until someone grabs my arm, nearly hauling me over the bar.
“You’re new,” the man breathes, his eyes large, red-rimmed, and bulging as he leans in close. I can smell his breath, caked with alcohol and bitter. He’s swaying, unsteady, and the moment his hand touched my arm, Hadrion was there, pushing him back.
“Let go,” Hadrion snarls, his expression dark. The man puffs up, his chest expanding as he pulls himself to his full height. He’s fat, sweat-stains in his armpits, and he’s lost his suit jacket somewhere in the club, because his dress-shirt is nearly transparent with sweat. But he looks... rich. I know power and money anywhere, and this man has it in spades.
