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“Yes, sir.”
Fuck! Trey balled his fists, clenched his jaw, and tore his gaze from her. It was his weak spot, though very few could pull off the submissive tone needed to get him off. But Dahlia? This woman was checking off too many boxes. Had another man not been in the room, he’d be as hard as a fucking steel rod.
The silence lingered in the room, and he could feel the heavy gaze on him. It wasn’t Dahlia. She sat in silence, clueless. Rogue, on the other hand, shared in his kink for dominance, knowing it would strike a chord in both of them. Trey drew in a breath, steeled his features, and angled his head toward Rogue, who was openly smirking.
Trey hardened his gaze, sending a clear warning that Rogue, as always, chose to ignore. He settled in his seat, turning his attention back to Dahlia.
“Where’d you work before here?”
Her eyes darted over to Trey, and she parted her lips. “Umm…”
“You don’t fucking know?” Rogue straightened in his seat. “Why the fuck do you keep looking at Trey?”
Dahlia jerked her head. “I’m sorry, umm…I bartended at a few clubs.”
“Which ones?”
“Ghosttown East and…”
It took less than three seconds for the tension in the room to skyrocket. Rogue had many triggers, but East was at the top of the list.
Rogue slammed his glass on Trey’s desk, and by some miracle, it didn’t shatter into pieces. It did, however, spill some of the whiskey.
“Fuck, no!” Rogue shouted and stood, glaring down at Dahlia. “Got enough of East’s fucking leftovers working for us. We don’t need more. We filled our fucking quota! You’re fired.”
Trey drew in a breath, clasped his hands, and stared back at Rogue. He knew Rogue, his game, and how he played it. However, Trey was about to do something he rarely did and challenge Rogue’s decision.
“No, she’s not.”
Rogue spun around. “Yeah, she fucking is, Trey!”
“Why?”
Rogue’s gaze darkened, and he narrowed his stare. “MCs don’t hire fucking anyone. They got their members to do shit and—” Rogue paused, slowly turning back to Dahlia. “—their club whores. I know you ain’t a member, so that must make you one of their whores.”
Dahlia didn’t respond. She didn’t have to. Everyone knew the answer, especially from her lack of response.
“An East club whore. That’s who we’re employing now?”
“She diffused the situation by offering you a drink instead of entertaining a confrontation. She didn’t know who you were, Rogue, but she offered a resolution and compromise by buying you a drink, and she did that with her own money. Honesty is key when running a cash business, don’t you agree?”
Rogue’s brows drew down deep, and his gaze darkened. “Fire her.”
It became less about Dahlia and her affiliation and more about Trey’s loyalty to Rogue in his eyes. When Trey remained silent, Rogue’s gaze darkened, and his back straightened. His gaze quickly shifted to Dahlia, setting her in his line of fire. Trey wouldn’t allow it.
“Dahlia,” Trey said, waiting for her to look up. When she did, he lifted his chin to the door. “You can go.”
She slowly pushed up from the chair, keeping her eyes on Trey. The uncertainty was evident. “Am I fired?”
“No.”
He saw the slight ease in her features, and she quickly nodded, practically running out of the office. Trey watched her, knowing Rogue was doing the same. This was far from over.
“What the fuck, Trey?”
“I could ask you the same thing. She’s done nothing wrong.”
“Her fucking affiliation with East.”
