Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 102184 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 511(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102184 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 511(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
I open my mouth to speak but close it just as quickly so I can regain control. This haughty man pulls out a rebellious side of me, and I switch gears. I think back to the news coverage of Suzie Parks’ boyfriend crying into the camera when they discovered her body.
He’s fucking with me.
The question is why is this man toying with me, thinking he can play this wicked game of controlling who I date? There’s a gleam in his eye, waiting for my response. My gut tells me he’s used to people cowering, and if I want to stand out from the crowd, I need to give him the opposite reaction.
“No, Mr. Huxley, you cannot. Tanner’s a good man. He loves me. You can’t tell me every woman who works here doesn’t have a boyfriend.” I jut my chin out. “I will not break up with him.”
It’s almost undetectable, but a muscle twitches in his jaw. Devereaux stares at me for a long moment, and the silence claws at my skin. Murderer aside, he’s so irritating.
“When I said no boyfriends, I meant no boyfriends in my club. I don’t need any relationship drama here.” He leans back in his seat. “I’ve already had it happen. One of the girls working here had a boyfriend who barged into my club and made a huge scene.”
“Oh.” Well, hell. It’s a rather good rule, jealous boyfriends and all.
“They’re no longer together, nevertheless, the rule remains.” He steeples his hands on the desk. “Now that we have that settled. I’ll let you know how this works.”
“Yes, please do.”
His imposing presence envelops the room as he stands and walks around his desk. I’m sure it’s a power move since his tall body forces me to look up at him. It’s impossible not to explore his impressive physique. Broad shoulders taper down to a trim waist. His thighs are thick, and I swallow as I stare at the larger-than-life bulge behind the zipper of his pants.
My eyes snap up to meet his intense stare.
“When you’re in my club, there’ll be no boyfriends. Not even your precious Tanner.”
Prick. But he’s hiring me and I reign in the giddiness flowing through my system.
“There’s a hierarchy, a stepladder,” he says, changing the subject back to my job expectations versus my personal life. “You’ll start by serving cocktails on the main floor. Once you’ve gotten the hang of things and I feel you can handle it, you can dance in the private rooms. If you want to move up, that is. If you master entertaining clients in the private rooms and want to keep climbing the corporate ladder, you can become a VIP girl. They’re called Greedy Girls.”
As he says the words, I wonder if he provides tutelage in “mastering” entertaining the clients. He’s most likely slept with some girls who work here. I mean, this man must get whatever woman he wants. They must beg to be mauled by him.
There’s probably a long line of them outside his office door.
I swallow, trying to form my next question. “Do the Greedy Girls, uh, go all the way?”
His eyes quickly reconnect to mine. “Is that what you’re looking to do?”
I shrug my shoulders, trying to look aloof instead of the jittery mess I’m hiding inside. It’s essential I become integral in this club so I can get to know all the members. The farther up this ladder I go, the more information I’ll gain access to. “If it pays well enough,” I answer, hoping it sounds sincere and praying it doesn’t come down to that.
An expression I can’t fully define flickers across his face. Like he’s angry at my choice. Or disgusted. Or who knows, I might have just become his next victim, and the idea excites him.
“And Tanner wouldn’t be jealous?”
I stare into Devereaux’s eyes as he waits for my answer. “I really need the money.”
He turns away from me and pushes a button on the landline phone on his desk. “Adele,” he barks out. Moments later, she appears. “Show our newest employee the ropes,” he says to her. “She’ll need a stage name.”
Adele nods. “Any name in particular, sir?”
Breathing is not an option when he steps close enough for the appealing scent of his woodsy cologne to intoxicate my nose with the smell of pine and danger. I feel tiny in the leather chair as he towers over me like I’m a weed in his garden, and he could pluck me out with no warning.
He studies me, his eyes trailing across my features, lingering on my lips before he runs a hand over his stubbled jaw. “Swan.”
In a flash, Adele ushers me out of his office, and I finally fill my lungs with oxygen as I follow her down the steps to the main floor. She leads me to the bar, where a group of very colorful girls stand.