“No.” Without a moment’s thought, he plunges forward. “In all honesty, I’m considering keeping this one for myself. She’s dynamite—brains, ambition, that Ivy League edge that screams power. She’ll rule the world one day; maybe I’ll rule it beside her. It’s been a long time since a woman grabbed my attention. That should tell you what I see in her.”
“How do you convince these women to work here?”
The majority of the women Rossi employs are top-tier university grads. A few undergrads—because the younger ladies draw the men. He prefers recruiting grad students, concentrating on those in medical or law school. Smart womenwho could work anywhere. Instead, they’re here because Rossi’s connections promise a solid future others can only dream of.
We leave his office. He leads me to the main bar. A place where a man can enjoy a drink without getting hit on the second he sits down.
He slaps my back and then takes off. I’ve paid my dues. I may disapprove of some things that happen here, but the anonymity is nice. Here, I’m an invisible man unless I choose otherwise.
So, when a beautiful lady slides in next to me, I’m surprised. Being polite about it, I dismiss her. “I’m not here for anything other than?—”
“She’s going to shit a brick when she finds you here,” the young lady interrupts before I can finish.
“Who?” I turn and recognize her right away. “I know you. You go to Princeton. Play fútbol, or as the Americans call it, soccer. You work here?”
“Skyler.” Extending her hand, she introduces herself with a phony name.
I know who she is, recognize her as one of Ingrid’s teammates.
“And you are the delicious guy who disappeared after saving my teammate from the biggest pinhead I’ve known. I’m not sure I caught your name.”
“Darius.” I take Raven’s hand and cover it with both of mine. “Now who’s going to shit a brick? That sounds painful.” I’ve never heard that expression, but I get the impression it’s not good.
Taking the drink, the bartender places in front of her, Raven draws the straw between her red lips and sucks. If I were interested in the game she’s playing, or even here for other reasons than business, I’d probably find it sexy. I don’t, though.Only one woman holds my attention these days. She’s had it since I sat down at a bar and dared to open up to her.
Grinning, she nods her head toward something behind me, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “How did you get past her when you walked in?”
I swivel the stool around so I can look where she is while telling her, “I didn’t come through the front door. Jack and I had a meeting. He let me in through the back.”
Through the open doorway, I can see the front desk. There’s a man standing there. The very one I came here to speak to. He’s flirting with the hostess, confidence dripping from his expensive suit and slicked-back hair. His date, a blonde, looks less than impressed. Not all men bring women with them, but a few do. It doesn’t stop them from acting like pricks who believe they’re God’s gift to all women. He winks once at the hostess, turns, then guides the woman into the bar where I’m sitting.
I shift forward to stand, ready to take care of business so I can get out of here. But the second he clears the door, the air changes, and everything fades into the background.
Standing at the reception desk is Ingrid. The dress she’s wearing is testing my restraint. My cock turns to stone. She’s welcoming the next son of a bitch, smiling at him like he’s hung the fucking moon. Anyone else may buy it. I don’t. I know her too well. She’d rather be anywhere but here—I can make that happen.
I down the last of my whiskey. A warm burn trailing down my throat. I’m up, jacket smoothed, moving fast, drawing every gaze in the room. Passing the man I came for, I brush against him, catch his wrist and turn him slightly. While he’s distracted, I snap a tracker onto his watch. Clean. Quick. He’ll never know. His movements are mine now.
Business finished, I steady him and head straight for the lobby. Ingrid greets me with a smile so false it hurts to look at—until her eyes rise, meet mine, and falter in shock.
“What the fuck do you think you are doing?” The words are out before I can stop them. “No. No, this is not acceptable. We are leaving.”
Chapter 13
Ingrid
Istare at the last man I expected to find here. It would be awesome if the ground would open and swallow me so I can disappear.
My night so far hasn’t been horrible, but I’ll admit I feel out of place. I’ve been racking my brain trying to figure out another way to earn the money I need without having to work here. It’s not that I think the women who work here are selling themselves short by doing so. It has more to do with me. I’m not cut out for a job like this. I’ve faked it most of my life, and I sure as hell don’t want to continue to do so.
Ignoring his sharp, insistent words, I turn to the gentleman I was helping and hand him back his card. “Thank you for coming in tonight. I hope you have a wonderful evening at Kismet. If there’s anything we can do to make it better, please let us know.”
I’ve been saying the same words all night. Each patron replies in near-perfect similarity, and every time it makes me want to go home and wash the night away.
“What would improve my night, love, is if you’d agree to have a drink with me. What do you say? I’ll make it worth your time.”
I’m about to tell him what I’ve told every other man who’s offered—I’m sorry, it’s my first night and I’m not allowed to mingle yet. Perhaps next time. Although I don’t suspect I’ll be returning after tonight, I’m so not cut out for this.
However, I don’t get the chance to say any of that because Darius speaks first.
