“So.”Clarissa drummed her fingers on the bar counter and leaned forward. She looked from side to side, as if conspiring, then leaned a little closer yet. The V of her halter top plunged low, and the rounds of her breasts grew plumper as gravity did its job. Marcus’ eyes didn’t dip, not even for a second. Instead, he met Clarissa’s gaze as she stared holes through him. Her brows were knitted in hostility. “Handsoff.”
“I don’t even know what I’m being accused of putting myhandson.”
“You’ll know soon enough.” Clarissa glanced off to the side again. She had to be waiting for something. “All you need to know is to keep yourhandsoff.”
“You got it.” Marcus narrowed an eye, still trying to figure out what she was on about. “How about I get my hands on a Knob Creek, neat instead? Or is that what you mean? Is this anintervention?”
Clarissa shot him a look made to pierce him from one end to the other, then pushed off the bar and fixed his drink. “You can get your hands on as much alcohol as you’d like as long as you remember therules.”
It wasn’t unusual for Clarissa to be cryptic, and even less unusual for her to be dramatic. Marcus didn’t let her behavior get to him. Whatever was bothering her likely wouldn’t bother her come tomorrow. If he ignored the problem, it wouldgoaway.
“My career is based on following the rules.” Marcus watched as she poured. “If I didn’t follow the rules, I’d be out on my ass. The bar wouldn’t take too kindly to a rogue lawyer, no matter how successfulheis.”
“Acriminal defenselawyer.” Clarissa slid the drink across the table. Marcus stopped it with his palm. “Your career is all aboutbendingthe rules, Marcus. Don’t try to pretend itisn’t.”
She had a point. He raised his glass in a toast and sipped. The whiskey went down smooth, and he closed his eyes and reveled in it. Warmth bloomed from his stomach and wove upward, creeping through hischest.
It was going to be a goodnight.
“So behave yourself,” Clarissa said. It sounded like she was winding down. “It’s a busy night, and I’d appreciate it if youplayednice.”
“Playing nice is what I do.” Marcus set his drink down and worked his thumb thoughtfully along the rim. “I promise, you don’t have to worryaboutme.”
Clarissa’s eyes narrowed and her lips twitched, but she said nothing. Whatever crime she was preemptively accusing him of, Marcus was innocent, and sheknewit.
A shadow moved in Marcus’ peripheral vision as someone joined Clarissa behind the bar. Vanessa, one of Clarissa’s girls, had to be coming back to the bar after delivering drinks. Marcus lifted his chin and turned his head to say hello when hefroze.
It wasn’t Vanessa who’d joined Clarissa behind the bar—in her place stood a young man Marcus had never seenbefore.
The whole hands-off fiasco made sense now. Marcus was smitten, and he let himself take in his new obsession indetail.
Dark slacks hugged the young man’s slender legs and sat on his hips in just the right way to show off his ass. The understated dress shirt he wore, top button popped, showed off creamy skin. Light made his pale blond hair turn white, and a tasteful shadow of stubble lined his delicate jaw. Marcus didn’t need to breathe him in to know that he was an omega—his refined features spoke for him. There was delicacy in his posture and a cut to the angles of his face that fit no alpha, and that few betas could hope toembody.
A sight like him quenched the thirst in Marcus’ soul better than whiskey evercould.
Somethingnew.
Marcus leaned forward and attempted to get a better look at the young man’s face, but he didn’t spare Marcus a glance. Instead, he spoke into Clarissa’s ear, leaning so close that Marcus was momentarily envious. Clarissa replied in kind, and a few moments later, the young man was back on the floor, tending to a booth tucked away in the corner near thestairs.
Marcus watched him go, and when he turned his head back to face forward, Clarissa was standing in front of him, her hands on her hips and her eyes narrowed. “Handsoff.”
“What’s his name?” Marcusasked.
“As far as you’re concerned, he doesn’thaveone.”
The comment curled Marcus’ lips. Achallenge. “You’re right. It doesn’t matter what his name is. I’ll be giving him a new one,anyway.”
Marcus slid off the bar stool and navigated the tables dividing him from the booths. Before he could go far, a hand wrapped around his wrist and stopped him. He looked over his shoulder to find Clarissa standing there, face as stern as it had been behindthebar.
“What are the rules?” Clarissa asked, her voice low. It cut through the thud of the bass, crystal clear to Marcus, but inaudible to anyone else on the secondfloor.
“Treat others with respect and always obtain consent,” Marcus recited. The Shepherd’s rules were ingrained in himbynow.
“And no playing with the staff,” Clarissa finished for him. “It’s in the membership guidelines, Marcus. If you go after that boy, Iwillreport it to Sterling. I’m not losing another employee because you decided to get handsy. It doesn’t matter if he’s your type—he’soff-limits.”
“Right.” Marcus ran his tongue along the back of his teeth, looking away from Clarissa to study the young man. He was laughing, but Marcus couldn’t hear the sound. “No playing with thestaff.”
What a shame it was that a boy like that would be on the wrong side of the bar. Marcus watched as he finished taking an order and made his way back to the bar only to spot Clarissa on the floor, standing beside Marcus. There was a moment where recognition brightened the young man’s eyes, but that moment was fleeting at best, because in the next second his gaze metMarcus’.
