Asshole.
He wouldn’t work a day in Vegas, not a fucking day. What he would do was be fired and then probably disappear somewhere in the desert, never to be seen again. I would probably cheer if that actually happened. They are all so inept at their damn jobs.
Tugging the door open, I slip inside the club. The lights are on, the whole room bathed in the bright glow of fluorescence. It makes the place seem seedy. You can see how worn the furniture is, every little scrape and scar that mars the wood of the tables and chairs.
The thing is, this is a nice club, not a shithole, so even though it’s a little beat up in the daylight, at night, with the lights dimmed, it’s nothing short of fabulous. I move toward the back of the club and only stop when I hear Anna call out my name.
I stop and turn to look toward her voice. She’s standing in the hallway that leads to the owner’s office. The expression she wears is nothing short of what I would consider worrisome.
“Anna?” I ask as I make my way toward her. “Is everything okay?”
Her lips twitch into a smirk, then she presses them together in a thin line. “Boss wants a meeting.”
She spins around and walks down the long, dark hallway. I follow behind her, albeit reluctantly. I’m not sure what she wants with me, what anyone would want with me here. I’m only a dancer, and a new one at that.
Anna stops at a door, wrapping her fingers around the doorknob, then she pushes it open and stands to the side. I walk past her into the office, stopping when I’m a few feet inside the room. The owner is sitting behind his desk.
I don’t know anything about anything.
And less about something.
I wait for him to speak.
The owner. The boss.
He lifts his focus from his desk, his eyes finding mine instantly. “Miss Monroe,” he says.
“Mr. Bennet,” I reply.
He clears his throat and gestures to the empty chair that sits across the desk. Setting my duffel bag down on the floor beside my feet, I sink down into the chair, my gaze never leaving his.
“I have a meeting tomorrow morning with a new security company. I wanted to know how you felt about the current security team. You’re the only dancer I have who has worked in a larger venue.”
I almost laugh.
“You don’t want my opinion,” I state.
He chuckles, his gaze searching mine for a moment before he speaks. “I do want your opinion, Millie. I want it badly, actually.”
Sinking my teeth into my bottom lip, I inhale a long breath through my nose before I exhale slowly. I flick my gaze to his, holding it for a long moment in silence before I speak.
“The men you have here look great. They’re in nice clothes and seem somewhat professional.”
“But?” he prompts.
“They are not professional,” I blurt out. “I think they’re taking money to turn a blind eye to things. The safety of the dancers worries me.”
He dips his chin once, then clears his throat, his eyes never leaving mine. “And none of this would fly in Vegas,” he states.
He’s not really asking me, but I respond to him anyway. “None of it would fly in Vegas. They would be dead.”
“That’s all I needed to know,” he says, his eyes still on mine. “Thank you, Millie. I’m going to bring in a new crew. They’re a little scarier to the eye, but they will be better for the club, I think.”
“Scarier?” I ask.
He hums. “Scarier. Bikers.”
I’m not sure if he can see the blood drain from my face, but I feel it anyway. “Bikers?” I ask in a whisper.
