Page 73 of A Dangerous Kind of Love

Our manager, Stacy, steps up beside us. “Ladies, I love you, but I need you back on the floor. Katie, that table over there.”

She points toward the corner.

“They’re asking for you.”

I shoot Sarah a look before grabbing my pad and pen, pushing off the bar and heading across the room. By the time I reach the table, I clock them instantly. It’s a group of guys, mid to late twenties, drinks already in front of them. Most of their attention is locked on the game playing overhead.

Except for one. He’s watching me.

“Hey,” he says, leaning forward slightly. “You came over.”

“My manager said you needed something,” I say, keeping my tone even as I stop at the edge of the table.

“I’ve been watching you,” he says, smiling. “You’re really good at your job.”

“Cool,” I say. “Can I get you something?”

He pushes back from his chair and stands, and I immediately register the height difference. He’s just as tall as Michael. Maybe taller. I take a step back, but he follows.

“Your number.”

“Sorry, I have a boyfriend,” I say, already turning to leave.

His hand closes around my wrist.

“Hey.”

My jaw tightens. “Let go of me. Right fucking now.”

He grins, stepping closer, crowding into my space. He pins me right up against the wall.

“Oh, we’ve got a feisty one.”

“Let her go, man,” someone at the table says.

He runs his tongue across his teeth, smirking before finally letting go. “Sorry.”

I don’t look to see who said it. I turn and head straight for the bar, my hands already shaking. Sarah and Stacy are laughing at something when I get back, but the second they see my face, it drops.

“Katie, what happened?” Sarah asks, already moving in front of me.

My heart is racing. My breaths are uneven, and I feel lightheaded.

“A guy at that table,” I manage. “He grabbed me.”

“What the hell?” Stacy says, already stepping around us. “Which one?”

I turn and point him out. She calls for Rick, our head of security as she heads toward the table. I watch as Rick steps in and calmly tells him he needs to leave. The guy doesn’t budge, only stares at him.

“I said,” Rick’s voice is loud enough to be heard now. “You need to leave.”

The guy just smirks. Rick grabs his arm. The guy tries to jerk away, but Rick’s bigger, stronger, and completely unfazed. He pulls him out of the chair and starts dragging him across the floor toward the door.

The guy’s yelling the whole time, loud enough to carry across the bar, drawing attention whether anyone wants to look or not. Right before they reach the door, he twists around, eyes locking on me.

“Bitch!” he shouts.

Rick shoves him out the door.