A Dirty Business (Kings of New York #1)(19)

I leaned back to make sure I heard him right. “What?” I’d never been up there. I didn’t even know where to go.

He nodded upstairs. “Don’t say anything, just go in and stay behind the bar. These are VIP, so keep your mouth shut, smile, and don’t act up.”

I bristled because what the fuck did he mean by “act up”?

He let out a deep breath before counting to five. Not ten. Five. “These guys are important. My normal girls are gone, and I know these two.” He glanced in Justin’s direction before adding, “Do not fuck this up.”

“I’ve been working for you for four years. When have I ever fucked up?”

His eyes were shining bright, fiercely. “I’m not talking about drinks.”

Oh, snap. Not a fan of his right now, but I kept my mouth shut and listened when he told me where to go. I was assuming the VIP section was fully stocked, and when he stopped giving me instructions, I headed off. I gave Kelly a last cursory look, and she seemed fine. Justin had moved down a little, but he remained close enough to overhear I was being sent off, and he moved to help cover my area. “I’ll watch her.”

Normally I’d make a comment about how that’s what I was afraid of, but not this time. Justin seemed sincere, and my gut was saying he was already in love, but there wasn’t much I could do about anything, so I headed toward the locker area. I freshened up a bit, readjusted my uniform, which was a tight black top, and because I was in the bartender section, I was able to wear black pants. They looked dressy, but they felt like yoga pants.

Once I was done, I went off for the mysterious VIP section.

This one was on the sixth floor. I’d gone up as far as the fourth, but not the fifth or sixth.

Going to the only elevator that allowed entry for those floors, I saw the bouncer reach for his radio. A second later, Anthony’s voice came over. “She’s good. Sixth floor. Get her situated, Monty.”

Monty. I half grinned, but seeing the wall on his face, I didn’t feel like sharing that my last name was Montell and I’d been called Monty in grade school. This Monty didn’t seem to care.

He hit the button. The elevator arrived, and he got on with me.

He had to put in a special code for the elevator. I memorized it, just in case.

When we got to the floor, he led the way.

It was a simple layout. Three doors. He pointed out the first to the right. “Your bathroom.”

I nodded, noting the your emphasis.

The door on the left was labeled STAIRS, so that was self-explanatory.

The middle door opened to a large apartment-like floor. He motioned to the bar area, and I went right behind, starting to find where all the bottles were kept. There was a phone. I saw the instructions and knew I would use that to order more inventory. “I call down for bottle service?”

He nodded before moving through the place and going into the rooms. He came back, settling by the bar. “These guys are big, but they’re respectable. If you want to fuck ’em, you can, but you don’t have to. They aren’t like that.”

Jesus. Yeah. This place definitely had some shade. “I’m not like that, in any situation.”

He barely nodded my way, watching for the door. “It’s usually the case where the girls want them, not the other way, not with these guys, but you do you. I’m security for the floor, just in case.”

In case of what?



We waited thirty minutes. Nothing.

Another thirty. Nothing.

Two hours later, an hour before the club was supposed to close, Monty’s radio crackled to life.

I’d taken to sitting on the counter with my phone out, dwelling on the loss of tips. Monty was doing the same, and not a word was spoken between us. I didn’t think Monty cared. I knew I didn’t. He popped in his earpiece and nodded to me. “They’re coming.”

He went to the door and propped it open.

The elevator pinged its arrival. The doors slid open, and instead of laughter or shouting, which was the norm for this place, there was nothing.

A male came inside, looking at his phone before he gave me an absentminded look, but he did a double take, seeing me, and he ground to a halt.

I frowned, not knowing this guy, but he was gorgeous. Dark features. Black hair. Nearly black eyes. He was sleek and toned, and the air rippled around him, exuding he was dangerous and powerful. This guy was not one to mess around with, and I braced myself before all of his gaze was fixed on me. Those eyes sharpened, and a smirk showed before he half turned for the second guy coming in behind him.

“Someone fucked up,” he said, addressing the other man before I saw who he was.

“What?”

I sucked in air, my whole body freezing, because . . .

I knew that voice. And as he came forward, stepping around his friend, I was pierced by those same eyes that had haunted me over the last week.

It was him.

And he was staring back at me in shock, but also some anger.

He was not happy to see me.





CHAPTER FIFTEEN


TRACE


I was staring at her, at who I’d been fucking obsessed with over the entire week, and I’d just resolved to shut everything down. But here she was, staring back at me, every bit as surprised as I was, and then her eyes cooled and she flinched, turning away.