I pulled out the pen and reached for his hand.
And like a girl at a club who had hopes for everything from getting thoroughly banged to having just met the father of her future children, I wrote my cell phone number on his palm.
When done, without a word, I walked out of the room, pulled out my phone and texted Harry so he could reverse fifty feet in the alley and take me home.
Chapter Four
Cool Customer
Nick
Nick walked down the stairs to find the girl waiting at the bottom, her eyes slits, her arms crossed on her chest, her fury unhidden.
When he got close, she leaned in and hissed, “You fucked her.”
The bitch didn’t turn off the cameras.
She’d watched.
Aggravating.
Without hesitation, he grabbed her upper arm and dragged her with him toward the back room.
The security guy came out of the vestibule as did the coat-check guy.
“Move another step, you’re both looking for a job,” he warned.
They stopped, as they would, considering six months ago, the Sebring brothers had secretly purchased the club. To keep it on the down low, both were silent partners. The old owners still ran it with the only change being that they didn’t pay Benito Valenzuela protection money. Knight and Nick were perfectly capable of protecting the club.
Valenzuela backed off without a fight considering he had recently drawn Knight’s attention and not in a good way. He was smart enough, in his current war with Chaos and the moves Georgia Shade was making, not to court a new enemy.
But as it served Nick’s purpose, the staff of the club now knew he was their boss.
Therefore, unimpeded, he pulled his employee into the back room and through it to the door at the rear.
“Nick, you’re holding me too tight,” she whined, twisting her arm against his hold.
He wasn’t. His hold was not tender but it wasn’t causing pain.
He knew how to cause pain in a variety of ways.
Deacon Gates had taught him.
He also knew how to contain someone and not to cause pain.
Hettie and Turner had taught him that.
Her fear at his actions and the fact she’d fucked up and was freaked was causing her pain.
He yanked her to his side as he hit the code into the keypad. He heard the latch unlock and pushed the door open.
He looked to the man inside watching a bank of twelve monitors with visuals that shifted every five seconds. Visuals that fed from the thirty cameras throughout the club.
The man took one look at Nick’s face and immediately lifted his hands, not at all happy he’d watched his boss fucking a woman considering that boss was right there, clearly about to get in his shit about it.
“She said—” he began.
“Delete it,” Nick ordered.
The man instantly turned to the monitors. One cleared then showed the now empty social chamber.
Within five seconds, it blanked.
Without another word, Nick dragged the girl out of the monitoring room and closed the door.
“You’re done,” he told her. “Pack your shit. Out.”
Her eyes got big.
“You’re firing me?” she asked.
Fuck, he hated stupid bitches.
He’d smelled that on her the minute he met her. It concerned him, not only for the purpose he bought the place—to get access to Olivia Shade—but because he owned the fucking place and no employer wanted a stupid bitch for an employee.
But she was liked by the old owners.
What she pulled, that no longer factored.
“Yes,” he answered, letting her go. “Get your shit and out.”
“But we—” she began.
“There is no we,” he told her.
Her head twitched in shock.
Yeah. He hated stupid bitches.
“But you took me to dinner,” she whispered. “And then we—”
“Fucked. You weren’t very good so I didn’t come back for more. Lesson. Usually, a man takes a woman out, fucks her, wants more, he does something about that and doesn’t let three weeks elapse between the first fuck and the next.”
“But, you’ve been flirting with me for—”
He knew what he’d been doing.
He’d needed something from her.
He got it.
He knew she felt his change when she snapped her mouth shut.
“Out,” he whispered.
She swallowed visibly but that was the extent of her further wasting his time. She hustled her admittedly sweet ass to get her shit and then she got out.
He pulled out his phone, started a string to the managers of the club and tapped in the text.
Find a new Ross.
He hit send and went home.
* * * * *
An hour later, Nick sat on his sofa, foot up, sole of his shoe pressed to the edge of the coffee table, the fingers of one hand wrapped around a glass of Dewar’s and ice, his other hand lifted, his eyes to Olivia Shade’s phone number written on his palm.
Christ, she was a cool customer.
After walking to him in that fucking skirt with that fucking look on her face that made him absolutely sure he could fucking smell the wet drenching her pussy…
Then taking his cock like she did, her eyes locked to his, her hips working his dick…
And finally coming with the demure noises a princess would make while her pussy told a different story and milked him hard.
After all that, walking like she was drifting through her living room in order to grab her panties, put them on, nab her purse and do nothing but nod before she was going to walk away from him.