“Why would I come to your office? I need to be at the bar where I can see what’s going on.”
“You just got the job as my new assistant,” I tell her, watching her frown while wondering what the fuck I’m doing. This chick is a distraction I do not need right now, or ever for that matter.
“I already have a job,” she says as her frown grows deeper.
“Well, quit. You’re here every night, Mags, and you don’t leave ‘til the club closes at one. I can tell by the bags under your eyes that you’re exhausted.”
“Why would you want me to work here?” Now, isn’t that the million dollar question?
“Either take me up on my offer, or I’m going to have a restraining order placed against you and you won’t be allowed within a few hundred feet of the club.” I shrug like it’s all the same to me.
“You know this is malarkey, right?” she stands and I take her in fully for the first time tonight. Her loose, sheer, black dress is cinched with a thin belt emphasizing the dip in her waist between her full hips and breasts. Her hair is down in a mass of messy waves, and her makeup is subtle but still draws attention to her eyes, which look even more golden now that she’s standing in front of me looking pissed off.
“I’m not messing around with you anymore either. You take me up on my deal, or I’ll call the police and have them escort you off the premises,” I tell her, ignoring the fact I’m getting hard just looking at her.
“This is total crap,” she mumbles, looking around before meeting my eyes again.
“Take it or leave it.”
“Jeez, can I have a second to think?” she cries, and I feel my lips twitch, so I rub my hand down over my mouth to hide it.
“Ten,” I state, watching her eyes narrow. “Nine…eight…seven…” I continue counting, watching as she looks at me like she’s ready to kill me. “Six,” I raise a brow. “Five…”
“Fine!” she yells when I open my mouth to finish my countdown.
“Thought so,” I say triumphantly.
“You’re such a…you’re such a bigasterd,” she growls.
“A what?” I ask, and I can’t help it, I laugh at that one.
“When do I start?” she asks, ignoring my question while red spreads across her cheeks and down her neck.
“Tomorrow. Be here at five, and I’ll show you around the club and tell you your responsibilities.”
“Fine.”
“Now, let’s go. I have shit to do,” I tell her, standing and putting on my suit jacket.
“What?” she asks, backing up.
“I’m taking you to your car,” I tell her, walking past her toward the door.
“I can walk myself,” she says as her brows pull inward.
“Yeah, and I know you are your own brand of chaos, so I can’t leave you alone in the club until we build up the trust between us.”
“That is so…so stupid,” she mutters looking adorable.
“Now,” I tell her, swinging the door open and motioning her out ahead of me.
“Lint-licker,” she murmurs under her breath as she passes and then stomps down the stairs in front of me, giving me a view of her ass and legs that will be burned into my brain for years. Once we reach the club floor, I wrap my hand around the back of her neck, gaining a glare from her that I ignore as I lead her through the crowd.
Passing Teo, who is manning the front door, I give him a chin lift, watching his eyes dart between Maggie and me.
“You good?” I hear him ask, thinking he’s talking to me. I look at him like, Why the fuck are you asking that? Then I see his eyes are on Maggie.
“Yeah, thanks, Teo. Have a good night,” she says softly, smiling at him, which pisses me off.
“Where’s your car?” Her eyes fly to me, losing the softness instantly and she try’s to pull away.
“Down two blocks. I can walk myself. We’re outside, so you don’t have to worry about me causing any problems.”
“Come on.” I ignore her and take her hand, feeling the softness of it against my palm, and then tighten my fingers when she tries to pull away again.
Walking the two blocks, I try to understand what’s going on in my head. I have never let a woman effect me, but this woman has done just that without even realizing it, and I have no idea what the hell I’m going to do about it.
“This is my car,” she tells me, forcefully tugging her hand free of mine.
Looking at the car, my anger comes back tenfold. The thing looks like I could pick it up and toss it with one hand tied behind my back. It sure as hell doesn’t look safe for anyone to drive, especially in this town.
“What the hell is this?” I ask, watching her pull a key out of her bra—where I’m thinking she must keep everything, since the last time I was with her, that’s where her phone was.
“It’s a car.” She rolls her eyes.
“This is a death trap, Mags. One little bump in this piece of shit and you’re done,” I say, running a hand through my hair.
“It’s Maggie, M-A-G-G-I-E, Sven, and it’s safe. Plus, it’s good for the environment.”
“Yeah, because it kills people off, so there is one less person on Earth to fuck it up.”
“You’re very dramatic and you curse a lot,” she says, pushing me back a step, getting in behind the wheel, and slamming the door. Once the car is on, she rolls down the window. “See you tomorrow, Boss.”
“Drive carefully, and call the club when you get home,” I tell her, knowing she doesn’t have my cell number, which I’m going to have to fix tomorrow. Plus, I’ll get her a phone that isn’t from the dark ages and tell her it’s for work, because I know she won’t take it any other way.
“Yeah, I’m not calling you, but I’ll see you tomorrow,” she retorts and then pulls out of the small space, narrowly missing a car that’s passing by. Letting out an annoyed sigh, I turn and walk back to the club, mumbling under my breath the whole way, asking myself what the fuck am I doing?
Chapter 2
Maggie
Show Me the Money
LOOKING AT MYSELF in my full-length mirror, I turn to the side and make sure I look okay. Since I’m working with Sven, who I’ve seen wear nothing but suits, I chose to wear my sheer black sleeveless dress shirt with a high collar that ties with a bow at my neck. My cream-colored high-waisted skirt fits snuggly against my curves leaving my legs bare, showcasing one of my favorite pairs of leopard-print heels that have a pointy toe and a thin, spiked heel.
I left my long hair down except for my bangs, which I swept to the side and pinned back away from my face. I kept my makeup minimal, with just mascara and a little blush, not really in the mood to do a full face of makeup. Picking up my bag from my bed, I head into the living room where I find my sister, Morgan, sitting on the couch, watching TV. She has healed a lot over the last couple weeks, but she’s still carrying bruises that remind me of what could have happened, that I could have lost her.
“Are you going to work?” she asks, pressing pause on the show she’s watching.
“Yeah, there are leftovers in the fridge if you get hungry. I’m not sure what time I’ll be home, but if you need me, I have my cell on me,” I tell her as I pick up my car keys from the counter in the kitchen.