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My phone buzzes in my bag. It’s Mom asking how long I’m going to be. She’s probably exhausted, and I feel guilty enough to consider calling an Uber rather than waiting for the bus.
Normally I’d change back into my work clothes, but it will take time I can’t afford, so I quickly pull my hoodie on, leave the stack of paperwork, and head outside in search of the nearest exit. Of course, the place is now busy with the early crowd, and because it’s been six months I don’t remember where the exits are.
Venom is huge. It stretches over several floors, with a VIP area on the top floor. Music pumps out from hidden speakers and dancers are already shaking their stuff in the birdcages and on the podiums, with eager guys leering at them.
The thought of these same guys leering at me in a day or two makes me feel queasy, but I quickly shove that thought down. The amount I’ll earn for each shift more than makes up for a few skeevy guys drooling over my tits and ass. I can deal. It’s no worse than my current boss feeling me up at every opportunity.
I pull my hood up to cover my face as much as possible and push through the people hovering near the bar. I’m almost to the stairs when a hand grabs my wrist.
“Hey cutie, not seen you in here before?” The guy is already drunk. He’s wearing an expensive suit and the Patek Phillipe watch on his wrist probably cost more than I earn in a year. From the way his cheeks are flushed and his pupils dilated, he’s clearly on some kind of bender and looking for a good time. Why he’s picked on me is anybody’s guess. There are several scantily clad dancers nearby, but for some reason, his focus is onmyboobs and ass.
“Let go of my wrist,” I hiss, not wanting to draw attention to myself. There are security guys all over the club, here to protectthe dancers and discourage trouble, but I can’t see any of them nearby.
“Just being friendly,” the guy says, licking his lips as he takes in my tight hot pants and long legs. “I know all the dancers and you’re new. I like to get to know the new girls.”
I have a feeling the girls don’t appreciate his attention. I know I don’t. He’s a massive creep. The whole situation is giving me deja vu vibes from the last time I was in Venom.
“I’m not working so get the fuck off me before I scream for help and you get your ass kicked out.”
Mr. Creep frowns. “That’s not very friendly.”
“I’m not the friendly type.”
I try to pull away, but this guy is stronger than he looks. I already know I’ll have bruises, which will be hard to explain to Mom. She thinks I’m interviewing for a job at the local 7-11 store.
The back of my neck prickles and someone appears on my left. The temperature drops by at least ten degrees and Mr. Creep lets go of my wrist like I have leprosy. I rub my sore skin and glare at him.
“You’ve been warned before about touching the girls,” Romano says, the chill in his voice so deep goosebumps break out all over my arms.
Chapter 12
Romano
If there’s one thing we don’t allow in our club, it’s men hitting on the dancers. Guys can look but they don’t touch. Unless the girl wants to hang out with the guy in her free time, we have a zero-tolerance policy, and this guy is already on his last warning.
Benson is hovering in the shadows to my left, watching the situation. He’ll step in if things go south, but he won’t need to. Mitch Lebatt knows exactly who I am and right now, he’s shitting himself.
This woman seems to attract men with bad intentions like I attract gold diggers. No doubt Roxy…sorry…Rorywould argue I’m a man with bad intentions, but that’s not currently up for discussion.
Rory steps back rubbing her wrist where Mitch had hold of her. The lights are low here but I’m not blind; I can see purple finger bruises blooming on her pale skin. If Lebatt wasn’t such a well-known attorney, I’d haul his ass out back and put a fucking bullet in his brain. The guy is a real asshole and the fact he’s hurt Rory makes my blood boil.
It occurs to me that my reaction is ridiculous, given he hassled another girl last week and I didn’t get involved, but seeing him mess with Rory pushes all my buttons.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Faugno, I wasn’t thinking…I must have misread the signals…”
“Really? She told you twice to leave her alone.”
Lebatt swallows hard, his eyes flicking between me - the biggest threat in the room - and Rory, who seems completely unmoved by his protestations of innocence. She stands with her arms folded, eyes narrowed, and an expression of disgust on her gorgeous face. I try not to stare at her tits, but it's hard when she pushes them up so temptingly. She’s a little bit more than a handful and I’m itching to get my hands on her again.
“Men like you make me sick,” she spits. “Thinking you can take what you want.” It feels like she’s not just talking about Labatt, and I wonder who else has been harassing her. If she tells me, I’ll happily ensure they don’t lay another finger on her. Ever.
“Apologize to the lady,” I tell the asshole.
He hesitates so I pull my Glock out and press it against his nuts. Men like this often need a reminder of who the real predator is.
“Fucking apologize before I blow your dick off. Pretty sure your wife will thank me.”
Labatt turns a nasty shade of green and swallows hard. He knows he’s in the shit. I wouldn’t normally pull a stunt like this in the middle of the club, where people can see us, but it’s dark and there isn’t anyone nearby. Besides, even if he files a complaint, it won’t get him anywhere. We own this city and he’s a tiny minnow in a piranha-infested lake.
