Gian
I stalked the perimeter of the VIP room of my club. The only way to get in here tonight was if you had over a three-million-dollar net worth, you passed our background check, and you knew the secret password.
Tony and Sal had set up six round tables. One table was dedicated to blackjack, and the remaining five were reserved for high-stakes poker. Piles of red, blue, and white chips sat in front of every player, only because the games started less than an hour ago, and the winner and losers weren’t evident yet. Cigar smoke curled into my nose, burning my lungs. I hated the sickly sweet scent infinitely more than cigarette smoke.
I paused at one table to watch the new dealer. The cards waterfalled through his fingers, his attention remaining fixed on the players at his table. While he was damned good at his job, I still didn’t trust him. You could never be too careful. There were too many people and organizations, both criminal and legitimate, clamoring to infiltrate the Trassato family and take us down.
Angela slid into the lap of the man directly in front of me, rubbing herself against him like a cat. “You look like you need a good luck charm,” she practically purred.
Tony and Sal had staffed the event tonight, and the minute I heard her voice, I regretted my decision to delegate the details. Everything from her blonde hair and overly plump lips grated on my last fucking nerve. I couldn’t remember why I hired her in the first place. She was a gorgeous in an overly groomed way, except nothing about her appealed to me anymore. The entire week she had followed me around like a lost puppy making suggestive comments. By mid-week, I decided to fire her, but I couldn’t pull the trigger until after tonight.
“Angela,” I snapped, “let the man play his fucking game. You’re here to serve drinks, not give lap dances.”
Her red-stained lips hinged open.
“Aw, she’s not bothering me,” the nearly bald man muttered, running his hand up the inside of her bare, overly tanned thigh.
“You’re here to play poker,” I said. “Either do it or get the fuck out.”
“Fine. Fine.” He held up his hands. “I’m playing.”
I pointed at Angela then to the far corner of the room. “Follow me.”
Angela scooted off his lap, her heavily made-up eyes narrowed into slits. She huffed and stomped across the floor on her sky-high heels.
“What was that about?” she hissed.
The pungent smell of alcohol wafted across my face.
Fucking hell.
I didn’t allow my employees to drink during working hours. There was too much at stake, especially tonight.
“You’re here to serve drinks to my guests, not yourself.”
She swayed on her feet, and I knew the alcohol I smelled on her breath wasn’t the result of a few sips. I had invested a lot of money into this game. She’d fuck up the entire night if I didn’t get her out of here. She curled her pointy fingernails around the lapel of my jacket, and I wasn’t sure if she wanted my attention or if she needed help standing.
“I only want to make sure they have a good time.” She pushed out her lower lip into a practiced pout. “Isn’t that what you want?”
“Great. Serve them drinks, flirt a little, but stay the hell out of the players’ laps.”
“Wait. I know what this is about.” She flipped her hair over her shoulder, a predatory smirk on her face. “You’re jealous. You’ve been ignoring me for weeks, pretending you weren’t interested, and now you can’t stand the thought of me touching another man. You still want me.”
“You’re drunk. Do me a favor. Take a thirty-minute break, drink lots of water, and don’t touch another sip of alcohol for the rest of the damn night.”
She leaned forward, her breasts brushing against my chest. “You can have me. All you have to do is say the word. It’ll be our little secret. Nobody has to know. Not Tony, not Sal. And that fiancée you keep hidden away…” She clumsily snapped her fingers a few times. “What’s her name again? I heard the guys talking about her.”
“She’s none of your business. Don’t mention her ever again,” I growled.
She pushed up onto her tiptoes, brushing her lips against my neck. A shiver of disgust rushed down my spine.
“What your fiancée doesn’t know won’t hurt her. We’ll have a good time. Do you want to go somewhere private for a do-over? You won’t regret it. I promise.”
If Angela thought I’d lay a finger on her drunk ass, she was thicker than I suspected. I gritted my teeth and the edges of my vision blurred, pulsing in time with my escalating anger.
Anger at myself for entertaining hooking up with her to get Evie out of my head. Anger at her for misreading every blatant dismissal I tossed in her direction. Anger that I didn’t fire her earlier in the week.
While I would never lay a hand on a woman, right now she was tempting me to do exactly that. “Go into my fucking office. I’ll meet you there in twenty minutes. We need to talk.”
Grinning like an idiot, she took a few micro-steps backward. “Right now? Are you sure you don’t want me to work?”
I flicked my wrist. “I’ll grab one of the other bartenders. You’re done for the night.”