I walk into the Health Inspector’s office like I owe the fucking place. The mini blinds on the windows are drawn, which gives the receptionist’s area a dingy and dark feel, ironic given that his fucking job is to tell people how to clean.

A sound of a little bell chimes through the room when I close the door behind me, alerting the secretary at the front desk that there’s a customer walking in.

“Good afternoon,” she says cheerily.

Okay, this might be easier than I fucking think. I paint on my most charming and charismatic smile as I approach the woman.

She’s a little on the heavier side and has the best-looking set of birthing hips ever. She’s wearing a burgundy infinity scarf even though it’s fucking summer outside. She has blonde hair that’s pulled back in a bun with a cute set of bangs.

“Hi there, sweetie.” I grin at her, flashing my perfectly straight, white teeth. I run a hand through my full, dark thick hair for effect and wink at her.

I notice she has a half-eaten donut lying on a napkin beside her keyboard.

“Having a little afternoon snack?” I point to the donut.

She giggles. “You know, just a pick-me up of sorts to get me through the rest of the afternoon.”

“I hear you on that one,” I say, trying to be relatable even though I don’t eat fucking junk food.

Have you seen my muscular body? I pride myself on having almost no body fat.

She continues to chuckle. “Can I help you with something?”

“I’m sure you can.” I wink at her.

She blushes and places a hand over her mouth.

“I’m looking for Leonard French.” I ask for the Health Inspector who’s ruining my fucking life one minute at a time.

The woman gives me a slight nod and then looks at her computer screen. “He’s actually not in a meeting right now,” she says.

“Wonderful,” I exclaim and open my arms. “Perfect timing, eh?”

The woman looks sincerely apologetic and perhaps even a little sheepish. “Unfortunately, Mr. French doesn’t normally allow for impromptu meetings.” She looks up at me and offers another solution. “If you’d like, I can try to squeeze you in tomorrow.”

I lean against the side of her desk. “Hmm,” I whisper. “I don’t think tomorrow will work. You see, I’m having sort of a health inspection emergency…” I trail off, hoping that my sweet talk and feigned desperation will help me here.

“Well…I…uh…” The woman looks between me and the computer, clearly feeling backed up into a corner of indecision about whether to send me away or allow me to talk to Inspector French.

“It’s really fine,” I continue, piling on the charm to try to convince her. “We’ve actually met before, last night even. He might be expecting me, to be honest.”

Okay, so I know he’s not expecting me to barge right into his office, but the other part of my little white lie has some truth to it. I did actually meet him last night.

The woman looks truly torn, but I egg her on further. “Come on, I’m having a really shit day,” I tell her, laying it on thick. “You would be my hero if you let me go talk to him. And by the way, I love your scarf.” I point to her neck.

She blushes again, and I can tell she’s soaking in all the fucking compliments I’m pouring her way. And probably fucking soaking her panties. The sad bitch probably goes home alone to eat her feelings every night. If I can help her feel better about herself for five fucking minutes, then just call me the good Samaritan of the day.

“Okay,” she finally caves. “You can go back there on the one condition—that you tell him I protested,” she says.

“Trust me, that won’t be a problem,” I say to her and give her another wink.

She takes a deep breath as if she’s excited just to be talking to a guy as hot as myself. “If you go through that set of double doors, go all the way to the end of the hallway and turn left. His office is the first one on the left.”

She points in the direction she’s instructing me to go.

I nod. “Thank you so much, darling.” I blow her a kiss before walking away.

A few seconds later, I burst into the inspector’s office, not giving two shits what he’s fucking doing in there. As soon as he sees me, he jumps up from his computer and peers towards the door as if he’s expecting a fucking bodyguard to come and rescue him.

He has a black eye from where I punched him. Good for the little fucker, that should teach him a lesson not to fucking mess with the master.

“What the hell are you doing here?” he asks as he takes a few defensive steps backwards.

“I’m here to bring Christmas a little early this year,” I say and pull out my checkbook.

“What is this?” He points to it as I scrawl out an amount on its surface.

“Consider it a peace offering.” I grin at him as I tear the check from the book.

I toss it to him and he looks at it, his eyes growing wider by the second.

“Twenty-thousand dollars? What the hell is this for?” He waves the check in the air but then quickly looks out the office door as if he’s paranoid someone will walk in.

“I need my Gold Membership reinstated at Club Expose,” I say matter-of-factly.

“I can’t help you.” He immediately shakes his head and tries to hand the check back to me, but I refuse.

“I think you’re mistaken,” I say and shove the money on paper back to him. “This is a non-optional negotiation here.”

I picture the hot as fuck stripper Crystal in my mind, and she’s the fuel I need to make sure this guy agrees to my plan. In my mind, I’m willing to do whatever it takes to get my suspension from the club lifted and removed from my record.

To my surprise, the inspector starts laughing.

“Is there something fucking funny?” I give him a sour look.

French scratches his head with his long, lanky fucking fingers. “Yeah, actually there is. Your money isn’t necessary, especially not from the douche who came on my shoe.”

I shift my weight and square my jaw. “Do you have a point to your bullshit babbling?” I snarl.

“Beyond that, if you think I’m the one in charge of suspensions, you’re sorely mistaken.” French shakes his head. “It’s my job to simply inform the board that the club will be failing the inspection, and I have to give them an honest reason why.”

“So you fucking tattled on me like this is fucking fifth grade?” I scoff.

“I’m just doing my job, man.” The guy raises his hands defensively. “Whatever happens after that is beyond my control.”

“Just go back to the board and tell them you changed your mind or something,” I toss out, finding any excuse that comes to mind.

“Sorry, no can do,” the jerk says, and continues to shake his head. “The board already tried to pay me off to pass the inspection. I guess they beat you to the punch,” he adds with a flare of smugness.

“So, are you telling me you’re fucking useless?” I shout.

“I’m saying that it looks like your suspension is your punishment.” He raises his eyebrows at me.

I want to punch him in his fucking face again and even out his black eyes for symmetry, but I hold back because I know it’ll get me fucking nowhere.

This fucking weasel isn’t going to do shit to help me.

French’s expression softens, but only slightly. “If you want to have your suspension reversed, then you’ll have to go back to the club and take it up with them. Only the owners have the power to change that decision.”

“Thanks for nothing,” I murmur, and stalk out of the office.

Great. Just fucking great.

Well, I guess I need to place Plan B into motion—if only I fucking knew what Plan B was.