Chapter Twelve

Blake

About a year ago, Zane and I traveled to Winston Salem on business. Rumor had it that the hotel which had once belonged to Zane’s father was up for sale. The objective was to see if there was any truth to the rumor, and if so, for Zane to make an offer before the knowledge became public. While there, we visited a highly-recommended night club. The entertainment that night was Patrice Malone; a stunning woman with long blonde hair and a tight little body. Patrice was beautiful to look at, but more than that, she was incredibly talented. With a sultry, soulful voice, she was a complete throwback to a dying era of music; somewhere between Jazz and Big Band in sound. Zane hit the nail on the head when he referred to her as a rare bird.

After the show, we made a point of introducing ourselves; Zane, primarily for business purposes and me, well, let’s just say I had other interests in mind. As it turned out, Patrice was a talker. Over drinks I discovered that she’d just gotten out of a relationship. Being that I wasn’t in the market for a serious relationship, the timing worked. Patrice and I had a brief affair, which entailed me visiting Winston a handful of times, us having dinner and sex, and me leaving. Like most things in life, the arrangement worked...until it didn’t. The moment Patrice pushed for more, I ended things. Eventually, she moved on.

The moment Zane mentioned opening a second bar in Charlotte, Patrice came to mind. I’d heard through the grapevine she was engaged to a guy who lived in Charlotte, which was good for me as I wasn’t about to go there again. With Zane and Hunter’s blessing, I convinced Patrice to work for us at Sazerac’s. The week before Hadley arrived, she showed up with her fiancé in tow. The second she stepped foot in the bar, she started making demands—the dressing room was too small. The piano wasn’t high-end enough, the piano player was off tempo, and so on. This was a side of Patrice I was unfamiliar with. By the end of week one, she’d proven herself to be high strung, high maintenance, and a huge pain in the ass. After Zane agreed to expand the dressing room, she seemed to chill. That is, until this afternoon’s fiasco with Hadley. If I wasn’t so worried about losing our only source of entertainment right now, I would be laughing my ass off. Hadley may appear all sweet and innocent, but underneath it all, she was a scrapper.

Earlier in my office, when Patrice interrupted us, Hadley jumped to conclusions. I took one look at her scrunched face and knew exactly what she was thinking. Out of irritation, and because it wasn’t any of her business, I didn’t bother to correct her assumption. Had I any idea of what was about to transpire, however, I would have.

“Sh-sh-she h-h-humiliated m-m-me,” Patrice wailed.

“Here,” I shoved a bottle of water at her. Then I took a seat behind the desk and waited. A long moment passed before she dropped the dramatics and slumped onto the chair across from me. After swallowing down some water, she announced, “I want her fired.” This is exactly what I was afraid of. Wayne, the little fucker, was going to get an earful after this.

“I don’t blame you for being upset, Patrice, but when you think back on it, Hadley didn’t want to play the piano in the first place. She’s a chef, not a musician.” I sat back in my chair and gave her a moment to absorb my words. Patrice was insecure. This, and the fact that she was also petty, immature, and easily influenced, were just a few of the things I’d learned during our brief time together.

“With good reason,” she huffed. “I mean, did you hear how she mangled the song? The woman is a menace on the keys, and, by the way, her tempo was way off.”

“Maybe you should cut her some slack. After all, she was doing us a favor,” I suggested.

“I suppose you’re right,” she responded with a long, drawn out sigh, and I knew I had her.

A little less than an hour later, Patrice was convinced that it was nothing more than an unfortunate mistake and Hadley’s job was no longer in jeopardy...or so I thought.

On my way out the door, I ran into Zane.

“We good?” he asked, his voiced laced with humor.

“Yeah. No thanks to Wayne, though. Where is the fucker, by the way?” I scanned my eyes over the room but couldn’t see him.

“He took off about twenty minutes ago.” I just bet he did, the little weasel.

“And Hadley?” I asked.

“Cat took her home shortly after the incident.” The incident, I thought, and shook my head. Zane gave me a knowing smirk. “Dare I ask what that was about?”

I mulled over his question before deciding to shoot it straight with him. “When you banged on the office door this morning, Hadley and I were...uh...getting reacquainted.”

His brows shot up in surprise. “Hadley let you back in there? I’m surprised.”

“She would have, if not for Patrice prancing in and acting all...Patrice-like,” I grumbled. “Anyway, Hadley took one look at Patrice and made some incorrect assumptions. The rest you just witnessed.”

Zane’s lips split into a smile and I couldn’t help but laugh. The whole piano thing really was funny. “Payback is a bitch,” he noted through his laughter. I had to agree. Hadley was proving to be quite the little minx and I was becoming more and more intrigued with her by the second.

After my chat with Zane, I headed over to Whisky’s. Zane and I had worked out a schedule where we alternated shifts in order to give Lena and Hunter a break. As Lena had worked three nights in a row, it was my turn to pull a double; something I wasn’t looking forward to in the least bit. We were three days away from Sazerac’s debut opening and I was fucking beat. My focus should be on all of the shit we had to accomplish in the next three days, but instead it was on Hadley and tomorrow’s paternity test. The fact that I was potentially about to become a father was a total mind-fuck. The egomaniac in me was preening at the thought that Hadley might be carrying my child, while the rest of me was scared shitless. Apparently, I wasn’t frightened enough to stop trying to get back in Hadley’s panties, though. That in itself should tell me something. Instead of calling my lawyer and asking him to find a way out of this mess, I was trying to figure out ways to spend more time with Hadley, which was all kinds of messed up.

The next morning, I arrived at Sazerac’s to discover Wayne behind the bar. He was just the man I wanted to talk to. That is, until I saw Belinda perched on the stool in front of him. With the shit going down with Hadley, I couldn’t emphasize how not excited I was to see Belinda. Deciding the confrontation with Wayne could wait until later, I turned in the direction of the office.

“Vasco da Gama is in the hooooouse!” Wayne shouted from across the bar.

“Vasco da Gama is Portugese, dumb ass!” I shouted back.

“Oooooh, there’s nothing sexier than a history buff. How about we discuss our mutual love for the explorers over lunch today, Jefe!” he screeched. I could hear Belinda laughing as I pushed through the door and stalked down the hallway to the office and was struck with a sense of dread. Belinda was trouble and trouble was the last thing I needed right now.

An hour later, I was on a call with our wine distributor when Hadley stuck her head through the door. The first thing I noticed was her hair. She’d worn it down today. Memories of how soft it felt under my fingers jolted through me. She was wearing a peach-colored blouse tucked into a black skirt, and I was reminded that peach was the color of the dress she wore the night of the wedding. Visions of me taking her against the wall while she was wearing that dress flashed through my mind and my cock was instantly hard.

“We need to leave in an hour,” she mouthed when she saw me on the phone. I nodded in understanding and waited for her to escape back into the hallway before adjusting my erection. The call ran longer than expected, which squelched my plan to lock the door and take care of business before heading to find her.

The minute I stepped into the bar, I spotted them. Hadley’s back was to me and, from where I was standing, it looked as if Belinda and Patrice were blocking her exit. Fucking hell. Since when were Belinda and Patrice friends? And where was Wayne? I started toward them. Bits and pieces of their conversation filtered in as I got closer.

“I’m sorry I took your friend’s job. I wasn’t aware the position had been offered to her,” Hadley told Belinda. “And I’m sorry that my piano playing skills were subpar, however, being that I’m a chef, this shouldn’t surprise you,” she directed at Patrice.

“I know why you’re here. I overheard Zane talking to Cathryn about it. You might be carrying Blake’s brat in your belly but take it from me when I say he isn’t going to take well to being trapped,” Patrice declared, right as I stepped up behind Hadley. Both Patrice and Belinda’s eyes jerked to me and bulged in surprise, but being that Hadley’s back was to me, she wasn’t aware of my presence.

“You’ve got me!” Hadley said, her tone laced with contempt and sarcasm. “Wow, you two are a regular Cagney and Lacey. Tell me, how did you figure it out? Because, really, I planned it so carefully.” Neither woman said a word. They just stood there staring at me. I, however, was highly entertained. Folding my arms over my chest, I waited to see what Hadley would say next. She didn’t disappoint.

“You know what this is about don’t you?” she whispered in a conspiratorial tone. “Blake thinks it’s about the baby, but it’s really about the money. I hear he’s loaded.” I silently chuckled when she expelled a wistful sounding sigh and followed it with, “I’ve always dreamed of being rich.” Both women jumped when she threw up her hands, and shouted, “Yep! Just call me gold digger!” On that note, she then turned to leave. A strangled shriek escaped when she smacked right into me. As she pressed her hands to my chest in order to keep from toppling over, the warmth of her touch seared through me.

“Blake!” she gasped, clearly shocked to find me standing there.

Before Hadley did something else, such as call Patrice Patsy again or refer to Belinda as Boobzilla—something I’d heard both she and Wayne do on more than one occasion—I reached for her hand. Ignoring Patrice and Belinda, who were still busy gawking at us, I said, “Come on, Gold Digger, we’re going to be late for our appointment,” and pulled her in the direction of the door. Right as we breached the threshold, I glanced back over my shoulder and gave the two vipers a look of warning, letting them know that we would be discussing this incident later.

“I didn’t see you standing there,” Hadley muttered, as we made our way toward the front of the hotel.

“Clearly,” I mused, while trying not to laugh at the scene I’d just witnessed. When she let out a disgusted sounding huff, I lost the battle and let the laughter roll. She responded with another huff and a face scrunch, and I thought, this woman is something else.