“Looks like your little ploy worked,” James snickered. “I told Aaron you were interested in the Ferraros. All the servers here are. Pay someone to rip your blouse, and he’s all about saving you.” His voice was nasty. Sneering.
She stepped back away from him. When she stepped back, she did so right into his friend, Tom. He didn’t move. He felt like an oak tree, his body hard from all the workout and training for fights he’d done. She was used to men with hard bodies—she was from an area of cattle ranchers, men who rode and worked for a living—so Tom didn’t intimidate her.
Sasha glanced at him over her shoulder. Tom wore the same mask of contempt as James did. She stepped to the opposite side, moving closer to the bar and away from both men. She knew she could signal the security guards. Right now, they probably thought the men were being friendly. The fact that she could summon help made her feel confident.
“What did you do to get his attention?” Tom sneered. “Give him a blow job? I hear that’s one way girls like you snare wealthy men.”
James nudged her with his foot, keeping the action small so Alan, behind the bar, couldn’t see him. “You like giving blow jobs, Sasha?”
She sent him a small frown, feigning confusion and a wealth of being sorry for him. “Doesn’t your girlfriend like to give you blow jobs? Because if she doesn’t, maybe you need to figure out why. Cleanliness is at the top of the list, and then there’s what you eat. You want to take care of yourself or she’s just not going to go there.” She switched her attention to the bartender. “Do you have those drinks up yet, Alan?”
He grinned at her. “Right here, Sasha.” He pushed the tray toward her and then switched his attention to the two men. “What can I get for you? Usually your server will take your orders.”
“Our server is too busy flirting her ass off with the Ferraros to bother with us,” Tom said.
Alan glanced at his watch. “I don’t know when she would have had time to do that, sir. We keep strict watch on all servers and she’s more than meeting the requirements to keep drinks on the table, but if you want to file a complaint …”
James cursed and shook his head, turning away to start up the stairs after Sasha. She was very conscious of the two men coming up fast right behind her. She could actually feel hot breath on her neck as she neared the top. They were deliberately harassing her and she wasn’t certain why. As she gained the top tier she spun around and faced them.
“Did I do something to offend you?” she asked James deliberately, looking him straight in the eye. Let him defend himself for a change. “As I recall, you were the one who was all over me the other night, and in fact, you sent me chocolates to make amends. What changed between then and now?”
“You didn’t even bother to look around you at any other men,” James accused. “You set your sights on Ferraro, yet you flirted your ass off with Aaron, making him think he had a chance. You also made certain I was looking and so was Tom.”
Her breath caught in her throat. “I didn’t. I didn’t flirt with anyone that night. You were all drunk, and I thought all of you were a bunch of wealthy players with far too much money and no manners. None of you impressed me.”
Tom narrowed his eyes at her. “Yet you’re wearing Giovanni Ferraro’s ring.”
She supposed that was a bit of damning evidence against her. She shrugged. “I did nothing to either of you, or Aaron. If he wanted to see me outside of the club, he gave no indication. I appreciate that you’re both his good friends, but I’m a little tired of you acting as if it’s your right to persecute me.”
She swung away from them and went to the table where the four men waited for their drinks. One smiled at her. “Are they giving you a hard time?”
The question sounded casual enough, but something in the man’s voice caught her attention, as if he was really asking, not just being nice. She had the feeling that if she answered in the negative, he—and possibly the others—would jump up, pummel the two men and throw them out. She hadn’t noticed just how fit these men were beneath their flawless suits. More, they weren’t dancing. In fact, they weren’t even looking at the women on the club floor. She had put the table down to out-of-towners, businessmen looking for relaxation. Now, she wasn’t so certain.
“Seriously, honey,” another said. “If they’re giving you a hard time, say the word and we’ll take care of it.”
She flashed a quick smile and pocketed their generous tip. “Thanks, really, but I can handle them.” She turned away, hesitated and then turned back. They had to know, just to keep them safe. She didn’t want them taking matters into their own hands. “They’re mixed martial arts fighters. All of them at that table, and I believe most have won championships in their divisions. I really appreciate the offer, but security is excellent here. You just enjoy yourselves and the evening.” She gave them her high-wattage smile and moved to the next table.
Two gentlemen gave her smiles. They’d gone down to the dance floor twice the entire evening, but not at the same time. Both had been respectful as well as being generous tippers. She put their drinks in front of them and turned to go back down the stairs. Her stomach sank. Aaron stood waiting for her a few feet away.
“Ma’am”—one of the men stopped her, his voice pitched low—“if you need help, just shout out.”
Did she look that fragile, or worried? She didn’t like to think so. She wasn’t a woman who depended on others to defend herself. She flashed a smile and shook her head. “No problem, really. I’ll be fine.” She hoped she wasn’t lying to them—or to herself.
“Mr. Anderson? Is there something I can do for you?” She went straight up to him, deciding to get it over with.
“Aaron. Call me Aaron.”
She nodded. “Aaron then. What can I do for you?” She walked past him to his table, ignoring James and Tom.
Aaron leaned close to her. “I need to talk to you. Somewhere private.” He kept his voice to a near whisper, as if just standing there with her wasn’t going to cause undue attention.
“I’m working.” Sasha pointed out the obvious, setting his drink in front of his seat. She turned to go.
Anderson caught her wrist, a wad of bills in his other hand. “I’m serious. It’s for your own good. I’m not trying to be a dick, but someone needs to warn you.” He pushed the cash into her hand. “Please, just give me two minutes. And take your tip.”
Sasha hesitated and then nodded. “I’m heading to the bar to grab more drinks. You can either walk with me and talk, or be down there and talk while I get the drinks.” She was firm about that. She wasn’t going anywhere alone with him. She just didn’t trust anyone.
Giovanni was close, but that didn’t mean he could get to her if some crazy man with too many fantasies tried to hurt her. Sandlin needed her alive. It was possible—even probable—she’d been too stubborn about working this soon.
Aaron followed her as she made her way around the tables toward the stairs. There was just enough room for the two of them to walk side by side as they descended. She didn’t so much as glance at Giovanni. She had the feeling he wouldn’t like Aaron walking so close to her. She didn’t like it, especially every time his body brushed against hers. She was fairly sure Aaron was sliding up against her deliberately every chance he got.
“He’s a player,” Aaron announced.
Sasha glanced up at him. It wasn’t what she expected. Not at all. She’d braced herself for something different, something to do with the picture of her breasts exposed. She’d been getting a few propositions, and after what James and Tom had said to her and the way they’d treated her, she was expecting the same from Aaron.
“Excuse me?”