Especially after we both said we’d see each other tonight. Marco won’t know anything. He sleeps most of the day, and if it wasn’t for his slight tan, I’d swear he’s a vampire, and most of the dancers are the same. Instead, I find Sarah, a newbie dancer who’s wearing a lot more clothing than normal as she carries a pitcher of margaritas through the club. “Hey, where’s Meghan?”
Sarah delivers her pitcher, earning her ‘tip’ with a little flirt and a shake of her curvy hip before giving me a smile. “Oh, I’m covering her shift. She texted saying something came up.”
“I see. What happened?”
Sarah shrugs, already walking away as another table waves for her attention. “I don’t know what though. Sorry.”
I grit my teeth, knowing Meghan was fine when I left this morning. I thought she was even looking forward to seeing me when she came to work, and I’ll admit that I’ve spent a decent amount of time today with some extra pep in my step at the thought. Sure, something innocent could’ve come up, but after the incident last night, I hope she’s okay.
But the question, the doubt creates a tension in my gut that twists and gnaws at me. What’s worse is that I can’t even do anything about it. I’ve got a job to do here, and it’s not like Sarah could cover my job.
“Hey, Shane.”
I look over from my perch by the door to see Marco waving at me. We’re in between dances, so he doesn’t have to yell or use the walkie-talkie system we have. Getting up, I walk over, still keeping my eyes on the patrons. “Yo, Marco.”
“That was Dominick on the phone,” he says. “Asked to see you in the office.”
I nod, walking over to Logan, the other guy working security tonight, and ask him to cover the door for a minute while I talk to the boss. Logan’s a MMA fighter who works here part-time to help cover costs. With his bald head and trimmed goatee, he’s intimidating enough that I don’t have to worry.
Comfortable the floor is secure, I head upstairs to Dominick’s office and give two quick raps on the door. A moment later, a deep voice inside calls out. “Enter.”
Even though I was invited in, I open the door slowly, both to give anyone inside time to get decent and so that I can make sure some goon isn’t going to grab me as I enter.
Dominick isn’t a guy you mess with, and while I never have, I don’t want to be caught unaware. But all seems chill as I enter, Dominick sitting behind his large mirrored desk.
The whole room is done in contemporary modern lines, mirrors here, low-slung leather chairs there, all surrounded by sleek black shiny walls. Of course, those are one-way mirrors that look onto the dance floor and audience area downstairs, but they’re good quality so the noise in here is barely noticeable unless Dom turns on the speakers. Dominick is watching, always watching what happens in Petals since it’s his club, his territory.
I sit in one of the white leather chairs, although I don’t dare get comfortable and familiar in his office, not with the Desert Eagle I know he keeps under his desktop. Instead, I lean forward, appearing poised and ready for anything. “What can I do for you, sir?”
Dom’s the only man I call sir, and while I don’t like it, it makes my life a lot easier. He drums his fingers on the top of his desk, looking at me with those perceptive eyes of his. If I ever needed a reminder that my life is perilous, those eyes are a perfect one. “Shane, Marco tells me there was trouble last night. Explain.”
It’s an order, and one I know to obey. I give Dominick the full-detailed version of last night’s incident, knowing withholding anything would be seen as a betrayal, finishing with Miles’s name and information being posted behind the bar for Marco and shared with the rest of the security team.
As I speak, Dominick spins the gold pinky ring he wears. It’s filigreed but has been passed down in his family for a long time, so the decorations are nearly worn as smooth as a new wedding ring. It should look stupid, my upbringing telling me that real men don’t wear rings, especially pinky rings. But Dominick pulls it off with style, the ring fitting in perfectly with his custom-made deep navy suit and silver tie.
He radiates wealth and power, and though he’s a few years older than me and about twenty pounds lighter, I’m pretty sure that if he and I ever threw down, it’d be one hell of a scrap. And that doesn’t count if Dom fought dirty, in which case all bets are off.
Dom knows my evaluation of him, and in some ways, that helps me. He knows that I view him not with fear but with the respect of one warrior to another, and because of that, he gives me respect back. He nods and folds his fingers together. “And after the incident?”
I nod, knowing what he’s talking about and that honesty is the best policy here. Marco would have told him that I left my truck here and drove Meghan home, and that I didn’t come back to pick up my truck at all.
Better he hears the story from me than find out later from someone else, and he will find out because he has an uncanny way of always knowing things.
“Meghan was in shock, asked me to drive her home, which I did. I offered to call a cab from the porch, but she asked me to come in for coffee. We talked, and she calmed down. At some point, we fell asleep on her couch. I left her apartment this morning and she seemed fine.”
Dominick’s fingers tighten a little before he unlaces them, setting them almost casually on the arms of his office chair. I’d be fooled too if it wasn’t that I know his right hand’s about six inches from that Desert Eagle of his. “You slept with her?”
I nod, speaking quickly but calmly. “I feel like that’s a trick question, asking one thing but meaning another. We slept on the couch, fully clothed. If you’re asking if I had sex with her, the answer is no.”
Dominick nods, his hands relaxing and going back to turning his ring. “Well answered. I do feel the need to remind you of our no-dating policy, both the dancers and waitresses being strictly off limits.”
“I’m aware.”
Dom nods, smiling tightly. “Beyond my policy and its enforcement, although I don’t know Meghan well, I sense that a man like you would break a girl like her. And then I would be called upon to break you for the misstep. Am I clear?”
Like that exact thought hasn’t been running through my head since I felt the flawless curve of her ass in my hand and the soft pressure of her thigh against my cock this morning. I tilt my chin in deference, blinking once. “Crystal clear,” I answer. “No worries.”
I pause, taking a moment to let Dom know that I’m not just spouting some fear-inspired bullshit, then continue. “Well, actually, I am concerned. But not about that. It’s Meghan.”
“What about Meghan?” Dom asks. “Do you feel she is under threat still?”
I shrug, tenting my fingers in my lap. “Not sure. When I left, she seemed fine, even said she’d see me tonight because she was scheduled to work dinner to close. But she got Sarah to cover her shift. I’m sure it’s nothing, but I wanted you to be aware.”
Dominick’s eyes flick to the black walls, seeing through them to the dance floor below where the familiar but faint bass beat is telling me Allie is on stage. “I’ll have Allie call Meghan,” Dom finally says. “They’re close, so she can see what’s up and why she ditched her shift. Tell Allie to come up after her performance, please.”
Hearing the dismissal, I rise and walk out of Dominick’s office, feeling like I just received a pardon from the firing squad. Even knowing I’d done nothing wrong, Dominick is one of the few men I legitimately fear. Even now, leaving his office, there’s one percent of my brain that expects to hear the snick of him drawing the hammer back on his pistol.
The fact is, Dominick is ice-cold and all business, willing to do whatever is necessary, regardless of where the law or public opinion lies on his actions. This time, though, I’m safe, and I get downstairs to wait behind the curtain backstage for Allie to finish her set.
As she comes though, her costume is wadded up in her hands, and she jumps slightly, not expecting me to be standing there, and she squeaks a little. “Jesus fuck, Shane! You scared the hell out of me!”