But as it served Nick’s purpose, the staff of the club now knew he was their boss.
Therefore, unimpeded, he pulled his employee into the back room and through it to the door at the rear.
“Nick, you’re holding me too tight,” she whined, twisting her arm against his hold.
He wasn’t. His hold was not tender but it wasn’t causing pain.
He knew how to cause pain in a variety of ways.
Deacon Gates had taught him.
He also knew how to contain someone and not to cause pain.
Hettie and Turner had taught him that.
Her fear at his actions and the fact she’d fucked up and was freaked was causing her pain.
He yanked her to his side as he hit the code into the keypad. He heard the latch unlock and pushed the door open.
He looked to the man inside watching a bank of twelve monitors with visuals that shifted every five seconds. Visuals that fed from the thirty cameras throughout the club.
The man took one look at Nick’s face and immediately lifted his hands, not at all happy he’d watched his boss fucking a woman considering that boss was right there, clearly about to get in his shit about it.
“She said—” he began.
“Delete it,” Nick ordered.
The man instantly turned to the monitors. One cleared then showed the now empty social chamber.
Within five seconds, it blanked.
Without another word, Nick dragged the girl out of the monitoring room and closed the door.
“You’re done,” he told her. “Pack your shit. Out.”
Her eyes got big.
“You’re firing me?” she asked.
Fuck, he hated stupid bitches.
He’d smelled that on her the minute he met her. It concerned him, not only for the purpose he bought the place—to get access to Olivia Shade—but because he owned the fucking place and no employer wanted a stupid bitch for an employee.
But she was liked by the old owners.
What she pulled, that no longer factored.
“Yes,” he answered, letting her go. “Get your shit and out.”
“But we—” she began.
“There is no we,” he told her.
Her head twitched in shock.
Yeah. He hated stupid bitches.
“But you took me to dinner,” she whispered. “And then we—”
“Fucked. You weren’t very good so I didn’t come back for more. Lesson. Usually, a man takes a woman out, fucks her, wants more, he does something about that and doesn’t let three weeks elapse between the first fuck and the next.”
“But, you’ve been flirting with me for—”
He knew what he’d been doing.
He’d needed something from her.
He got it.
He knew she felt his change when she snapped her mouth shut.
“Out,” he whispered.
She swallowed visibly but that was the extent of her further wasting his time. She hustled her admittedly sweet ass to get her shit and then she got out.
He pulled out his phone, started a string to the managers of the club and tapped in the text.
Find a new Ross.
He hit send and went home.
*
An hour later, Nick sat on his sofa, foot up, sole of his shoe pressed to the edge of the coffee table, the fingers of one hand wrapped around a glass of Dewar’s and ice, his other hand lifted, his eyes to Olivia Shade’s phone number written on his palm.
Christ, she was a cool customer.
After walking to him in that fucking skirt with that fucking look on her face that made him absolutely sure he could fucking smell the wet drenching her *…
Then taking his cock like she did, her eyes locked to his, her hips working his dick…
And finally coming with the demure noises a princess would make while her * told a different story and milked him hard.
After all that, walking like she was drifting through her living room in order to grab her panties, put them on, nab her purse and do nothing but nod before she was going to walk away from him.
He had not expected first contact to go that spectacularly well.
He expected eye contact. Maybe a few words exchanged. Enough she’d get he was into her kink so he could lay the groundwork when he ran into her elsewhere.
He didn’t expect to fuck her against the wall.
And certainly he didn’t expect that fuck to be that outstanding.
He also didn’t expect to feel whatever the fuck it was he felt coming off her after her orgasm milked his right out of him.
He had no idea what it was but whatever it was, he stayed buried inside her a lot longer than he’d intended.
And it made him uneasy.
She’d given nothing away after that and it was almost like he’d imagined it.
He stopped looking at her number, leaned forward, tagged his phone off the coffee table and sat back. He used his thumb to program her in.
And there she was. A bold Olivia Shade at the top of her contact.
Her there with him everywhere he went.
A Shade in his life.
He looked across the room to the chest against the wall where the framed picture of Hettie was. A picture that hadn’t moved for four years, except for when he moved house and when his cleaning service dusted it.
Fuck.
He put that thought aside, tossed the phone back to the table, nabbed his drink, threw it back, heaved himself out of the couch and went to bed.
*