Series: Penny Dee
Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 97669 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97669 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
Nessa turns to look at me, and as soon as I am close enough, she reaches for my hand and pulls me in, so I am by her side.
“Soph was wondering if we were a thing,” Nessa laughs as she tells me, and Soph’s eyes go wide. Clearly, she is not used to Nessa and how she loves to blurt things out. Even things she should not. She is the outspoken one. I have always been the more reserved one. I guess our jobs reflect that as well.
“I wasn’t…” Soph shakes her head, and her cheeks go pink.
“It’s fine; no, practically sisters,” I tell her, to which she picks up a cloth and starts wiping down the counter, avoiding eye contact with us.
“Nessa, a group of wealthy men walked in. I need you to be your best for them,” someone says from behind me. Nessa immediately straightens her spine and pulls her robe down her shoulders as I pull out the stool and take a seat.
“You fine waiting for me, possibly only an hour, then we can go and eat?”
“Yes, I’ll just play on my phone.” I wave her off. She leans in and kisses my cheek before walking off.
“Just a water again?” Soph says, avoiding eye contact with me.
“That would be great.” She gets me a bottle of water, and I put a fifty on the counter.
“You tip awfully well. I didn’t want to ask Nessa, but what is it you do for work?” Now she is looking at me.
“I’m a doctor.” And leave it at that.
“Nessa said you work mostly at night, which is why you visit here when she’s finishing.”
“I do. I work best at night and choose those hours mostly for myself,” I inform her.
“You must be good to choose your own hours. You look so young.”
“Thank you.” She nods and takes the money from the counter and walks off as a few men walk over for her to serve them.
Soph is dressed in her usual outfit of little booty shorts with no top, her hair down, and glitter all over her chest. I don’t pay attention to the men she is serving. Really, there is no reason for it. I couldn’t care less about a man coming into a strip club to get his rocks off. That is, until they start talking to me. For example, I know the chair next to me is pulled out, and in it sits a man. But I choose not to look his way or give him a lick of attention. That is until Soph is back and leans over the counter so her cleavage is on full display as she smiles at the man next to me.
“What can I get you, handsome?” she purrs. I silently smirk at her words, how different she speaks to them than when she talks to me.
“We will both have whiskey on the rocks.”
That voice.
My body locks tight as I realize exactly who sits next to me.
Him.
Silas Vescari.
Think of the devil, and he shall appear.
I look up at Soph, whose eyebrows are raised, silently questioning me, but before I say anything, she says, “Just you; she is happy with her water,” and I still don’t look at him, impressed by Soph having a backbone on my behalf.
“You know what she likes?” Silas asks Soph, and I have to give it to her—she doesn’t falter at his dark, commanding voice. He owns whatever room he walks into; I know that without a doubt. The energy shifts whenever he speaks. And ordinarily, his presence is as cool as my morgue. That’s the kind of power he has. Except this time, I didn’t even notice. Have I become too used to his commanding presence?
“I do, so just one, or would you prefer a double?”
“Get me two, like I said,” he says, and she looks at me. I don’t know if she knows who he is, so I just nod, and she walks off to pour our drinks. When she brings them back, she places them on the counter, and he slides her two one-hundred-dollar bills. She doesn’t offer to give him the change. She takes them and walks off to serve the next.
I still haven’t made eye contact with him. I know that’s what he wants. My attention.
Looking down at my phone, I mindlessly start scrolling as I feel his eyes on me. Neither of us make the first move to speak until I see him move forward, his elbows sliding along the counter. Now he’s closer than ever, instead of leaning back on his stool. He’s closing in on my space, and I can’t help but feel like I’ve been marked, just like I do every time I’m in his presence. Which naturally irritates me.
“Drink?” he asks, sliding the one Soph made for me closer.
“I didn’t want one. I have a water,” I finally speak back to him. “It was rude for you to assume what you think I like as well.”