25. Dana
dana
. . .
Though Vi’s idea to increase our offerings had done quite a bit of legwork when it came to making up the sudden deficit in usable income for the club, the overall revenue still didn’t come close to the kind of windfall we’d need in order to comfortably comply with Garrett’s insane demand for twenty-five percent of our profits.
Never mind that inflation was at an all-time high before our illegal landlord decided to tax us for the incredibly ineffective crime of missing a single stupidly valuable piece of paper.
Fuck. What I wouldn’t do to tell that guy to suck it and screw off.
I clicked through the tabs in the spreadsheet that detailed club attendance and average ticket earnings for the millionth time, rubbing my tired eyes with my free hand. It was… better .
But it still wasn’t enough.
I sighed, frustration beginning to contribute to a headache at the base of my skull.
I needed to feed, and maybe a drink to take the edge off.
But it was Friday, so I needed to bring my A game. The busiest night of the week, and at the end of the month? It needed to go off without a hitch and with the exchange of a lot of dollars.
No room for failure. No second chances.
I’d resigned myself to a long evening of crunching numbers with a ghost in the room—like Cherie was standing over my shoulder shaking her head and sighing at how much we’d spent on champagne and out-of-season strawberries.
A knock along the frame of my open office door drew my attention to Vi, standing with her head poking just inside the room. She was dressed casually, in a black top and fitted jeans paired with her cropped yellow jacket.
“Surprised to find you up here for a change,” she said cheerfully, stepping the rest of the way into the room with a little skip to come and steal a kiss that was over too soon.
I shrugged, catching her wrist to pull her in for another, longer kiss. Her soft lips moved against mine eagerly. “Figured I’m owner-operator, so I probably should use the office?—”
“You aren’t the owner,” Garrett sneered from the hall, coming to lean in my doorway to leer at Vi.
She wrinkled her nose. “We aren’t open yet. You shouldn’t be in here.”
I bit back a laugh at the nasty expression that crossed Garrett’s wide face. One of the things I loved most about Vi? She was fucking fearless. Didn’t matter if Garrett was a vampire or that he outweighed her by damn near a hundred pounds, if not two; he was just another annoying, entitled man to her.
Outstanding.
“I can come and go in my club ,” he strained the words, lips twitching with his annoyed grimace. “Whenever I so please, like tonight. Dana, we’re having a private party. Better put up a notice telling the plebs they can’t come in tonight.”
“What?” I gasped, blinking several times in shock. “It’s the biggest night of the week, Garrett. If we don’t open to the public, we don’t make any money. And if we don’t make any money?—”
“Save it, D.” He rolled his eyes. “If you don’t make any money, I sell the club and make a killing anyway, duh. No back talk; we are having a birthday party.”
“For whom?” Vi snapped, her free hand finding mine wrapped around her wrist for a squeeze.
“Me, juice box.” He said it like it was obvious, chest puffing with his own self-importance.
“Your birthday isn’t until June, you annoying loser,” Ren replied in a clipped voice from behind Garrett’s massive, meaty shoulder. “Vi, we’re going to be late for the bank. Are you ready?”
She nodded, casting a sidelong look at me that told me she wanted to stay.
“Run along, darling. I don’t need a bodyguard to tell Garrett he’s out of his fucking mind and to get the hell out of my club.”
Vi hesitated a moment longer until Garrett stepped the rest of the way into the room, Ren coming into view just outside of the door. She bent for another quick kiss, whispering, “Tell him to suck your dick,” against my lips before going to join Ren.
“See you back here for my party later,” Garrett said cheerfully, looking at Vi’s clothes with obvious distaste. “Maybe try putting on a little makeup. The natural look isn’t for you.”
“Garrett—” I started.
“Watch it, Gary ,” Ren warned, taking an aggressive step toward Garrett, until Vi placed her hand on her chest.
“Going to be late,” Vi whispered, and my covenmate instantly relaxed, taking her hand from where it rested above her heart and tugging her out of sight. Vi twisted to wave at me with a smile. “See you later!”
“We’re going to need food for the party. Last-minute catering will be a bitch, but at the bare minimum pizza. If you’re going to subject us to that, we are going to need plates?—”
“This isn’t a fucking frat house, Garrett; we can’t host a private party on six hours' notice because you need an ego stroke. We actually have paying clients to serve.”
“Yes, mine.” He shrugged, opening the candy jar on my desk to sift through the Sour Patch Kids until he found a green one and popped it into his mouth. “Better order in some extra champagne and girls too; my friends are a thirsty crowd. You don’t mind covering the food and drink, do you?”
Anger burned in my veins hotter than blood ever had. I balled my hands into fists at my sides to stop myself from making him regret his every word. It wouldn’t do me any good to assault the guy blackmailing me. It would just give him more goddamned ammunition.
“Yes,” I hissed through my fangs. “I do. Garrett, we can’t afford this. If you want your money?—”
“Dana, babe, I’ll get my money,” he said forcefully, picking up the candy jar and taking it with him as he made his way to the door. “And you’ll host my party too. Figure it out. It's not my problem.”
“Listen to me?—”
“No, you listen to me, D. Make it happen, or I make the sale. Capisce ?”
The stony silence that followed should’ve told any man or vampire with the faintest bit of sense what they needed to know, but not Garrett.He didn’t have any.
“ Capisce ?” he repeated.
“ Capisce ,” I hissed.
He grinned, offering me a cheeky wink that did nothing but make my blood boil.
“Alright, see you tonight!” he said cheerfully as he popped another candy into his mouth and disappeared through the door, his footsteps echoing down the metal stairs.
I took a deep breath and then another. A third for good measure as I tried to calm down. No use.
Before conscious thought could stop me, I’d shoved everything off my desk. Upending my monitor, the cup that held my pens. My keyboard and mouse went too, the desk mat and stacks of paperwork next, the latter spilling over the floor alongside something else. Something that fluttered toward the carpet as if in slow motion.
“What the fuck ?”