A Rough Start and A Rude Russian
6
B rynne lay in bed and replayed the interview in her head. Against all odds, she got the job. Aunt Josie taught her to never give up when pursuing her dreams. She cleared one major hurdle, but many more would follow! Mr. Big Dick Energy, was one of them. Too much testosterone and arrogance in one hell of a hot package. One minute Gage was cold and suspicious, and the next she swore there was something else radiating from his eyes.
From the top of his wavy dark hair to the soles of his handmade Italian shoes, he was sinfully delicious. Too bad, when he opened his mouth, he ruined her fantasy. His don’t-fuck-with-me attitude should not appeal. Except it did. Is this what a dog feels like in heat? At the mercy of nature? According to Darwin’s theory of natural selection, her body had just chosen her alpha.
She punched her pillow. “Sorry Mr. Darwin, I’m not falling for a man who wants to control my every move. It doesn’t matter because he is a million miles out of my league. Even if he is the man to deliver on my wicked fantasies, it’s best to forget him.”
The next day, Nigel gave her two more stories to edit on a tight deadline. She was glad of the diversion. She and Jared got takeout for lunch and found a patio table that gave them some measure of privacy. He pried all the juicy details out of her about the interview.
“I survived my meeting with his royal highness, Lord and Master of Club D.” She rolled her eyes and bowed her head mockingly. “So what if he is the hottest thing on two legs? Guys like that are usually selfish in bed. Women fall all over themselves for the looks or the money. I learned a long time ago to avoid hunks because they don’t have to work at relationships, and more often than not, they are self-absorbed.”
Jared spoke in a low voice. “A security monitor told me he was engaged until a few months ago. He found out his fiancée was lying to him, so he broke it off. He hasn’t been seen with anyone since.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “I bet it was that Sierra chick who I saw after my interview with Garrick. Are you telling me this so I feel sorry for him?”
“No babe, but sometimes good-looking men can be misunderstood. Women are calculating in their pursuit of looks and money without a thought to the guy’s feelings.”
Brynne saw Jared looking pensive as he chewed the last bite of his cheeseburger. “I know that’s happened to you, J.” She grinned, trying to lighten his mood. “It must be hard when boys come after you because of your tight butt and muscly biceps, and they never bother to ask you about your hopes and dreams.”
“It’s a cross I have to bear.” He smiled, but it did not reach his pale blue eyes.
Jared was model handsome. His dark blond hair was long on top, and he kept his undercut fade perfect by going to his stylist every four weeks. The man always dressed impeccably, no matter the occasion. A scout discovered him at seventeen, and he modeled for three years. She remembered some of his stories. It was soul-crushing work, and he got hooked on amphetamines to keep his energy up and his weight down. The pressure to look perfect took its toll.
It must be hard to be treated like a sex object. Not that I would know how that feels.
“Listen, I intend to keep out of his way. Which means I do my job; I watch and learn.” She leaned in and lowered her voice. “I think he’s just waiting for me to fuck up, so I get my ass whooped.”
Jared laughed so loudly that a couple walking by turned and stared at them. He gave them a withering look, and they quickly turned away. “Hon, you better be ready. There is a very good chance you’ll get your you-know-what whooped .” He laughed again, this time putting his hand over his mouth.
“Stop! I’m trying not to think about that. But really, it felt like he grudgingly gave me the job and doesn’t trust me at all. He was so surprised by the letter from Patricia, I swear he thought I’d forged it.”
“That is Master Gage. He’s suspicious as fuck. He has to be, to keep the club and its members secure. They pay him a ton of money to have a safe place to play.”
“That’s another thing.” Brynne wrinkled her nose. “Do I have to call him that?”
“I sure would. All the staff who do scenes show him that respect. Didn’t he tell you how to address him?”
“Nope. He never properly introduced himself and I avoided it by calling him ‘sir.’” Brynne filled him in on the klutzy fall she took in his office. Jared laughed and asked if she saw the kinky magazines in the waiting room.
“Yes! How did you know? Did you see them when you interviewed?”
“Yup. The room has a two-way mirror, and they video all the candidates while they wait.”
“What?! You’re joking?” Her mind played back that day and her hand went to her mouth.
“Bill, the head bartender, told me. He saw it on the computer screen in Garrick’s office.” He stared at her ashen face. “What did you do in there, Bree?”
“Oh, nothing really,” she said, dropping her head in her hands. “Just talked smack about the boss while trying to calm my nerves. Then I power posed in front of the mirror. Christ, I may get fired before I even start!”
He patted her hand. “Don’t worry. If he wasn’t watching it live, it’s not likely he will go back to find it.”
That information did not quell her nerves.
“Shit, I have to get back, and we don’t want you to be late either. Mustn’t give Margaret a reason to spank your bum!”
“You’re hilarious,” she said, rolling her eyes. “She would probably jump at the chance.”
On the walk back, Brynne asked if he would come to the seamstress with her after work, but he had a date, so she went on her own.
Sonya was very pleasant, and she put Brynne at ease. After measuring the usual body parts, she took down the circumference of her neck, wrists, thighs, and ankles.
“What do they need those for?”
“We take those to make you a set of cuffs and a collar, dear. We have many different outfits depending on the type of party Master Gage is hosting.”
“Of course, how silly of me.” She gritted her teeth at the thought of calling him that. It was bad enough she was on videotape calling him a mean motherfucker. It would not be good to tell Sonya what she thought of the king of douche-dom.
“I will have your weeknight uniforms ready by Thursday. That’s your first shift, right?”
Brynne chewed her bottom lip. “Yes. I don’t know how I’ll make it on time if I have to stop here first.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll have them delivered to the club.”
Sonya handed her a list of instructions about the outfits, which were never to be worn outside the club. They would be dry cleaned and replaced in her locker for the next shift. From what she could see, the French maid’s outfit seemed reasonable. What worried her were the special outfits they created for the fetish parties. She thanked Sonya and cursed Gage as she made her way to the train.
Thursday sucked. Margaret gave her an article to fact-check at four thirty p.m. so she was late leaving the paper. She claimed Nigel asked for her specifically, but Brynne wondered. She got it done and delivered the thumb drive back to the dragon lady’s empty desk. It took ten minutes to get a taxi because it was pouring, and her umbrella was lying on the floor under her desk.
At 5:55 p.m., she rang the buzzer. The imperious voice of her favorite butler came through the intercom. “Staff must use the rear entrance.”
“Miles, I will be late because I don’t know where that is. Please, can you let me in? I won’t use this door ever again.”
“Not possible, miss. Walk to the corner, two buildings west, make a right at Bedford, and follow the lane to the black awning. Take the steps down to the employee entrance and ring the bell.”
She swore and stomped down the steps. Rain pelted her as she jogged two city blocks, found the lane, and ran some more, cursing the old fart the whole way. In the time it took, she could have been inside getting changed. Fucking hell.
By the time she reached the entrance and rang the bell, she was out of breath and in a rage. The clock was ticking in her head like a time bomb. She punched the bell twice more just as the door opened. She looked up to see a pair of cold green eyes and shook her head in despair. Brynne rarely cried, but the censure in his face was almost her undoing. She looked at him, her voice barely audible. “No one told me about the staff entrance. I’m sorry, I went to the front door. I didn’t know.” She took a breath and added, “It, it won’t happen again.”
While she was suffering from verbal diarrhea, he stepped forward and pulled her into the small vestibule by the lapels of her soaked trench coat.
Gage’s eyes looked her up and down. “No, I’m sure it won’t. Garrick will give you an access badge for this door next week. If you make it through the weekend.”
Brynne felt her temper rising. Her chin lifted in challenge. “I’m no quitter. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to get ready.”
She ducked out of the enclosed space and hurried to the locker room, mumbling under her breath. That bastard tweaked her temper again. If she was going to survive, she’d better work on her poker face. He enjoyed twisting her in knots and was betting on her to give up. Well, she had no intention of letting him win. She never backed down, sometimes to her utter detriment.
Thank god there was a hairdryer and various other toiletries and hair products in the ladies’ changing room. She quickly repaired her hair and reapplied her makeup. The uniform was hanging in her locker. When she got it on and looked in the full-length mirror, she bit her lip and shook her head. “You’ve got to be kidding.”
The frilly white blouse with cap sleeves covered the essentials, but the black corset-style dress cinched her waist and undercut her breasts, blatantly pushing them up. The black skirt only reached mid-thigh, and it too had ruffles around the bottom. A white lace apron completed the ridiculous French maid ensemble. It was over the top, and Brynne guessed that was the point. She carefully put on her seamed stockings and black high heels and touched up her lipstick. Facing her reflection, she took a deep breath and said, “Don’t let these bastards get to you!”
She went up to the main floor in search of Garrick. As she entered the lounge, all eyes turned to look at her and conversations stalled. Brynne concentrated on ignoring them and walked toward the man behind the bar. She reached for the polished brass rail and held on to it for support. The gray-haired barkeep had a kind smile and a bushy mustache. “You must be the new girl. I’m Bill, head bartender.”
Relieved, she said, “Hi Bill, I’m Br—”
He stopped her with a hand on her wrist and a shake of his head. “Tinkerbell is the name you’ll go by, missy. I’ve got your name tag right here.” He winked and whispered, “No one needs to know your real name.”
“Got it. Thanks, Bill.” She took the tag from him and attached it to her blouse.
“Go into the back and ask for Melinda—you’ll train with her tonight.” He gestured to the two doors between the bar and a glass-enclosed wine room. “She’s the tall platinum blonde. You can’t miss her.”
In the back of the house, she saw Garrick first. He was speaking to a busser, reprimanding him for something, so she hung back and looked for Melinda. Bill was right. She was about five feet ten in her heels and very slim—everywhere, except for her boobs! Brynne wondered how she kept from toppling over. Melinda hurried over and surprised Brynne by hugging her. “You must be Tinkerbell! I’m Melinda the Good Witch. I’m so happy to meet you!” Her voice was sweet, like a Southern belle.
“Nice to meet you too, Melinda. Can I ask, do you think I can get my name changed? I would rather not have Tinkerbell. It’s ridiculous.”
Melinda giggled but didn’t reply. Garrick’s deep baritone behind her made her jump. “I choose the names, Tink. So, I’m afraid you are stuck with it.”
“Um, right.” She flushed. “Sorry, Garrick. Understood.”
“You will shadow Mel tonight and help her with the drinks and food service. We serve light fare in the lounge until ten o’clock.” He handed her a leather-bound book. “Familiarize yourself with the menu. If people want a broader menu, they can go to the dining room—but that kitchen closes at nine thirty.”
Brynne nodded and took the menu. Melinda grabbed her arm and linked it with her own. “Come on, the natives must be restless. I ducked out to the powder room. And Bettie went home early, so they’re running me off my feet.”
The night passed quickly. She received a few leering looks, one stray hand on her bottom, and two proposals of marriage. It was easy to smile and divert their attentions and she giggled at the outrageous request for a kiss. By nine, her feet were killing her. She would have to get a pair of shoes with a lower heel. Melinda was sweet and kept a running commentary on how everything needed to be done, so one doesn’t get into hot water , as she called it. With the members, she had perfected a flirtatious yet chaste demeanor. She blushed easily and deflected any would-be suitors by pretending to be offended. Brynne watched and learned.
It was near closing time, and there was one table left with two burly dudes who could be mafia enforcers or bouncers for an exclusive nightclub. They’d ordered a full bottle of Stolichnaya Elit and had finished three quarters of it. Brynne thought she heard them speaking Russian, but they always stopped when she came near. She was putting away mixes behind the bar when a third man joined them. His aura was a disturbing combination of power and menace. He was easily six feet tall, dressed in a dark-blue bespoke suit that accentuated his massive shoulders. From her vantage point, she watched the other two men stand and show deference to him. They offered him the vodka, but he waved them off and turned to look toward the bar.
His eyes met hers, and her first instinct was to flee. Her stomach dropped with a feeling of inevitability—this predator had just spotted prey. Melinda was not back, so she couldn’t ignore the demand in his gaze. She smoothed down her skirt and hurried over. “Yes sir, may I get you something to drink?”
Hazel eyes raked her over from head to toe. Then he smiled. His perfect white teeth had her thinking of Little Red Riding Hood and the Big Bad Wolf. He shifted closer and looked down at the name tag on her chest. “Tinkerbell?”
She dug her fingernails into her palm and looked at his bristly jaw to avoid his eyes. “Yes.”
He tilted her chin up, forcing her to meet his gaze. “Such fire in those dark eyes, devushka.” His voice was deep and raspy, like he’d just smoked a pack of unfiltered cigarettes. It made the hair rise on the back of her neck. He let go of her chin, but his eyes never left hers. “Fizzy Aqua Panna with a lime.”
She nodded. “Rocks?”
“Da,” he said. She froze as he tucked a stay hair behind her ear, then spun away and went to the bar. She was shaking and fumbling with the bottle when Melinda came back.
“Where did we put the limes?”
Mel retrieved them from the fridge and dressed the glass. “You look spooked, doll. I can take his drink over.”
Brynne nodded, relief relaxing her shoulders. “That guy unnerved me a bit.”
“He does that to everyone. That’s Dimitri Ivanov. He’s the biggest manufacturer of steel in Russia. Scary mother.” She took the glass and a cocktail napkin. “I’ve got this. Take a breather in the back.”
She felt like a chickenshit, but Brynne was glad to escape.
From the kitchen, she heard raised voices and panicked. Somebody wasn’t happy. Brynne made a snap decision to duck down the back stairs.
She could hear Melinda’s raised voice. She didn’t want to leave her alone any longer and walked back up to see her standing there in the doorway, telling the giant man he wasn’t allowed in the back. When he saw Brynne, he stalked toward her. “Why didn’t you bring my drink, Kiska?”
Brynne stammered out, “I had to use the ladies’ room.”
He nodded, appeased for the moment. “I want you to serve me when I am here. Only you. Understand?”
“Yes, sure.”
“Horosho. Spasibo.” He cleared his throat, but it still sounded raspy. “I mean, good, thank you.”
They both sighed when he went back to his table.
“My goodness, Tink,” Melinda said. “He’s got a thing for you.”
“Where the hell is Bill? I felt very vulnerable out there.”
“Good question.” Melinda looked at her watch. “Will you be okay? I’ll pop downstairs and see if I can find him. The security monitor is back.”
“Sure. I’ll be fine,” she said, concealing her agitation.
Brynne kept herself busy tidying the area behind the bar, turning all the bottles so the labels were facing front. When she turned back, Dimitri was leaning over the counter, watching her. She squealed in shock and jumped back, dropping a plastic jug of orange juice. How did he move within a few feet without her noticing? He toyed with an ornate gold ring on his baby finger, drawing her eyes to the tattoos on his enormous hands. This close, she could see more ink on the thick cords of his neck beneath his collar. Finally, she met his eyes; they made her feel like she was an item on the menu. She broke out of her daze to retrieve the bottle of juice and said, “Thank god that wasn’t a priceless bottle of scotch.”
He shrugged. “Da. I would pay for any bottle you dropped because of me.”
She focused on putting the mixes in the fridge and feigned a casual tone. “That wouldn’t be necessary, but thank you.”
He took advantage of her proximity and clasped her forearm. She pulled away, but his grip lessened enough to slide to her wrist. He looked at his large hand, dwarfing her wrist. “So delicate, my little Kiska.”
She tried to tug free, but he held fast. “What does that mean?”
His mouth curved in a smile. “ Pure is the literal translation. Where I come from, it means kitten .” He turned her clenched fist over and pried her fingers open. “You are a little cat, prepared to fight. I like that in my women.”
“Let me go, please.” She hated how weak her voice sounded.
His thick, calloused fingers held fast. “Do I frighten you?” he said with a gleam in his eye.
Brynne’s mouth dried, and she couldn’t push any words out. Don’t let him see how he unnerves you. She watched as he entwined his fingers in hers and spread her hand open, then with his forefinger he lightly traced the lines on her palm, one by one. His touch was so at odds with his size, it left a trail of sensation in its wake. She tugged again, and he let her hand go. She realized why when Garrick came up and greeted him.
“Mr. Ivanov, it’s good to see you. It’s been a while. Can we get you anything for last call? We are closing shortly.” His tone was friendly, with an undertone of steel.
Dimitri looked at him, and his lips curled in an insincere smile. “I will have a blueberry tea served by Miss Tinkerbell.”
“Certainly. She’ll bring it over as soon as it’s ready.”
The expectation was clear. Ivanov nodded and strode back to the table.
Garrick looked at her, his eyes narrowed. “What are you waiting for? Go brew some orange pekoe, and I’ll prep the liqueurs.”
Brynne hurried to the back. She prepped the teapot and made a tray with a couple of shortbread biscuits and a cloth napkin to wrap the snifter.
Garrick gave her the Grand Marnier and amaretto mixture. She walked carefully over to the table, concentrating on each step. Dimitri had removed his jacket and was sitting back, his crisp white shirt revealing a hard, muscular chest and flat stomach. His legs were blatantly spread, as if waiting for someone to kneel between them. The silky material of his pants clung to his massive thighs. Brynne refused to meet his eyes and laid the tray carefully on the table in front of him. She was turning away when he grabbed her wrist.
“Kiska, pour the tea for me? Pozhaluysta. Please .”
Her feet were aching, and she was tired. She wanted to jam her heel into his shiny brown shoes and tell him to fuck off. Instead, she looked at him with a phony smile and said, “Of course, your excellency .”
She was pouring the tea when he burst out laughing. If she didn’t have a good grip on the pot, it might have landed on his legs. Brynne couldn’t help noticing his friends were scowling at her.
Dimitri patted the shoulder of the man closest to him. “Ya lyublyu zhenshchin s ogon’kom—I like a little fire in my women.” One smirked, and the other forced a laugh. She guessed women didn’t speak to him like that very often.
She made her escape straight into the back and found Garrick there. “That guy is one scary bastard!” Her voice was high pitched, giving away her anxiety. “Security wasn’t here when he came in. I was on my own.”
Garrick took her gently by the shoulders. “Hey Tink, take a deep breath. Nothing happened. You are safe. I will investigate, as that should not have happened.”
She hugged herself. Her eyes were bright with unshed tears.
His voice lowered. “If you can’t handle a guy like him, maybe you should reconsider this job.”
Brynne shook her head. That was all she needed to hear. “I’m no quitter.” She stated it for the second time tonight. But did she believe it?
He pulled a paper out of his jacket. “Here, it’s a taxi chit. Cars are on standby at the back entrance for you when it gets late. You can get going now. I’ll close up.”
She nodded and started for the stairs.
“And Tink, you best get another pair of shoes. I’m all for high heels, but you’ll be crippled unless you get something with a lower heel. Find something sexy but functional.”
She stared at him and nodded her head absently.
Brynne quickly changed and hung her uniform on the rack under her name tag. She was glad that her sneakers had dried over the course of the evening. When she exited out the back, a black cab flashed his headlights and pulled up.
The trip home was fast, the rain having let up hours ago. She entered her apartment and leaned up against her front door and sighed. What a night! But she survived it.
Brynne dropped her stuff and kicked off her shoes, making a beeline for the fridge. She uncorked the open bottle of chianti and poured it into the only clean mug in her entire apartment. She made a plate of cheddar cheese and crackers to fill the void in her stomach. In the future, she would have to scarf down some food before her shift. All she’d managed was to nibble on some nuts during her trips to the kitchen. At least she would lose weight with all the running back and forth.
She sank into her old couch and took a swig of the chilled wine, unable to stop thinking about the big Russian and the unnerving way he looked at her, like he wanted to own her. He was polite and surprisingly gentle when he took her hand, but she sensed a barely contained aggression emanating from his linebacker-size frame.
When she crawled into bed a short time later, it was another tall, overbearing bastard that she cursed. Why didn’t Gage come up to the lounge during her shift? After their run-in at the back door, he didn’t appear again. She should have been glad, but in truth, she was disappointed.