Chapter Nine
Pushing morbid thoughts aside, and with a fresh coat of warpaint covering the previous night’s atrocities, Verity straightened her shoulders and headed for the exclusive upper lounge. He was right, this wasn’t anything she hadn’t done before, albeit usually on her own terms and not at the whim of some megalomaniacal control freak. And this casual group of sharp suited individuals looked considerably less threatening than some of the clientele she’d seen exiting the upper floors. Indeed, the giggles coming from one of the other girls, sounded almost genuine as she tumbled into a waiting lap. Maybe this wouldn’t be too bad? Pinning a bright smile in place she sashayed over to the waiting group.
An hour later and the effort of maintaining that smile was starting to make her face ache.
Far from the enthusiastic groping she’d been expecting, Verity had found herself entirely unmolested. No, it was more than that, she wasn’t simply unmauled, she was being completely ignored! Despite the other hostesses being literally rushed off their feet trying to entertain the boisterous mob of well dressed guests - French, judging by their accents - no one had laid so much as a finger on her.
And dammit, she was trying! She’d pulled out some of her best moves: passing a little bit closer to one man than was strictly necessary, given the ample space around them, so as to ensure her arse brushed against the front of his flys. He’d merely stepped around her with a murmur of apology.
Next she tried pressing her breasts against another man’s shoulder as she leaned forward and ran her hand down his arm to get his attention. No response. If anything he moved away from her touch. Opting for an even less subtle approach, she reached across him to collect an empty glass. Her boobs were now right in face, if he’d just turned his head a fraction he’d be staring straight down her cleavage. But he didn’t turn, in fact, he gave little indication of being aware of her at all, merely handing her the glass and continuing his conversation, oblivious to her presence. The only time they appeared to notice her, was when their drinks needed refreshing.
Letting her smile drop she stalked towards the bar, muttering obscenities under her breath. At least there would be one friendly face up here. Though she doubted he’d be any happier to see her. She winced. She really should have warned him.
Fortunately Chris was too much of a pro to betray any surprise, scanning her order with a practised eye. But his hushed words left her in no doubt as to his feelings on the matter.
“Jesus, Verity. You nearly gave me a coronary! What are you doing up here?”
“Working,” she snapped, drumming her fingers on the bar.
He flipped the cloth in his hand over his shoulder, surreptitiously checking for watching eyes as he did so. “I’m supposed to be the one working the top table, not you. It's safer, remember,” he said in a low tone as he assembled the bottles required for the cocktails.
“Believe me, this was not my idea.”
Not making eye contact he rattled some ice cubes into the shaker. “This is stupid, Verity. You should get out while you still can.”
Hiding her reply behind a quick rub to her nose Verity pretended a sudden interest in the spirit rail. “A little late for that and, who knows, maybe this could be an opportunity?”
Adding a long pour of premium vodka to the mix he shook his head. “Don’t push your luck. It’s not worth the risk, with him breathing down your neck.”
She stiffened. “Is he watching us?”
Chris grinned as he carefully poured the cocktails into frosted glasses and garnished them with a flourish. “Nah, you’re good, he’s oblivious.”
Keeping her face dipped towards the tray as she arranged napkins and a bowl of cheese and olives she replied, “Yeah, I seem to be having that effect on people tonight.”
“Just be careful.”
She gave him a bright smile of thanks as she lifted the tray of glasses. “Always.”
The round of drinks were accepted with an almost gracious murmur of thanks, but not so much as a playful slap on the arse as she deliberately bent over the table, taking her time to set each glass in front of the correct person.
She straightened and felt her mood deteriorate further as she saw Cross beckoning her over with one imperious finger.
Fuck.
“What are you doing?” he snapped.
“Trying to keep your guests happy.” She shifted her weight and muttered, “or at least fully supplied with booze.”
“I’m not paying you eight hundred pounds a week to take drinks orders.”
“I’m trying!” She was furious to hear the whine in her tone.
“Then I suggest you try harder.”
Suppressing the urge to smack him over the head with the tray she was carrying, Verity spun on her heel and stalked back to the increasingly rowdy party.
Any attempt at subtlety abandoned, she discarded her tray and wriggled her way firmly into a vacant lap. Winding her arms around her chosen victim’s neck she gave him a lazy smile and was about to whisper something utterly filthy in his ear when he gently lifted her away and placed her with care on an empty chair.
What the ever-loving fuck was happening?
From the other side of the room she heard the unmistakable sound of mocking laughter and her hands balled into fists. She was not going to give up. Dammit, someone was was going to feel her up, even if it was just one of the other girls, or she’d garotte them all with this stupid, fucking bra!
An hour later she was almost gibbering with frustration. She wasn’t sure which was worse, the blank looks from the men, as their gaze slid away from her like rain off a newly polished car, or the piteous glances from the younger girls as she was yet again relegated to the side lines. Then she heard Cross clear his throat behind her and she let out a sigh.
That was worse.
Out of excuses she followed him back to his table with a dejected look on her face.
“I’m sorry,” she muttered, “I don’t think this is going to work out. I-I’ll find another way to get the money.”
He smirked and hooked one finger under her necklace, pulling her face closer to his. “Did it not occur to you to wonder why your necklace was different from the others?”
Verity frowned, dropping her gaze to the pendant. “I assumed it was a new girl thing.”
Cross gave a soft chuckle of mirth. “This means you’re my property. And no one touches what is mine without permission.” He abruptly released his hold on and Verity staggered back a pace. “And tonight, permission was not granted.”
She stared at him in fury feeling the blood rush to her cheeks. “This was what? A set up? Some kind of test?”
“A test, yes. Though, not specifically for you. Or not entirely for you, at least.” He glanced to his left and gestured to an unfamiliar figure ascending the stairs and pausing to pass his gloves and coat to one of the simpering girls who greeted him. The man’s face broke into a smile and Verity understood the girl’s reaction. He was another very impressive example of the gender. Tall and lean, his dark hair just starting to silver at his temples and exuding the same quiet confidence as her boss. Getting to his feet Cross embraced the man warmly. “Verity, please allow me to introduce Mathieu. It’s his men you’ve been attempting to entertain this evening.”
The elegant gentleman turned that devastating smile on her. “Enchantée,” he said, brushing a kiss to the back of her hand. “Thomas, you excel yourself. I had not anticipated this level of provocation. I almost feel sorry for my men, no?”
Verity could feel the puzzled frown creasing her brow. What was going on?
Cross gave a chuckle of amusement. “Mathieu has some new employees and was interested to see how well they would continue to follow orders in his absence - in a more social setting when the alcohol was flowing and they were subject to, shall we say, enthusiastic distraction.”
The Frenchman's gaze swung back in her direction, and Verity was suddenly aware of the lethal intensity. He might look urban and civilised but he was every bit as ruthless as the man standing next to him. Not someone to be underestimated.
He tilted his head, his eyes locked onto hers. “So tell me, mademoiselle, how did my men behave?”
She resisted the urge to look to Cross for guidance and forced a smile. “They behaved impeccably, monsieur. Perfect gentlemen. You should have no concerns.”
The charming demeanour returned and the man embraced Cross once again. “Magnifique! We should celebrate. Champagne!”
Cross handed Verity her tray. “You heard the man, Champagne. Now run along.”
And just like that, she was back to being bar staff.