Chapter 5
CASSIDY
Oh, jeez. I’m late. Really late. Which is ridiculous, because I have nowhere else to be and no one waiting on me.
My pulse still spikes as I jog down the hall in leggings and a loose sweater.
My ankle boots clack against the hard wood floor, mocking me like a ticking clock. Glancing down at my attire, I wince.
What does one wear to an exclusive gentleman’s club staff meeting? What if Gianni is there? This thought alone makes me tug at the hem of my sweater, suddenly hyper-aware that I look more like I’m headed to a college study group than a business-related assembly of private club employees.
By the time I reach the lounge doors, I can already see them through the glass.
Lala stands near the counter, tablet in hand, looking effortlessly polished in a form-fitting black dress that probably cost more than everything I own.
It’s professional, sleek, and somehow still club-appropriate.
The kind of outfit that makes you wonder if she’s been working since sunrise, responding to any request Gianni has.
Does this girl ever sleep?
She always looks so rested. So composed. Like Gianni could ask her to run a Fortune 500 company or organize a hostage negotiation, and she’d just nod and make it happen.
Candice, on the other hand, is, well… Candice.
She’s trussed up in a lace-up bustier that leaves absolutely nothing to the imagination, paired with a tiny skirt and heels.
The girls are fully on display, and it’s barely even noon.
But honestly, it suits her personality perfectly.
If Candice ever showed up in business casual, I’d assume she’d been replaced by a body double.
I catch a reflection of myself in the glass, my pink hair taunting me. My eyes roll. Who am I to judge anyone else’s appearance?
My eyes land on Brier. She looks like she stepped out of a fashion editorial.
She’s wearing designer everything. Perfectly styled hair, stilettos sharp enough to double as weapons, and nails that are polished to the point of intimidation.
She’s sitting with one leg crossed over the other, scrolling on her phone like she’s killing time before a Vogue photoshoot.
Is this girl ever off?
And then there’s Fern, perched beside Candice.
She’s the epitome of Southern charm. Cute, blonde hair in soft curls, wearing a top that hugs her generous breasts but doesn’t look indecent as with Candice’s.
My gaze flicks back over to the man-eater as she adjusts her cleavage, a coy smile on her face that never quite seems to reach her eyes.
Candice is mid-monologue as I push through the doors. “I’m just saying, if a man orders a salad on a first date, that tells me everything I need to know. He’s either on a diet, is trying to insinuate I should be on a diet, or he’s mansexual. There is no fourth option.”
Fern snorts. “Can’t he just be health-conscious?”
“Health-conscious men are a myth,” Candice says solemnly. “Like Bigfoot. Or men who text back in under five minutes.”
Fern nods, hanging on her every word.
Candice continues as if she’s leading a girl power workshop. “My momma told me that some things in life can’t be forced. Like relationships, jobs, and jeans.”
“Sheesh. This girl has the IQ of a fence post,” Lala mutters so quietly I almost miss it.
“If brains were dynamite, she couldn’t blow her nose,” Brier adds.
I bite down on my lip to keep from laughing and instead focus on the room.
The staff lounge is basically a velvet couch, a gold coffee table, and a bowl of fruit.
The kind no one ever eats. Candice is draped across the couch as if she’s being interviewed for a reality show.
“I’m just saying,” she drawls, “if I’m gonna spend my nights serving billionaires, I should at least get a Cartier bracelet out of it. ”
Fern, perched beside her, giggles. “Or a condo. I’m flexible.”
Brier examines her nails as if the map to the Holy Grail is etched on them. “You both are amateurs.”
Fern gasps. “Excuse you, Miss Trust Fund.”
Brier looks up slowly. “I’m just being realistic. Most of these men already have wives. Or ex-wives. Or very aggressive attorneys.”
Candice blinks. “So what are you saying? Aim for the single ones?”
Brier’s lips purse as if she’s exhausted at having to share the same breath with these kindergarteners. “Unless you’re okay being the mistress. Not sure how that works out for you long term. Romantically or financially. Especially if you end up pregnant.”
Fern presses a hand to her chest. “Lord, don’t speak that into the universe.”
Lala stands near the counter with her tablet, already exasperated.
“Okay, you three, focus. This is exactly why we’re having this meeting.
” She looks at all of us, but her gaze lingers on Candice for a beat longer than necessary.
“Gianni had to let someone go last week,” she continues.
“One of the newer girls. She thought flirting meant sitting in a member’s lap. ”
Fern winces. “Bold.”
“Unemployed!” Lala corrects. “This place is fun, yes. But it’s still a job. No numbers, no dates, no accidental meet-ups on the upper levels.”
Candice tilts her head innocently. “What if a member insists?”
Lala’s voice remains steady. “Then you push back harder. Tell them that isn’t how things work here. Or you come get me. Or Anthony. You do not handle it yourself.”
Brier smirks. “No fairy tale happily ever afters, girls.”
“Not on company time,” Lala adds.
Fern sighs dramatically. “You’re killing my dreams here, Lala.”
Candice laughs softly, but something about it feels rehearsed. Like she’s already thought through every loophole. “Okay, so what if you’ve followed the rules, but over time, you’ve built a rapport with a member who asks you out? What do we do then?”
“Candice, you know exactly what you need to do. You come to me or Gianni.” Lala releases a heavy exhale, frustrated at repeating this for the hundredth time. “Just know it’s highly possible you may need to decide between your dating life and your job.”
Fern’s face falls.
“So keep that in mind. If you’re going to go all in for the chance to date a member, make your decision carefully.
” Lala stands to her full height, placing her tablet on the table.
With her hands on her hips, she resembles a private school headmistress.
“These men are successful, attractive, and have more money than they know what to do with. They could have any woman on the planet. Sure, I believe in fairy tales every bit as much as the next girl.” She gives Fern a lopsided frown.
“But to think you’re going to land a rich husband here is delusional.
From past experience, it’s more likely you’ll secure a pink slip and a baby daddy, who has enough money to ensure your life going forward is miserable. ”
Suddenly, you can hear a pin drop as the reality of the situation hits home. Not that any of this impacts me. Dating anyone is out of the question.
A man here, even less so.
“Okay, that’s enough of a lecture for one day. Try to enjoy the rest of your afternoon before your shifts start. And don’t forget we have the Spring Fling coming soon. I’ll make sure you have the itinerary sent to your emails.”
Brier examines those shiny red nails a little closer. “There’s no chance of interviewing to be in the Angels Among Sinners program?”
All heads turn toward Lala, who lets out a dramatic sigh.
She carefully lowers herself into a plush black velvet chair.
“As you are all aware… well, everyone but Cassidy perhaps, Gianni holds an over-the-top party whenever he introduces new women to the members of The Devil’s Playground.
Usually in the spring and winter months, he’ll recruit new girls interested in entertaining the members.
Occasionally, young women are promoted from within.
Ones who began within the organization as cocktail servers or personal assistants who have shown promise. ”
Brier adjusts herself in her chair, uncrossing her legs. “How exactly does one show promise? Is Gianni responsible for identifying these contenders?” Silence envelops the room until she says, “Or are you?”
A noticeable gasp escapes Candice’s lips at this realization.
Lala looks down toward the floor as if exasperated. “I work for Gianni. The only input I have is arranging her interview once Gianni expresses interest in them.”
Brier’s mouth opens in an effort to press for additional information, but her attempt is quickly thwarted as Lala holds her hands up to halt any further conversation.
“And please do not ask what he’s looking for.
I have absolutely no idea.” A slight appearance of dejection clouds Lala’s features.
It’s subtle, but it’s there. I probably only pick up on this due to my career training.
Does Lala want to advance her career here?
Or is her hurt related to something else?
From what I recall of my orientation, attractive ladies from all over the world apply to join Gianni’s Angels Among Sinners program.
Those chosen are instructed on everything necessary to provide a great experience for the members of DPG as well as how to politely decline anything they feel uneasy about.
This training, along with top-notch security, a salary most college graduates would beg for, and a mouth-dropping benefits package, makes the selection fiercely competitive.
Many girls come and go. Some are only here to fund their education or jumpstart a career.
Others simply decide they’d prefer a different lifestyle.
There’s no judgment when that day comes.
Instead, Gianni decides to make a grand statement when new women enter the fold.
Not only does it keep the club exciting, but it entices new members.
And as he puts it, there’s always room for more.
Lala’s voice softens a bit. “The best way to stand out is to do your job well, and don’t attract any negative attention to yourself. Or DPG.”
After the meeting breaks, Lala catches up to me near the lockers.
“Was I too harsh?” She grimaces.
“No, no. You were professional.”
“Whew. I hate having to be such a Debbie Downer. But I don’t want to see these girls get hurt. Hey, you want to grab a coffee? There’s a place down the block.”
My stomach tightens instantly. “Oh—I can’t,” I blurt a little too quickly.
“Coursework. I’m behind in… two classes.
” It’s a lie. But it feels safer than explaining that I don’t know how to be normal yet.
When I do venture out, I need to do it on my own or with Holt.
Because there will be no hiding the anxiety.
Lala studies me, then nods. “Okay. Maybe another time?”
“Yeah. Definitely.”
Later that night, when we step onto the floor, the VIP section is already occupied. Brier is serving the Billionaire Boys Club, smiling as if she’s posing for a magazine spread. It’s as if Lala’s words have turned up the dial on her efforts to impress both the members and the owner.
Lala mutters, “She acts like she’s above all of this, but clearly she’s got an agenda.”
I glance over.
And then I see him.
Lean, dark hair, a firm jaw covered in the perfect amount of stubble, and dark horn-rimmed glasses that somehow make him more attractive. God, why does he have to be so damn hot? How’s a girl supposed to work with all of that testosterone pulling at her?
He’s leaning back in his chair, legs spread in effortless confidence like he doesn’t need to impress a soul. And there’s Brier, bent forward with her ass practically in his face.
Yet he seems completely relaxed. Observant but not ogling. Totally unaffected by Brier’s presence. Hers or anyone’s at the club, for that matter. I’ve never caught him scanning the room like he’s shopping. His attention is only on his friends.
Well, except for that time I caught him staring at me.
I tried to stay occupied with my job and not let my gaze wander back over to him.
Ha. Impossible. The way his eyes remained fixed on mine as he took a drink, never breaking away once he knew I’d seen him.
His casual confidence was such an incredible turn on.
I’m sure he was trying to figure me out.
This colorful new girl in a sea of sleek, sophisticated women.
“Hot nerd alert.” Lala nudges me. “That’s Max.”
“Smart and sexy, you mean,” I correct. Because there is nothing nerdy about that delicious man.
She smirks. “Same thing.”
Then, as if he’s heard us, his eyes lift. They’re deep blue. They hold mine, the intensity causing me to shiver. My breath hitches before I can stop it. My heart begins to race.
“Uh oh,” Lala mutters.
I should be better about hiding my reaction to him. Especially in front of Lala. I mean, she only warned us about this very thing a hot second ago. But I am human. This man is gorgeous, smart, rich, and intriguing. Why wouldn’t I get swept up in his domineering gaze?
Uh oh is right.