Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
Rayna
I’m so out of my comfort zone, my skin is crawling. Why did I think this was a good idea?
The loud bass thumps and pounds, vibrating through the floor and transferring through my feet. It radiates through my body in an overstimulating pulse that makes me shiver and my heart stammer.
Less than an hour ago I was at the apartment, enjoying a quiet night with my brother.
We ate pizza for dinner, watched a movie, and talked quietly about our days.
I put away all of my new shopping, and did the dishes.
It was utterly normal and perfectly domestic.
But after Yordan went to bed, the atmosphere shifted.
I was about to sneak out to go get a job I wanted him to know nothing about, and I was changing into clothes I never wanted him to see me in.
I crept out of the apartment wearing the highest heels, and the tightest short dress in my closet.
Both pink, both more suited for a club than a job interview.
But a club is exactly where my potential job was, traditional interview or no.
Club Calda was located only fifteen minutes from my place, and according to their website, looking for late-night waitresses. Applicants need not apply, just to come in and ask for the manager. It was nerve-racking to say the least, but bottle service girls made loads of money.
And if I was going to escape my reliance on Apollo, I needed to make a lot and fast. I needed to be able to provide for myself or be subject to the whims of a man I refused to fully trust. Trusting men has never worked out for me in the past and I have no reason to believe this new situation I’ve found myself in will end up any differently.
“You looking for a dance, sweetheart?” a sultry voice asks. My eyes widen at the woman before me wearing nothing more than a sheer bra and tiny blue thong.
“Um, no thank you,” I tell her quickly. I’ve never been approached by a stripper before, and I’m not sure where to put my eyes. Is it insulting to not look? “I’m looking for the manager?”
She tilts her head, assessing me with a surprised look. “Are you trying to work here? You don’t look like a stripper.”
“I can’t tell whether you think that’s an insult or a compliment,” I reply awkwardly.
She grins, eyes lifting up with mischief. “I like you, new girl. I’m Kat. I’ll bring you to Adrian’s office. Can’t guarantee you’ll get the job though, you look like a fish out of water in this place. Can you dance? Have you ever taken your top off for money before?”
Why does the name Adrian sound familiar?
“I’m just looking to be a waitress.”
“Bummer,” Kat huffs. “Means I’ll never get to see what you got under that hot little dress of yours. Unless you want to show me?”
“I…Are you hitting on me? Does this normally work for you?”
“Have you seen me?” She chuckles, offering a sassy eye roll. “Not into women are you? Or not into femme women?”
“Oh, uh, no. Just men for me, I guess.”
“A travesty,” she huffs. “No man deserves all this.” Waving up and down my frame to demonstrate what she means, Kat shakes her head.
Grabbing my hand, she spins around and starts to slowly pull me through the crowd.
“Come on, I’ll take you to the boss-man.
You’re lucky he’s in tonight and the lower manager is off.
Adrian’s the nice one, doesn’t even check us out.
He’s too into his wife, and I can’t blame him. She’s a dime.”
Seriously, why is this man’s name giving me a sense of déjà vu?
It doesn’t take long to navigate the busy club with Kat as my guide. The seas of people seem to part at her mere proximity, making it easy to glide through the masses. Within a minute, she’s tugging me up a small set of stairs and toward a large wooden door.
She knocks twice before yelling, “I’m coming in!” and swinging open the door like she owns the place.
Kat pulls me over the entryway before I can protest about whether or not we should wait for permission to come in.
The small but comfortable-looking office is immediately more quiet than the surrounding club.
Seated behind a solid, sleek desk is a man with a deep tan and dark features eyes the both of us.
There’s no disdain in his gaze, but there isn’t a welcoming sort of shine either.
“Got a live one for you, boss,” Kat chirps. “This is…shit, I didn’t even ask your name.”
“Rayna.”
“Pretty,” she comments. “Anyway, Rayna here wants to waitress. Waste of a banging body to keep it wrapped up all the time. But I respect it.”
“Do you plan to hold her hand through her interview or get back to making money for yourself?” Adrian arches a brow. “I’m told Mr. Black just arrived.”
“Oh fuck,” Kat sputters. “I have to go snatch him up before one of these other bitches does. That man pays my rent with one dance. Good luck, Rayna!” She’s out the door before I can say goodbye.
An awkward beat passes before I muster up my courage and take a step closer to the desk. “You’re looking for waitresses?”
“You’re looking to be one?” he returns.
“I am,” I reply, swallowing thickly.
“Why?”
“Why…Why do I want to work here?”
He nods, barely. It’s short and clipped, like he can’t be bothered to spare a word in confirmation instead, or fully dip his head.
“Honestly, I’d just like a job. It doesn’t have to be here specifically, but this was my first choice. This place has a good reputation and from what I can tell, your bottle girls make a fair bit of money.”
“And you need money?”
I hesitate, feeling overwhelmed with the speed in which he throws questions at me. It feels more like an interrogation than an interview, and I’m not even sure that I’m technically being interviewed. “I need my own money, yes. I take care of my younger brother.”
“How noble.”
I can’t tell if he’s trying to be condescending or if his personality is just cut and dry. Kat called him the nice manager, so I don’t think he’s intentionally being a bit of a prick. But perhaps the other manager is just so bad that Adrian looks good by comparison.
“Why should I hire you?”
“I’m a good worker—”
“So you have job experience?”
My face goes hot. “Well, not technically, but—”
He interrupts again. “Have you ever worked at a club before? Served before? It’s not something you can pick up on a whim. Customers are a nuisance and you can’t kill them for being rude and pushy. No matter how much you may want to.”
“Kill them?”
He nods, musing, “Unless of course they assault you in some way, then they’d be taken care of.”
“I—” I don’t even know what to say to that.
“Mr. Russo, your guest has just arrived,” a deep voice reports through the door behind us, startling me enough that I flinch.
“Send him up,” Adrian replies in a clipped command.
Realization dawns on me in an instant, and I want to kick myself for not putting it together sooner.
“Adrian Russo,” I say, swallowing hard. “You’re Natalie’s husband.”
Goddamnit. I’ve been talking to one of Apollo’s good friends this whole fucking time. I’m so screwed.
“I am,” he replies, a small smile playing on his lips. “My wife enjoyed your short conversation. She was thrilled to hear you’d be marrying Apollo. She’s already planning to have you over for brunch.”
“I’m not marrying Apollo.” My shoulders snap straight. “He just said that on a whim. We’re not even friends.”
“Is that why he’s on his way up here to collect you?” He chuckles. “Because you aren’t even friends?”
“He’s here?” I squeak.
“He was notified as soon as you stepped in the front door, Rayna. The Moretti family owns Club Calda.”
Of fucking course they do.
“He said you weren’t nice like your wife is,” I grumble, turning to leave before Apollo can come “collect” me like I’m a fucking child.
“How sweet,” Adrian coos. “He knows me so well.”
Swinging the door open, I run straight into a wall of muscle and grimace. Looking up, I find Apollo’s stormy blue eyes.
“Move,” I demand, stepping back so that his chest is no longer pressed against mine. “I’m already leaving so you can fuck off.”
A sharp whistle sounds, and a dark chuckle follows. “You always let your fiancée speak to you with such a venomous tongue, Apollo?”
“I enjoy her tongue as it is,” he tells Adrian over my shoulder. He ignores my command to step aside, and reaches for my wrist. “Let’s go.”
“I’m not going anywhere with you. You’re a fucking stalker.”
“Ahh, young love,” Adrian teases.
Apollo is tired of my defiance and his friend’s comments, enough so that he isn’t waiting for my cooperation any longer. He lunges forward, bending down to lift me up. Throwing me over his shoulder like I weigh nothing, he wraps an arm around the back of my legs and begins to storm out of the club.
“You motherfucker,” I hiss, slapping him on the back. “Put me down, you smug, controlling, asshole! This is all because I wanted to serve drinks? You are the most dramatic overbearing piece of—”
A swift smack to my backside steals the words from my lips.
“Did you just fucking spank me?” I screech. “You’re dead, you brute!”
He isn’t fazed, continuing to walk us out of the building until we’re in the parking lot. “If literally anyone else spoke to me the way you did, micina, I’d have their tongue removed.” He sets me down, eyes hard.
“The fuck did you just call me? Don’t give me a nickname, we’re not friends and we’re sure as fuck not engaged! He better have been messing with you and not actually convinced that we’re somehow an item.”
“I’ll call you whatever I want when you’re acting like a little brat, Rayna. You call me every name under the sun when you’re angry. Don’t like it when I return the favor, do you?”
God, he’s probably calling me a bitch or a cunt in Italian.
I’m going to lose it.
“You had no right to do that,” I exclaim, my voice cracking. “You are not my keeper, goddamnit. I came here for a job.”
“You’re not getting one here, so don’t waste your time.”
“I can work wherever the hell I want to work!”