8. Chapter Eight ~ Emma
Chapter Eight ~ Emma
As I slip into the front seat of my car I wonder just what I’ve gotten myself into.
Is this really what I want to do?
But those numbers flash in front of my face and I try to steel myself for what’s to come.
Those numbers are going to make a huge difference.
Chris thinks I’m going to buy myself fancy clothes and random junk, but that money … just a month will pay off the bills for Mom and Leann. And in nine months? By the time a baby could be here? They could have everything paid up. They could be finally doing more than just making ends meet.
And that’s why I’m doing this. To get them what they need.
Including the dialysis if Leann ends up needing it.
“You can do this, Emma,” I tell myself. “You have to. They’re counting on you. And what’s the big deal anyway? Okay, so you’re going to have a baby. You’re also going to live in a fancy house and have staff to take care of you and an allowance for anything you might need; it’s worth it.”
With that I put the car in reverse and head toward the club.
“And it doesn’t hurt that the sex is pretty good, too,” I add.
Of course, that thought makes me think about just that. The sex. And how much I really wish I hadn’t had to leave just now; or maybe I’m actually glad I had to leave because it means I got to leave him wanting more. And it put me in control … for once.
“Hey Emma!” I jump at the voice as I get out of the car but it’s just Maggie, another one of the waitresses. “You ready for the party?”
“What party?”
“The Mardi Gras party.”
“Why on earth would we have a Mardi Gras party here?” I ask, staring at her in confusion.
“No one told you about it?” She shakes her head. “Girl, you are in for a treat. This is the party of the year. Anyone who is anyone wants to be there and the drinks are definitely flowing.” She grins, “Which means the tips are definitely flowing.”
Now I’m starting to get more interested in the idea. A big party where everyone wants to be? And they’re generous? Sounds like my kind of event.
“What’s the catch?”
“No catch. They bring in the whole crew for the party. People are lined up hours in advance so you may want to get to work early. Oh, and there are special costumes to wear. Haven’t seen them yet, but they’re always super sexy.”
“As opposed to the nun’s habits we wear the rest of the year,” I retort, and she laughs.
“All right, they’re even more sexy than what we wear normally. Just wait and see.”
I’m not entirely sure how I feel about that, but from what I do know about Mardi Gras, it’s coming up quick. Which means I won’t have to worry about being pregnant when it comes around. And I’ll have at least the possibility of making some good tips.
“Who picks the costumes?”
“Chris, of course.” She has that look in her eyes like most of the girls get when they mention Chris, and I feel a surge of jealousy shoot through me.
He’s mine, after all.
But no, that’s not true. There was nothing in the contract about exclusivity. At least, not for him. Though I suppose I thought that was implied. He moved me into his house and I’m supposed to be having his baby; that means he should be exclusive to me, right?
My brow furrows as I try to figure out just what all of this means and, more importantly, what I want it to mean.
“Come on, let’s get going. Shift starts in 20 minutes.” I glance at my watch and practically bolt for the door. Twenty minutes is not a lot of time to get into our uniforms and make sure we’re ready. And once again I wonder if it would be better to take my outfit home and show up ready rather than leaving everything in the lockers they assign everyone in the break room.
By the time we’re both ready and heading out onto the floor it’s, exactly on time. I breathe a sigh of relief when I glance up at the glass windows above and can’t see any sign of Chris or Ethan. “Whew, so no one knows we barely made it,” I laugh and she joins in, grabbing a tray from the bartender.
“Guess again, Sweetheart.” I jump and spin quickly to find Chris sitting at the bar, a glass of something in his hand as he watches me.
“I’m not late.” My voice is defensive and he tips his head to the side, an appraising look in his eye as he sips his drink slowly. But that calculated look definitely makes it even harder for me to maintain my composure. Because my body just wants to melt before him.
“Perhaps you should think about leaving earlier to avoid such a last-minute rush. Or your boss may have to let you go,” he replies and I shake my head with a frown.
“You can’t fire me for almost being late.”
“I can fire you for any reason I want, Sweetheart,” he replies and my frown deepens. He’s right, of course, but I sincerely hope that he’s not going to be petty like that. “But you do look stunning in that costume,” he murmurs, leaning closer and my heart seems to skip a beat.
“Well then, I better go show it off to its full potential then, hmm?” I give him a flirty wink, grab my tray, and hit the floor.
So he’s not going to fire me. Even though I know that he would love for me to quit working, it’s good to know he’s not going to be petty about it though.
Of course, I’m not entirely sure how much a pregnant cocktail waitress will get in tips so it’s highly likely that he won’t need to fire me once I start showing.
I frown at that. The idea of getting an allowance and living in his house doesn’t bother me too much. But not having a job at all feels very … trophy wife. And that’s definitely not what I am; there’s been no offer of marriage or anything like it, after all. Just having his baby.
I shake my head. Now is not the time to be even thinking about all of that.
I have a job and I need to do it.
And so the evening passes relatively quickly. There are plenty of people in the club tonight. And they seem to be in a rather generous mood. Though maybe a little bit grabby at times.
As I pass one of my tables an older gentleman reaches out and pats my ass. I glance over my shoulder at him with a cheeky grin and a teasing line on my lips, but there’s no time for it. Because Chris is standing there almost immediately, directly at my shoulder, scowling at the man.
“My girls are not here for you to grope at.” My heart skitters again at his defense of me, even though I know that it’s not really good for business, his or mine.
“It’s not a big deal,” I reply, trying to ease the tension of the situation. “But if you’re going to get handsy with me you should at least be buying me a drink first,” I tease the customer.
It’s clear that he’s not thrilled at the treatment by Chris. And Chris is not pleased with my comment. But I know how to deal with this kind of thing.
“Sure thing, Honey, you go on up there and get yourself a drink and tell them to add it to my tab,” the customer grins at me and I shoot him a wink before heading off to the bar, Chris hot on my heels.
“You can’t do that. Yelling a customer?” I’m scolding him, and I know that’s inappropriate but he’s still seething. His brows knit together and his lips press into a thin line.
“It’s not appropriate for him to be grabbing at you.”
I snort at that and shake my head, gesturing around the club. “That kind of shit happens here all the time. We all know it when we sign on for the job. It’s not a big deal.”
His eyes flash with fire and he snatches the tray from my hand, setting it on the bar and dragging me toward the back hall to the break room. And then he pins me roughly against the wall, his hands on either side of me, his body inches from my own, his lips brushing lightly across mine.
“I don’t share, Baby Girl. I don’t like someone touching what’s mine.”
My breath already rushed out of me when my back hit the wall, but at his words, and the growling way he says them, my body heats even more and I can feel myself getting wet for him again. Wanting him …
“Well, it’s something that’s going to happen with me working here,” I manage to get out and he leans forward, letting his lips brush over mine again.
“Another reason that I don’t want you working here.”
“You’re the boss.”
“I won’t fire you, Emma. I won’t have you resenting me for taking away your job. But I can assure you, I will be doing everything in my power to convince you that being home with me where I can fuck you anytime we desire it is the best place for you.”
I’m wet and needy and I can’t even remember why I was upset with him in the first place. All I can think about is ripping off his clothes and feeling that hard cock pounding into my body. But this is definitely not the time or the place.
“I need to get back to work then,” I manage to get out and he leans down, this time pressing his mouth to mine in a hot and passionate kiss that leaves me even more breathless and gasping.
“You are mine, Emma. Only mine. And I can assure you that if I see someone else touching what’s mine, I won’t be pleased.”
With that he stalks off in the direction of the stairs and I’m left to try and gather my thoughts and enough willpower to venture back onto the floor. Because I’m feeling more than a little weak in the knees.