Chapter 7
“I’ll have another, darlin’!”
Ann gritted her teeth and suppressed her disgust at the patronizing endearment. It was still early in the evening and all she wanted to do was to go home and crawl into bed.
“Of course, Mr. Sillars,” she said instead and walked over to pick up the now-empty glass with a bright, professional smile.“Anything else for you gentlemen?” she asked, letting her eyes move over the other club members. She was working in the card room tonight. It was the room that earned the highest tips, so she didn’t mind the patronizing endearments. Usually. Once these guys started drinking, she could earn about a thousand dollars in tips on a good night. The scotch was expensive and a twenty percent tip on top of a fifty or one hundred dollar glass of scotch added up quickly!
Alas, tonight was not going to be one of those nights. She might clear five hundred bucks tonight. But it was only a Tuesday and only a few of the tables were filled with club members and their guests. Thursday through Saturday nights were the really big tip nights.
Still, most of her income and financial stability didn’t come from tips. She earned more from the information these arrogant, loose-lipped men imparted.
Emily, the club manager, stepped into the room and looked around. She glanced over at Ann, asking her a silent question.
Ann nodded and lifted her hand, running a finger over her left ear. That was the signal that everything was calm at the moment.
Having received the message, Emily nodded again, then drifted towards the billiards room while Ann went to the bar, putting in the orders for refills.
When she brought the drinks back to the table, Ann heard the words, “Going up?”
Intrigued, Ann moved over to the wall, pretending to survey the other guests, but in reality, she was listening to the men’s conversation while they played poker. Ron Silter was the CEO of Magni Oil. To Ron’s right was Phil Tyler who was in charge of Tavia Oil and Gas. And to Phil’s right was Tom Barton, the CEO of Wallis Oil. These three controlled over eighty percent of the oil and gas consumed in the country. And then there was Mark Minsel, the CEO of a pharmaceutical company and Terry Harper, the owner of Harper Airlines.
“What’s going on with the price of gas, Ron?” Mark asked, tossing poker chips into the pile.
“The holidays, Mark! We always increase the price of a gallon of gas over the holidays!” Phil answered and added his own poker chips to the pile.
Terry grunted. “I never understood how you assholes get away with that crap,” he said, but his voice was colored with amusement. “I increase the price of every damn seat on my planes for the holidays, but that’s because every airline has a finite number of seats. Supply and demand,” he continued. “But you!” he said, tossing two cards to Tom, who was the dealer for this round, “You guys know that people are going to travel more during the holidays. So, you could stock up on supply! And yet, every damn one of you jack up the price for a gallon of gas.”
Mark chuckled, relieved not to be in the mix. As a pharmaceutical giant, consumers were always griping about his price increases. He was relieved to not be on the hot seat at the moment.
“The holiday price increases have nothing to do with supply and demand, Mark,” Phil explained and shuffled his cards. “It has everything to do with perception.”
Terry paused before adding his chips to the growing pile, completely unaware of Ann listening intently to the conversation.
“Explain it then,” Mark demanded. “Because last year, a barrel of oil cost one hundred dollars and the price of gas was just under three dollars for a gallon of gas. This year, the price for a barrel of oil is under ninety dollars, and yet, all the gas stations around town have jacked up the price for a gallon of gas to almost four dollars.”
Ron chuckled, oblivious to the club employee who was fuming over their price manipulations. “We raise the price during the holidays and during the big travel seasons, like August and Thanksgiving,” Ron continued. “We jack it up by ten or twenty cents. Everyone is too engrossed in living their life to complain. Then we lower the price by five or six cents after the holidays so we look like the good guys.”
Phil laughed and tossed his cards down on the table. “Meanwhile, we are able to reap record profits. And my bonus for the stock price is going to buy Delia a new house.”
Tom tossed down his cards, losing ten thousand dollars without blinking. “I thought your wife’s name is Elizabeth.”
Mark chuckled and started pulling the cards forward, preparing to deal another hand. “It is,” he confirmed.
Ann gritted her teeth as all five roared with laughter, ignoring the fact that they were price gouging and bragging about buying their latest mistress a new house from the profits of their manipulations.
Turning away from the group, she wondered if it was time for her break. But before she could act on that thought, a tall, dark presence paused in the doorway. Ann’s eyes clashed with the ominous, angry gaze of Tazim.
With her mouth falling open, she felt her heart pounding in her chest. Why was he here? Why couldn’t he just leave her alone? This was ridiculous. He’d caused her a sleepless night and now he was invading her work life? At the moment, she couldn’t stop her eyes from drifting down over his powerful body. The dichotomy of her mental and physical responses to this man confounded her! Her mind was angry that he’d once again invaded her world but her body…her body wanted him to invade so much more intimately.
Her spine straightened and she couldn’t stop her chin from pushing up slightly. Ann wanted to yell at him. No, she wanted to pound against his chest as anger and resentment hit her like a gut punch. How dare he come in here, looking all suave and sexy! He was a bastard! She hated him!
So, why couldn’t she look away? Why did her heart throb with his closeness?
Darn it, would she ever get over him? He wasn’t worth her time, he’d proved that!
“You look like you’re ready to attack him,” Emily whispered, coming to stand next to Ann. “What did that man do to you? Kill butterflies or something?”
Typically, Ann and Emily bantered jokingly about the club's members, laughing together about how truly awful and amoral these people were. However, on this particular night, Ann found it difficult to muster a lighthearted response.
“I’m sorry, Em,” she whispered back. “Would you mind if I took my break a little early?”
Emily eyed Ann’s face for a long moment, then nodded. “Absolutely! Go take a break. Check in with the kitchen and get some food. Looks like you could use some fuel.”
Ann grimaced, but nodded. “Yeah. I guess I’m a little hungry.”
Really, she just needed to get away from Tazim. Every time she looked at him, her brain told her one thing and her body registered the opposite reaction. It was confusing and making her light-headed.
Ann slipped through the door that led to the employee hallway. Immediately, she felt a sense of relief. Closing her eyes, she leaned her head back against the wall, trying to pull herself together enough to go back out there and…and be nice to that bastard!
She took ten minutes to hide in the employee break room to try and calm down. Five years ago, Ann had learned several breathing exercises that helped her control the hurt and anger that struck her every time she thought about Tazim. Thankfully, they worked this time as well. After only a few breaths, she felt calmer. Well, not calm, precisely, but she didn’t feel as if she wanted to pound her fists against Tazim’s hard, muscular chest.
After checking her appearance, she smoothed her hair down, adjusted the knot of her tie, then stepped into the kitchen. Immediately, she was hit by both heat and delicious, savory scents. “Oh my!” she gasped, walking over to see what Troy, the club’s head chef, was making. They were little brown balls of something that had cheese in them. “Those look amazing!” she whispered, awed at the man’s culinary talent.
He chuckled, allowing his eyes to move over her and grinned. “You look hungry,” he decreed, lifting the balls out of the deep fryer and dumping them out onto a rack that would allow them to drain and cool.
Ann was too hungry to wait and grabbed several decadent appetizers. She blew on one, then popped it into her mouth. Immediately, she felt the taste of garlic, cheese, peppers and other undefinable spices, all meshed into one yummy bite.
“These are delicious!” she gasped, then waved her hand over her mouth because they were so hot.
“Of course they are,” he chided, then put several more on a plate for her.
When Ann came back out onto the floor fifteen minutes later, she felt better. Seeing Tazim had been a surprise. That’s all. Her mind had reacted negatively, as it did every time she felt betrayed. Her reaction was natural, she told herself. And it was impossible to not remember all of the heated nights she’d spent in his arms. Archer, her adorable son, was the result of one of those passionate nights and Ann would never regret having her little boy in her life.
Still, she was calm and back in control. She paused before re-entering the game room and took another slow, calming breath. Now that she knew he was here, she could ignore him. She could smile and treat Tazim as she would treat any other club member.
Maybe, she thought as she walked over to another table to take their drink orders. She knew the other club members. They were all regulars. And the other club members didn’t make her body tingle with remembered passion.
“Get me a beer, darlin’,” one of the men called out, then winked at her as he deftly shuffled a deck of cards.
“I’ll have a whiskey,” another chimed in. This man also added a wink, as if she and the member had some sort of chummy friendship. The reality was that the man barely acknowledged her existence except when he was ordering alcohol. “You know what I like.”
She didn’t, Ann thought, but she and the other wait staff had created a cheat-sheet of the club members’ preferences that was posted behind the bar. It was a way of making them feel special, even when they weren’t.
“Of course, Mr. Bingly,” she said with a fake, professional smile.
Finally, she turned to Tazim, pasting a polite expression on her face even though she wanted to scratch his eyes out. “What can I get you, sir?” she asked, purposely using a too-casual greeting instead of his title or the correct use of “Your Highness” that she’d heard someone else call him. She didn’t give him a smile, but merely curled the corners of her lips up as she pretended to wait patiently for his order.
“Could you bring me a beer?” he asked.
Ann was stunned by the kindness in his voice as well as the question. “Of course.”
“Thank you.”
The appreciation at the end of his request was another surprise. These club members were required to treat the staff with at least a modicum of respect. No more groping or rude comments were allowed. There had been several club members that had been warned about their inappropriate behavior and some who’d had their membership revoked due to offensive behavior towards the staff. One man had even been literally carried out of the club after a particularly nasty scene.
But none of the members bothered to request anything, and they definitely weren’t overly polite. They called out their orders and expected her to be happy about bringing the drink to their table. Furthermore, it was extremely rare for someone to thank her. Oh, they all tipped her. It was sometimes a competition to show how wealthy they were by tipping outrageous amounts. That definitely wasn’t discouraged!
But a genuine “Thank you”? Nope, that was rare. Almost unheard of!
With a nod, she turned on her heel and walked towards the bar. She added each of their drinks to the computer system and the bartender hurriedly poured the drinks, setting them onto her tray.
“The tall guy is new,” Mark said, peering at the computer monitor displaying the drink orders. “I have a note that he’s some sort of royalty but I don’t have any other information on him.” Mark looked at Ann. “What kind of beer does he prefer?”
Ann thought back five years ago. She wished that she’d been able to delete those memories from her mind, but the truth was, she still dreamed about Tazim and those special moments they’d shared. With a sigh, she answered, “Heineken.” Because she remembered one night at a restaurant when he’d ordered a beer. Darn it! She didn’t want to remember anything about him or their time together!
Of course, that was impossible since Archer was a constant reminder of that night as well as the man. Her little boy was the spitting image of Tazim with his darker complexion, black hair, and dark eyes. Ann’s blue eyes and lighter brown hair weren’t apparent in her son’s features.
When the drinks were ready, she carried them over to the table, quietly setting the drinks down by the club members’ left elbow. They were concentrating on their poker game and Ann caught sight of their cards. She nearly spilled Tazim’s beer when he tilted his hand to show her his cards. He had three kings? Good grief!
Ann was determined not to look at him as she walked away. With every step, she mentally chanted, “Don’t look! Don’t look! Don’t look!” But she’d made it only three steps before she glanced back at him. The wink he sent her way nearly had her laughing out loud. Yeah, he’d won this hand. But did he have to be so damn charming about it?