Chapter 40
Damien
It doesn’t look good, showing up at a gentlemen’s club, my gentlemen’s club, alone. But that is what I want right now. It is what I fucking need right now. To be alone.
I am a mess. Shirt unbuttoned halfway, untucked from my slacks. Hair mussed. Two empty glasses on the table and another one almost finished off. Why the fuck are there empty glasses on the table? Oh that’s right. Another waitress quit today. Because someone convinced them to go work for Decker.
“Hey!” I snap over at the bartender, who drops what she’s doing and rushes over. “Clean this up.”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Graves. We’re short staffed.”
“I’m aware,” I grit out, polishing off the glass and ringing it like a bell so she gets the hint.
“I have a friend,” she says as she wipes the table, “looking for a job. She used to work at the Bordeaux. She’s a good–”
“I’m not supposed to be on the receiving end of other people’s charity. Of second choices. I am Damien Graves. I should not have to beg people to work for me!”
My words are harsh. Slurred. Enough to make her blink. She is one of my best bartenders, and I shouldn’t be taking my anger out on her. If I were anyone else, she would have cut me off by now. But I am her boss, and she can’t. So, she goes to the bar and makes me another drink.
I wipe my hand down my face. I run a tight ship, but not usually with an iron fist. There is usually no need. Yet right now, it would be perceivable that I am a monster. Maybe I am…
“Rough night?” Jocelyn pulls up a chair next to me before I can tell her to get lost.
“I am really not in the mood, Jocelyn,” I say. The bartender sets down another drink, and I get after it.
“Clearly,” Jocelyn snorts. “What happened? You look like hell.”
My eyes rake over her. She’s all dolled up tonight. Blonde hair curled in a sorry excuse to look like Marilyn Monroe. Sparkly black dress that cuts low in the front and barely covers her ass. Sky high stilettos…wait.
“Where’d you get that dress?” I nod over at her.
Jocelyn looks down with a pout. “It was left behind in Ellie’s office. I just assumed after your little blowout today that–”
“You assumed wrong,” I cut her off. “That’s not your dress.”
But Jocelyn just bats her fake eyelashes and takes a sip of her martini. “It doesn’t look good,” she whispers. “Your being here alone.”
She’s not wrong. Everyone is trying not to stare at me.
They’re afraid to. But I’m not stupid. I know they’re all talking about me.
And that talk will spread to the hotels.
First to mine, then to the neighbors, stretching all the way down the strip until Decker himself hears about my demise with his morning coffee.
“I trusted her,” I say.
“That’s unfortunate.”
“I was…she seemed…different.”
Jocelyn blinks. “Different than who?”
“Everyone,” I admit.
“I suppose we are all capable of being blinded when we have sequins in our eyes,” she says, and I swing my attention over to her. She’s drinking a pink cocktail. With a pear.
I snag it off the rim and pop it in my mouth, instantly regretting it. I’ll never get her taste off my lips now.
“What is that supposed to mean?” I ask.
“You know I didn’t want to be right? But I am, aren’t I? Right about Ellie, I mean.”
I open my mouth and hold my breath a moment before responding. I’m not usually this open. But I’m also not usually this drunk. “I trusted her,” I finally let out.
Jocelyn reaches across the table and clasps my hand in hers. “I’m sorry, Damien. She doesn’t deserve you. It’s better this way. With her gone, so much will be better. So much will be the way it’s supposed to be…”
Unease crawls up my spine, and I narrow my eyes at her hand as her finger caresses mine. Suddenly, a girl rushes over to our table.
“Jocelyn! I was hoping I’d find you here!”
“Kristi…it’s not a good time,” Jocelyn says, but the girl, a redhead with overdone eyeshadow, fake tits and way too much blush, doesn’t know when to take a hint.
“I filled out an application, you know, for the Opal Room. But then I took your advice! That new place has a sign on bonus! And…” she leans in. “No physical. Not for drugs, not for STDs, nothing. It’s pretty great considering, well, you know.”
“What the fuck…” I say, sitting up straight. Two seconds ago I was three sheets to the wind. But now, as I piece together what is really going on here, I am suddenly stone ass sober.
And Jocelyn is panicking. She mumbles something to this Kristi girl, who finally gets a clue after being visually assaulted and hurries off. Meanwhile, Jocelyn is attempting to do the same.
“Wait,” I snap, and she freezes, slowly turning back to me.
“It was you,” I accuse as I stand up. “I should have seen it. It’s so obvious.
The way you slink around behind everyone’s back, pretending to be doing something important all the time when really, you are just meddling. Stealing. Betraying. Lying…”
“You don’t understand,” she starts in, but I don’t want to hear it.
“There is nothing you can say,” I cut her off. “Nothing you can do. You’ve done enough, and I have no need for you. Come to think of it, Jocelyn, I never have. I was a fool to keep you around this long.”
She smiles, looking around, then back at me. “You…you’re not…are you firing me? Damien…”
“Yes. I am firing you. You are no longer employed by me, Miss Taylore. You are also no longer welcome within five hundred feet of any of my establishments.”
Jocelyn stares at me, but I just stare back. Eventually, she walks out, and I am left alone with my thoughts. And of course, a room of people pretending not to stare. The bartender returns with another drink.
“I’m good,” I say without looking at her.
“Yes, sir,” she nods. “Would you like me to call your driver?” she asks.
“Yes,” I answer. Then, I shoot Diego a text. Three words that he loves to hear. Three words that will both satisfy and surprise him.
Damien- I was wrong.