23 RHEA
I stumble out of Corey's office, my fingers touching my lips where his kiss still burns. The hallway spins a little, and I lean against the wall to steady myself. My heart pounds against my ribs like it's trying to escape.
"Holy fuck," I mutter to myself, smoothing down my shirt. The fabric feels too tight, too warm. Everything feels too warm.
The bass from the main room pulses through the walls, matching my racing pulse. I close my eyes, trying to collect my scattered thoughts. The memory of his hands on my waist, the way he backed me against his desk...
"Shit." I push off the wall, running my fingers through my hair.
"Shit, shit, shit."
My boots click against the floor as I make my way back to the bar.
Each step puts more distance between me and that office, but does nothing to calm the electricity running through my veins.
"You okay?" Haven asks as I slip behind the bar. "You look a little… flushed."
"Fine." My voice comes out higher than intended. I grab a glass, nearly dropping it. "Just... fine."
I busy myself making drinks, but my mind keeps drifting. He's my boss. My incredibly hot, completely off-limits boss who runs an illegal fighting ring. Because that's not complicated enough.
"Two whiskeys," a customer calls out.
Thank god for distractions. I pour the drinks, but the amber liquid reminds me of Corey's eyes right before he...
"Focus," I whisper to myself. "You're a professional. Sort of. A professional bartender at an underground fight club, but still."
My skin still tingles where he touched me. The memory of his cologne lingers in my nose, woodsy and masculine and... No. No, no, no. This is exactly the kind of thing he warned me about. Don't mix business with pleasure.
But pleasure...
I slam a bottle down harder than necessary, making Julian jump.
"Sure you're okay?" she asks.
"Never better." I flash him a smile that probably looks more like a grimace. "Just... processing some stuff."
Haven grabs my wrist as I reach for another bottle. "Oh no you don't. Spill."
"There's nothing to?—"
"Your lipstick is smudged, your cheeks are flushed, and you just tried to pour vodka into a wine glass." She points to the mess I'm making. "Something happened in that office."
I wipe at my mouth with the back of my hand. "Keep your voice down."
"So something did happen!" Haven's eyes light up as she leans in closer. "Was it what I think it was?"
"He kissed me." The words tumble out before I can stop them.
My stomach does a little flip just saying it out loud.
"Holy shit." Haven bounces on her toes. "Details. Now."
"We were arguing about him being overprotective, and then..." I bite my lip, remembering. "He just... grabbed me and..."
"And?"
"And it was..." I search for the right word. Amazing? Earth- shattering? Career-ending? "Complicated."
"Complicated like good complicated or complicated like I-need- a-new-job complicated?"
"Both? Maybe… I don't know." I groan, dropping my head into my hands. "God, what am I doing? He's my boss. And I'm living in his house because someone's trying to kill me or whatever."
Haven's eyes go wide. "Whoa, whoa, wait. Living in his house?"
"That's what you picked up on?" I grab a rag and wipe down the sticky bar top. "Not the whole someone-trying-to-kill-me part?"
"I'm horny, sue me." Haven shrugs, restocking glasses. "But seriously, explain the living situation. How did that happen?"
"Someone trashed my apartment after leaving threatening notes on my car and running me off the road." I lower my voice, glancing around. "They insisted I stay with them until they figure out who's behind it."
"Them?" Haven's perfectly shaped eyebrows shoot up. "What do you mean them?"
"Corey, Tobias, and Julian." I stack clean glasses, trying to act casual. "They live together. Well, Julian's got the apartment above the garage, but still."
Haven drops the bottle she's holding. It clatters but doesn't break.
"Holy fuck. This is like... this is literally a wet romance novel dream."
She fans herself dramatically. "Three hot guys, one house, protecting you from danger?"
"It's not like that." My cheeks flush again. "It's... complicated."
"Complicated like making out with your boss in his office complicated?" Haven wiggles her eyebrows.
"Hush!" I hiss, throwing my rag at her. "And stop looking at me like that. This isn't some trashy romance novel."
"Honey, you're living in a house with three gorgeous men who run an underground fight club." Haven picks up the rag and tosses it back. "That's literally the plot of every book in my Kindle right now."
She leans across the bar, lowering her voice. "Look, I get it. It’s risky. But honey, sometimes pleasure is worth the risk."
"You sound like a fortune cookie." I grab another glass, focusing on the simple task of drying it. "A horny fortune cookie."
"I'm serious." She touches my arm, stopping my mindless wiping. "When was the last time you felt this way about someone?
And don't lie – I see how you look at him."
The glass nearly slips from my fingers. "I don't look at him any particular way."
"Please. Your eyes practically undress him every time he walks by." Haven smirks. "Not that I blame you. Those pants he wears..."
"Haven!" Heat creeps up my neck.
"All I'm saying is, maybe this happened for a reason."
She shrugs, arranging bottles with practiced ease.
"But whatever you decide, be careful. Not just because of the whole boss thing, but..."
She glances around before continuing, "This world he's in? It's dangerous. And I don't just mean the fighting."
My stomach tightens. "What do you mean?"
"The kind of people who bet on these fights? They're not exactly upstanding citizens." Haven's usual playful expression turns serious.
"Just... watch yourself. And maybe keep some pepper spray handy."
"That's reassuring." I lean against the counter, suddenly exhausted. "So your advice is basically 'go for it, but don't die'?"
"Pretty much." Haven grins, her usual cheerfulness returning.
"Also, maybe invest in some sexy lingerie. Just in case."
I throw another rag at her head. "You're terrible."
"I prefer 'helpful'." She dodges the rag with practiced ease. "Now stop avoiding the bar and get back to work. Those drinks won't pour themselves."