Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 58840 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 294(@200wpm)___ 235(@250wpm)___ 196(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58840 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 294(@200wpm)___ 235(@250wpm)___ 196(@300wpm)
“Good,” Zane says, as he toys with my nipple. “That’s our goal.”
I pout, about to tease that it isn’t fair of them to ruin me, but before I can say anything, there’s a loud knock and the door of the dressing room is pushed open.
The club owner’s eyes go straight to me, and first I see his surprise, and then the doubling of that surprise when he recognizes me for who I am.
The tour manager. These men’s boss. The person who’s supposed to be making sure that Club Red maintains its good reputation while on tour.
I scramble out of their laps, but it’s too late. He frowns, mutters an apology, and turns to leave, pulling the door closed behind him with a heavy thud.
“Shit, shit, shit!” I tug my shirt down and pace away from them, only to pace right back. “You have ruined me. You have me acting like an idiot.” Even as I say the words, I recognize that I have no business blaming them. They’ve done nothing wrong — certainly nothing worse than I’ve done, and I’m the one who’s supposed to be upholding the rules.
Instead, I’m embarrassing myself in a spectacular fashion, and making the club look bad. Really bad.
I’ve been wanting a house of my own for years, but it’s looking like I can kiss that dream goodbye. If I lose my job, it’ll never happen. Is it really worth it, just for some great sex? And I’ve already had the sex — I should’ve had my fill by now — but fuck, they’re so appealing. So goddamn irresistibly tempting.
29
ZANE
“Don’t worry, Brittany. You heard him apologize. He’s not going to say anything.” I’m so fucking mad at myself for allowing her to get caught in this situation, but what the hell was the guy doing barging in here?
“He was shocked. We have no idea how he’ll react. He could call the Stantons and report us.”
“He’s not going to do that,” Jordan says, but who the hell knows. Maybe he will. Fuck.
What’s done is done, though. The best thing we can do now is try to keep Brittany calm.
“The man was embarrassed for walking in,” I tell her. “What’s he going to do, call and tattle on us like a kid on the playground?”
“We’ve put all of our jobs in jeopardy,” Brittany says, her hands threaded in her hair like she’s about to pull it out. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
“Why are you sorry?” Owen has his arms around her in an instant, but she shakes him off.
“No, no more of that. We can’t.” It’s a small room, but she makes the most of it, pacing around like she’s got a step count to meet.
Colin tries next. “It’s okay, Brittany. He’s not going to say anything.”
“You don’t know that. We have no way of knowing that.” She’s still agitated, but her pace slows. “But I don’t think there’s anything to be done about it. If I go and talk to him, it might make matters worse.”
“Yeah, don’t do that,” I say.
“He’ll be counting all the money he pulled in tonight, and he’ll forget all about it,” Jordan says.
For Brittany’s sake, I hope he’s right. Of course, I can’t afford to lose this job, but it’s her that I’m worried about.
We’re all silent on the ride back to the hotel. After saying goodnight to Toad, the four of us men look to Brittany.
“Come to our room, Britt?” Jordan asks, and her face is pained, but it’s not about the nickname, which she doesn’t seem to mind anymore.
“I can’t. We can’t,” she says, though it’s clear she wants to.
“Are you hungry?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “I probably won’t have an appetite for the rest of the tour after what happened tonight.”
“Let’s go out and talk,” I say. “We need to eat. I saw a diner down the street.”
“I guess that would be one of the safest things we could do,” she says. “I’ll try not to crawl into your laps and start dry humping you in front of the waitress.”
“Yeah, at least wait until the waitress goes back into the kitchen,” Jordan says, wrapping his arm around her shoulders and pulling her close. I’m happy to see that he makes her smile.
The conversation stays on light topics as we walk to the diner, but once we’re seated across from each other, Brittany’s expression shifts. She doesn’t say anything while we look at the menus, and not even after we place our orders, but I know it’s coming, and I’ve always been a “rip the band-aid off in one pull” kind of guy. “What’s on your mind, Brittany? Is it more than just what happened tonight?”
She looks back at me, expressionless at first, though I can tell she’s processing something. “We can’t continue what we’ve been doing,” she says finally. “That’s obvious.”