Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 58090 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 290(@200wpm)___ 232(@250wpm)___ 194(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58090 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 290(@200wpm)___ 232(@250wpm)___ 194(@300wpm)
“Hi. Can I get you anything to drink?” Damn! Hearing her voice was so bittersweet. And that smile.
“—I’m back, girl! I’ll take care of it!” called out the other girl, wiping her hands with sanitizer. She must have just come back from a break.
Tori smiled and nodded her head toward the girl. Then, in her smooth, sultry voice, she said, “She’s back, cowboy. I’ll let her take care of you.”
Did she just call me cowboy? The muscles in my jaw twitched and flexed like I was chewing on an entire pack of gum. I needed to find out what was happening—what she was doing here. But tonight wasn’t the night.
Shit was about to go down, and I didn’t need her caught up in it.
Fuck.
I put on my best non-southern accent and said, “Thank you.” Tori did a double-take, but I swiftly turned the barstool toward the crowd, so she couldn’t see my eyes. I heard her walk off and then turned back to Busty Bartender.
“Bourbon, please.”
She smiled and put down a half-full tumbler. “That’s what I thought.”
“Well, you thought right, sweet cheeks,” I said, throwing back the liquid gold in one drink and then pushing off the bar.
“Leaving so soon?” She arched a thick brow at me.
I chuckled. I really wished none of this was happening. She looked like a lot of fun. But I had to get away before Tori came back—I also had an important meeting. “Yes, ma’am. Duty calls.”
“Well, it was nice to see you again.”
“You, too.”
I set my jaw and turned away, scanning the room for Tori. I hoped I didn’t see her again before the meeting took place. What if she recognized me? What would I say?
My focus was off, my mind spinning with what would happen if she walked up to me now. I couldn’t let that happen.
Damn it.
A glance at my watch sent my blood pressure to new heights. I had five minutes before the meeting. I couldn’t be late. That would blow my chances before I even opened my mouth.
I pushed through the thick crowd, taking slow, deliberate breaths to get my composure. I followed the path that Richie had led me down the night before and made my way to his private suite. Richie had mentioned he and his crew occupied the same room most nights—courtesy of the owners. I paused outside the door and took a moment, trying to rein in my frantic heartbeat. I prayed to God Tori wasn’t behind the closed doors.
“Damn it.” I shook my shoulders, my arms flailing loose at my sides. My focus was gone. Confidence drained. Months of planning were on the line. Hell, my life was on the line. And it was all feeling a lot riskier now, knowing that Tori was here.
Of all the places in the world…why here? Why tonight?
They were unanswerable questions. The more I turned them over in my mind, the more insane I became.
I adjusted my suit jacket and then pushed into the private room. The red-tinge was turned off tonight. The lights were low but more like the rest of the club. Apparently, this is what it looked like for real business. I was immediately greeted by a hulking security guard who stepped in front of me. I didn’t recognize him and figured he must be one of Richie’s henchmen.
“He’s with me,” Richie called from across the room.
The guard gave me a once-over but then stepped out of my way.
Richie was sitting in the same place he’d occupied the night before, a cigar in his hand. Across from him a new guy I’d never seen. Dark suit, black-rimmed glasses, and a hell of a lot of suspicions.
It didn’t feel right—I didn’t feel right.
Richie chuckled as I strode across the room. “What’s the matter with you, Starr? You look like you just saw a fuckin’ ghost.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Tori
It was odd how I could be smack dab in the middle of Hollywood’s hottest underground club, surrounded by so many people, and still feel so incredibly alone. There wasn’t another feeling quite like being in the middle of a crowd—yet aching with loneliness. But that was my daily reality, ever since I moved to the Los Angeles area almost a year ago.
You’d think by now I’d be well-adjusted and happy, living it up and enjoying the new opportunities I’d found along the way.
Yeah, not so much.
Still, being at work was better than being home alone in my tiny apartment that barely had enough room to turn around. West L.A. rental prices were enough to make your eyes bleed.
Working the bar at Parkston’s was a better paying job than most other bars in Hollywood. Parkston’s was very exclusive and only allowed members who were of a certain…caliber. Meaning, flush. And, given the nature of the club, most of the men—and some of the women—who came in were more than willing to hand over wads of cash and flash their black AMEX cards to show their appreciation of my assets.