I know how Thomas died. I even know what his last words were. Revealing none of this information, I pour a tall glass of ice water, setting it in front of him. “Drink.”
At first, he refuses. But then he comes to his senses, downing the contents of the glass. “I should get home.”
“Want me to call you a cab?” I ask.
“I need the fresh air.” He gives me one last pissed-off look as he heads out of the bar.
Theo has been alone the past few weeks, but when he first showed up, he’d been working with another agent, Jet—a tall man with dark hair. Jet was amiable, sharp, and not emotionally invested in the case. Theo must have kicked him to the curb.
If Theo asked for my opinion, I’d tell him he’s treading awfully close to a breakdown and he ought to let Jet take over. But with Jet on the case, the agency might actually get somewhere in their investigation, so I keep my opinions to myself.
Victoria, our newest bartender, comes over to me. It’s only her second week on the floor, but she’s already a pro and the customers love her. With a frown on her face, she watches Theo stumble from the bar. “Him again? He’s been here every night I’ve worked. He’s always alone.”
“And always leaves piss drunk.” As the words leave my mouth, I watch Theo trip, bumping into one of the wives of the mafia. Her young husband’s jaw clenches, and he makes a move toward Theo. “Oh, shit. That’s not good.”
“What?” Victoria stands on tiptoe, craning her neck to see what I see. She’s so tiny, I can’t seem to get used to her small stature.
“He’s rammed into a Beauty. I’ll be right back.” I race out to the dance floor, luckily getting to Theo before the offended husband does.
Taking the agent’s arm, I escort him to the door before a fight can arise. I arrange a car to take him to his hotel. In the morning when he’s sober, he’ll have to suffer through the embarrassment of knowing that I know where he’s staying during his investigation. And that a car from the family he’s supposed to be infiltrating did him the favor of driving him home.
Reentering the bar, I walk by the couple, joking to lighten the mood, “Sorry about that. Some people just can’t handle their liquor, can they?”
Returning to Victoria, we stand side by side, behind the bar. We watch the handsome couple twirl across the floor as they squeeze in one final dance before the music disappears. The Beauties out on a Girls’ Night Out get in one last round of drinks.
Victoria rests her elbow on the bar, sighing wistfully. “Would you ever join their ranks?”
Looking away, I answer, “Me? I don’t know.”
She murmurs softly, “I would. In a second.”
My gaze floats over Victoria. With her womanly curves, long dark hair, and those piercing aquamarine eyes of hers, she could easily pass for a Bachman Beauty. She’s a bit on the short side, but it’s nothing a pair of high heels couldn’t fix. “You’d fit right in.”
She heaves a sigh. “I wish.”
I joke, “Is it the money you’re after?”
A pretty pink blush rises in her cheeks and she looks away from the couple. “No. It’s not that.”
I crack a smile. “What is it, then? Those gorgeous tattoos that you’re always complimenting their men about?”
She shakes her head, my teasing embarrassing her. “It’s silly.”
I soften my tone. “Tell me. I won’t judge you.”
“It’s... the friendship.” She points to a dark corner of the club.
There’s a group of Beauties in a tight-knit group, shaking their hips, their arms circled around one another as they laugh and dance.
“Ah, the famous Bachman Beauties,” I say.
She says, “They just seem so close.”
“Looks like fun,” I say.
“It’s more than that. Strong women taking care of one another and raising one another up, instead of cutting each other down with their jealous words.” She looks at me, horrified as if she’s exposed herself. “Ugh. I can’t believe I said all that out loud. I’ll shut up now.”
My gaze lingers on her face, wondering what kind of life she’s had. Who’s hurt her in the past? Why is she feels so lonely now?
But it’s not my business, is it?
I’m only the bartender.
Chapter Two
Victoria
Five weeks I’ve been working. And five weeks I’ve gone without a single pickup line. Tonight is no different.
How can it be that out of the dozens of gorgeous, available men I’ve served, not one has asked me out? I’ve flirted, made eyes at them, complimented their tattoos. They all just smile politely, leave a generous tip, and walk away.
There must be something wrong with me.
Making sure no one’s looking, I take a quick whiff beneath my arm. Vanilla and rosewater. I smell fine, so it can’t be body odor driving them away.
Excusing myself from the bar, I rush to the bathroom to check my makeup. My taupe shimmery eyeshadow and deep brown eyeliner are still intact, making my aqua eyes pop. Even after a few hours of work, my long dark hair is still smooth and straight.
Grabbing at my top, I adjust the material, twisting my bra a bit and perking up the girls. Smoothing down my short skirt, I decide that I look fine, better than usual, actually, thanks to my new salary. I’m able to afford salon visits, manicures, and clothes that didn’t come of the clearance rack.
So why can’t I get a second glance?
The only man that’s said more than two words to me in the last five weeks is Luke, my co-worker. We stand side by side all night, mixing drinks and pouring beers. Jokes and light conversation casually shifting between us as we work.
He’s a handsome man with light brown shaggy hair and green eyes. Maybe five or six years older than me. Muscled and strong, but in that long, lean, kick your ass with karate way. Not in the steroid taking, deadlift your girlfriend as a party trick kind of way.
The space behind the bar is pretty tight. Often times while we’re working, his arm will brush mine when he reaches over me to get something. Or he’ll come behind me, grab me around my waist, and move me to the side so he can get into the fridge beneath the counter.
Somehow, I’m always blocking that damn fridge.
He’s got this commanding presence about him. He can stop a fight with a few words, or sometimes, just by standing nearby.
And there’s a hint of something softer beneath his hard exterior. You can tell he’s a guy who would protect his girl at all costs and spoil the hell out of her while he’s at it.
Luke makes me feel safe. As if he’s looking out for me.
Returning from the restroom, I slide back behind the bar and joke, “Did you miss me?”
Luke’s eyes lock on mine, holding my gaze. “Always.”
My breath catches in my throat at his honest response.
“That’s nice.” Those bottle-green eyes scorch me down to my soul. I clear my throat, looking down at the bar.
When has a look from a guy ever turned my knees to jelly and made my panties melt like they’re doing right now? I find my gaze lingering on Luke.
Luckily, a customer approaches the bar, distracting me. It’s one of the Brothers from the Parrish, the family’s private island off the coast of Greece. The family moves back and forth between their three homesteads, but I can tell this man was initiated at the Parrish because he’s marked with the swirl of a black tattoo beneath the sleeve of his tight tee shirt.
He speaks with a thick accent. “Can I get a whiskey?”
“Of course.” He’s handsome and tanned and I give him a seductive smile as I pour his drink. “I love your tattoo by the way.”
Not bothering to answer me, he gives a nod to Luke. He takes the glass from me without a second glance and says, “Put it on my tab.”
I know I’m not a supermodel by any means, but the rejection is starting to make me feel like I’m revolting the opposite sex. Frustrated, I turn to Luke. “Can I ask you something?”<
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“Anything.” He stares at me attentively, waiting to hear what I have to say.
Resting against the counter behind the bar, I cross my arms over my chest and release an exasperated sigh. “What’s wrong with me?”
Picking me up, he moves me to the right and puts me back down. “Other than the fact that you stand in front of the fridge all night and I can never get in there?”
“Sorry. I don’t know why I keep doing that. No—what’s wrong with me... as a woman?”
He eyes me up and down in a way that makes me blush. “Nothing wrong with you as far as I can see. What do you mean?”
“Not one single Bachman man will give me the time of day. I’m flirting my little heart out and it amounts to nothing. Nada. Zilch. Zero. Not a single wink or smile or even a how are you doing.”
Now he’s moving closer. The clean scent of his cologne reaches me and there’s that look again, the smoldering, sexy one that spreads a warmth through my stomach, traveling between my thighs. Making a heavy aching in my core.
He says, “Maybe you’re flirting with the wrong men.”
“Am I?” I move a few inches away from him, hoping distance will relieve me of his spell.
His eyes cut to mine. “Or, maybe it’s something else.”
“Something else? Like what?” Is that guilt I’m sensing on his face?
His gaze locks on mine as if sending me a message. “Maybe someone warned them off you.”
He moves in closer, till he’s standing only inches from me. His panther-like stance, the way he’s moving in as if he has some type of ownership over me, the stormy clouds gathering in his eyes; all signs point to him being the one to keep these men away.
But why?
I’m sure I’m on the right path but when I say the words out loud, they sound almost ridiculous. “Did you—say something? To keep the men away?”
He gives a shrug. “Maybe I did.”
So, he did scare the eligible bachelors off!
Damn him!
All my contouring and blowouts and padded bras and squeezing into uncomfortable dresses for nothing. He’s sabotaged me. Anger rises in me, burning hot. “Why would you do that, Luke?”
He gives a shrug, as if bored by the conversation, disinterested in my livelihood. “It was the right thing to do. I was doing my job and keeping the Brothers out of trouble.”
“You think I’m trouble?” My temper flares. I look for the closest weapon. The soda water sprayer. I grab it, holding it up to his face. “Tell me what you said to them. Right now. Or so help me God, you’re going to be one very wet bartender.”
He narrows his eyes. “You wouldn’t dare, little girl.”
“Wouldn’t I?” I hold it closer to him, my hands shaking with rage. I aim it at his shirt.
“I’m warning you, Victoria. Pull that trigger and you’re going to one sorry little girl.” He raises one dark brow and his gaze is so threatening, a trill of fear shoots through me.
What would he do to me?
Nothing.
He can’t do anything to me. And he deserves a good soaking. I pull the trigger. The water shoots out, hitting him in the chest and soaking his shirt.
I give a laugh at my little prank, but when I see the look on his face, it lodges in my throat. He’s furious. I’ve crossed a line.
Setting the sprayer down, I back away from Luke, suddenly scared of him.
He grabs my arm, bringing my ear to his mouth. Leaning down, he growls, “I’m going to spank your ass, then you’re going to be one very wet bartender.”
“You’re going to—spank me?” Fear and shock run through me, a white heat covering my face. He can’t be serious, can he?
“That’s what happens to little girls that act like brats. They get their asses spanked till they’re crying and apologizing.” He tugs my arm hard, pulling me into the storeroom.
He shuts the door behind us. The other door, the one that leads to the alley where we keep the dumpsters, is cracked, letting in the cool night air. He releases my arm but before I can make a run for it, he’s got his foot propped up on a cart and me bent over his hard thigh.
It’s all happening so fast I can barely think. The only words in my mind seem to be ‘I’m going to spank your ass,’ running on repeat. When I finally wake up the connection from my brain to my tongue, I lash out. “What the hell do you think you’re doing? Let me go, right now!”
But I’m already hanging over his leg, my hair around my face, my toes barely reaching the floor. Being in this position, it’s so humiliating; the man has full control over me.
And he’s going to spank me like a naughty little girl.
His hand comes down on my bottom and the pain is more than I could have imagined. I’m shocked at how quickly it spreads over me. “Ow! That hurt.”
“Maybe you’ll think twice, next time you want to spray me with water.” He spanks me hard, once on both cheeks, the thin fabric of my skirt offering me little protection.
“You deserved it!” I shriek, trying to wriggle from his grasp.
He tightens his hold around my waist, making it impossible to get away. “And you deserve this.” He brings his hand down again, spanking the curves of my bottom with hard, stinging smacks.
“Ow! Please stop!” I wriggle harder, to no avail. “This is not an appropriate response to a little prank!”
“It was disrespectful.” He spanks me hard and fast, right cheek, left cheek, over and over again.
He yanks up my skirt. The cool air caresses the tops of my thighs.
“Ow! I am sorry.” And I am. But mostly because my ass is in so much pain and he’s pulled up my tiny skirt, exposing my panties. The spraying him with water part still gives me some satisfaction.
“I don’t think you’re sorry at all, little girl. Let’s get these panties down and see if we can get you to a place of regret.”
He’s going to pull my panties down? Exposing my ass and who knows what else he’ll be able to see... no way in hell can I let this happen. “If you touch my panties, so help me God, I’ll tell Rockland and he’ll fire you so fast—”
He snaps, “Tell Rockland what you did and see if he doesn’t take you over his own knee.”
Ice forms in my stomach. I’m helpless and at his mercy. He’s too strong for me to get away. I have no viable threat to stop him... his fingers are creeping under the elastic waist of my panties.
It’s humiliating, I feel a deep sense of shame and dread heavy in my core. But as he rolls my panties down, exposing my bare skin, I feel something else.
A pulsing throb in my pussy. A dampening in the gusset of the panties I’m about to lose; I am one very wet bartender, as Luke promised I would be. I’m so turned on, my nipples are hardened to tight little peaks. My breaths come in fast, short bursts. How will it feel like to have his hand spank my bare bottom?
I find out all too soon. He brings his hand down, spanking my ass. The fire is even more intense without the protection of my panties. I have to end this—I must convince him that I’m sorry. “It won’t happen again. I swear! I’ll be good.”
He snorts. “You? You’ll be a good girl? I have my doubts.”
“Why?” As the spanks rain down, I consider begging.
“You’ve got to get that temper under control in order to be a good girl. You think you can do that?” He spanks me again.
I try to answer but before I can find the words, the alleyway door bursts open.
Luke has my panties snapped into place, my skirt down, and me thrown behind his back so fast it’s as if he’s got supernatural powers. I peek over his shoulders to find two large men, a bit of a Bachman Parrish tattoo sticking out from their shirts, holding a third man between them.
Luke says, “What the hell are you doing here?”
The taller one eyes me, then answers Luke. “Boss’s orders. What’s she doing here?”
The man in the middle looks from me to Luke, terror in his eyes.
Luke says,
“Just a little staff training.”
The second Brother makes a sound as if he’s holding in a laugh. I feel my cheeks go red.
The first man says to Luke, “He’s seen her. If anything were to go wrong—she’s going to be in danger until we take care of it.”
“Take care of what?” I ask. I think of the man—the desperate look in his eyes. “Are you going to kill him?”
Luke says, “I’ve got to get her out of here. I’ll take her to mine for the night, just to be sure.”
Big man gives a nod of agreement.
Luke looks at me. “You’re coming with me.”
“Excuse me? Don’t I have a say in this?” I protest.
Luke gives me a gaze that reminds me of my throbbing ass and makes my mouth snap shut. Without answering me, he takes my hand. Just grabs it up in his massive one like he owns me.
We leave the storeroom via the alleyway door, walking past the three men. My shoulder brushes against one of the Brothers and it sends a chill down my spine.
Once we’re alone in the alleyway, I ask, “What was that? What was happening?”
Luke says, “You’ve worked for the family long enough to know not to stick your nose where it doesn’t belong. Don’t ask.”
His stern words give me a little shiver. Trying to gain some control of the situation, I tug at my hand, wanting to untangle it from his. “Fine, but shouldn’t you be asking me if I want to spend the night at your apartment?”
“Absolutely not.” He holds my hand tighter. “You’ve already shown once tonight that your temper leads you to make bad choices.”
I want to argue, to snap back, but my ass is still sore, and... it feels nice, him holding my hand in his.
Too nice.
And in that moment with the pad of his thumb stroking the back of my hand as we walk down the city sidewalk, I come to a sudden, shocking realization; I want to fuck this man.
Chapter Three
Victoria
My mind whirs, trying to figure out how I went from friend zoning Luke to wanting him in my panties so desperately. Having him spank me in that closet has me more turned on than I’ve ever been before. My heart is racing, my panties are damp just thinking of his body against mine.
Say Daddy: A Mafia Billionaire Romance Page 2