On my first night, I quickly realized that the fights in Rafe’s club were dirty, as in no rules and no referees, and that’s why they were kept a secret. I personally didn’t see the appeal, but rich men came in droves to see two men try to kill each other. Maybe it was the fact that Rafe required evening attire to attend or that they paid three figures for one cocktail. Whatever it was, Rafe had a packed house each fight night.
But I would admit that the job wasn’t half bad. The high heels and black skirts we were made to wear weren’t great. And the men could be crude and boisterous, but the tips were awesome. In fact, I’d never seen so much cash in my life. It was stacked on the tables in large piles like you only see in movies. Some had the bank binding while others were just wrapped in rubber bands. And the patrons had no qualms about handing out tips with Benjamin Franklin’s picture on it. If I didn’t have my issues with Jordan, I would say screw California and stay in Vegas.
But I did have my issues with Jordan, and I was no closer to accomplishing my goal than I was two weeks ago. Jordan was an expert at evasion. I only ever saw him when there were other people in the room, and the attempts I made to seek him out never worked out. Every day I thought about giving up and heading to California. But my stubborn pride wouldn’t allow it.
I made friends with a few of the other girls. Joni was a little blonde girl from Kansas. She came with her boyfriend to Vegas only to be dumped for a show girl. This job came just in time since she was kicked out of their place the day before. She was sweet and, therefore, vulnerable to all the predators around the club. I’d somehow become her unwitting protector, constantly pulling her away from the fighters just looking for a piece of ass. Maybe I saw a part of myself in her and wished someone had looked out for me.
Then there was Tristen, a statuesque redhead whom I could only describe as fierce. She was confident, sexy, and made demands of everyone around her. I had no idea why she decided to be friends with me out of all the other girls. She did most of the talking when we hung out, and I discovered that she was kind of a slut. But she was the type of slut you could respect, the type who slept around for her own pleasure and not some need to be loved.
Tristen’s section of tables was next to mine while Joni’s was across the ring.
I was standing at my waiting place by my tables. Rafe had been very specific about how we served the clients. I wasn’t to approach them unless they summoned me with a gesture. Then I was to fulfill their request and then go right back to my place and wait. He said it was done that way in Europe. I had just smiled and nodded, all while rolling my eyes mentally.
I looked up to the balcony where Rafe and Jordan sat like a couple of Roman emperors in the Colosseum. They were both flanked by a beautiful woman. I had a feeling that women weren’t allowed in the club except as arm candy and servants. Part of me was offended, but another part simply wasn’t surprised.
Jordan's gaze was on the fight, and he did a good job of acting interested. But every few minutes I would feel his eyes on me. He was subtle about it, never letting his face betray his thoughts, but I could see the simmer in his eyes. I recognized that gaze. It promised harsh punishment but heated pleasure. I felt myself shiver as I thought about all the nights that I surrendered to that look.
“Hey, sweet cheeks.” A man from table number five was holding his empty glass in the air. He was a shorter gentleman with red thinning hair and a round, ruddy face. His name was Mr. Paul, and he was one of the regulars. He was not my favorite customer seeing how he used names like “sweet cheeks” to get my attention. And he never said thank you. He brought another man with him tonight that I’d never seen before. He was equally rude with a dollop of creepy. He had a thin face with glasses, and his scrutinizing gaze made him seem like a serial killer.
I glided to the table. “Yes, sir. Refill? Or something different?”
“I definitely want something different,” he said. Before I knew what was happening, he grabbed a hold of my arm and tugged me toward him. My heels made it impossible to do anything else but fall into his lap.
He twisted me around, putting his hand on my belly. Instinct had me striking out with my elbow and hitting his nose. His head whipped back, and I quickly scrambled back to my feet. His friend jumped out of his chair and came at me, but he was stopped mid-lunge when Benny grabbed his collar and yanked him back.
A loud whistle came from the balcony causing everyone to stop, even the fighters in the ring.
“Benny. Bring them both up here along with the girl,” Rafe said. Then he looked around. “Carry on.” Benny shoved the two men in front of him toward the stairs, and I brought up the rear.
Just great. Now I was going to get fired and Jordan was going to get exactly what he wanted.
The fight continued, and the space was filled with cheering again. Up in the balcony, the noise was less deafening. I stood next to Benny when we all made it up the stairs. I peeked a glance at Jordan to find him glaring daggers at the man with the broken nose.
“Ladies, please leave us,” Rafe said, and the two women slipped between me and Benny toward the stairs.
Rafe looked at the men and then at me. I could see the anger in the way he clenched his jaw. “Cecilia, I want you to explain what happened,” he said.
“Sir. I'm so sorry. Mr. Paul pulled me into his lap, and I'm afraid I overreacted. Please don't fire me,” I said, trying to put remorse in my voice.
“Cecilia,” he said softly as he came closer. “I'm not angry with you. You were defending yourself.”
I breathed a little easier and nodded.
“Defending herself?” Mr. Paul spat through the blood. “I was only joking with her and she broke my nose.”
Rafe moved until he stood in front of Mr. Paul. “You know the waitresses are not here for that kind of entertainment.”
“For what we pay to get in here, they should be,” the glasses man said. “She’s nothing but a whore.”
Rafe was quiet for a moment as he took a step back. He turned his head slightly to look at Jordan, who simply nodded his head subtly.
Rafe looked back at the men. “You both are banished from my club,” he said, a look of satisfaction claiming his face.
“What?” Mr. Paul exclaimed. “That’s not fair.”
Rafe ignored him and looked at the other man. “And just so you know not to fuck with me, I’m going to teach you a lesson in respect.” Rafe turned his head again. “Jordan,” Rafe said, gesturing to the other man.
Jordan moved to the glasses man's side, twisting his arm behind his back until there was a distinctive snap.
I covered my mouth to keep from screaming. Jordan threw the moaning man to the floor and then looked at me, his face a mask of cruelty and gratification.
“Get them out of here,” Rafe said to Benny. Both men were practically shoved toward the exit. Not sure what to do, I went to follow them, more than ready to leave the room.
“Wait, Cecilia,” Rafe said. “I want to talk to you.”
I turned back toward Rafe and put my hands together in front of me.
“Jordan, can you give us a minute?” Rafe said.
Jordan simply nodded and walked toward the stairs. He didn’t look at me, which made me a little frightened.
“Can I get you a drink?” Rafe asked.
“Oh, no, sir. I’m okay.”
He lifted an eyebrow at me. “That was a little traumatic. Why don’t you take a rest?” he said, gesturing to the couch near the small bar.
I smiled. “Maybe just some water.” I didn’t want to stay, but he was right.
“Of course, have a seat.”
I sat down on the couch, but I didn't relax my back.
Rafe handed me the cup and sat next to me, close but not too close. He looked good, like he always did. I always thought of the word “suave” when I saw Rafe. His dark hair was combed away from his face, his clothes styled, and his attitude was just so smooth. His cologne even had a spicy hint to it, that made it
seem exotic.
“Cecilia, what would you say to having dinner with me tomorrow night?” he said.
I nearly choked on my water. “Like a date?” I said stupidly.
“Yes,” he smiled.
“I don't think dating the boss is ever recommended if you want to keep the job,” I said, laughing a little as I tried to cover my nervousness. I knew Rafe liked me, but I didn’t think he would go so far as to ask me out.
“I suppose that is true. But I like you, Cecilia, and I want to get to know you better,” he said, his voice smooth and gentle but deep at the same time. He took one of my hands that had been gripping the glass of water. He rubbed his thumb on the back of my hand.
It reminded me of Jordan. I shook my head. “I don't know.”
“Tell you what. How about I give Jordan complete power over you?” he said, cupping my hand in both of his.
“What?” I said.
“I mean, Jordan will be the only person you will report to. If there are any issues you have with the job, you'll report it to him. And he will have the power to speak to you about your job performance if necessary. I will excuse myself from anything related to your work here.” He smiled like it was a simple plan.
“But doesn't Jordan work for you?” I said, trying to get out of this without losing my job.
“He is actually more of a partner. If I want to fire you because of a romantic notion, I promise you that Jordan won’t do it. He has too much integrity for that.”
I had to bite my lip to keep from scoffing. He thought Jordan had integrity. I almost felt sorry for him in his ignorance.
I looked down at the carpet, thinking of ways to get out of this. I quickly surmised that I couldn't say no without jeopardizing things.
“Okay, I suppose dinner won't hurt,” I said softly.
“Excellent, I'll meet you in the front hall at seven tomorrow.”
“Okay.” I nodded and headed down the stairs.
I saw Jordan waiting at the bottom of the stairs. I tried to simply pass him by, but he caught hold of my wrist. I glared at him.
“What?” I said.
“I just want to ask if you're all right?”
“I'm fine,” I said a little too quickly. I felt his thumb brush my wrist in a light caress, and I nearly fell into his arms. The intimacy we once had seemed to hover between us. I felt myself wanting to confess everything in that moment. I wanted to tell him that I came here for him and that I was in over my head here. But I sealed my lips shut and tugged my wrist away. He let me go, and I went back to my tables.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Jordan
“She said yes,” Rafe said when I came back up the stairs.
“Yes, to what?” I asked, walking to the bar to poor myself a stiff drink. Breaking that man’s arm felt good after what he said about Cece, but I was still on fire with rage. Watching that man touch her and not being the one to defend her, to protect her, went against every instinct I had as an adult male.
“To dinner,” Rafe replied.
I struggled to keep my face neutral as my stomach somersaulted and more rage flooded my veins.
How dare she? What the hell is she thinking?
“Is it a good idea to date an employee?” I asked.
“She said the same thing, but I told her that I would have you act as her boss going forward.” He sat down on the couch, stretching out like a lion. “If there are any problems with her job performance, you would handle it. I told her that only you have the power to fire her.”
Stupid girl. If that were true, I'd fire her in a second. But Rafe wouldn't allow it, not until he had what he wanted. “And she believed that?” I said.
“Yep,” he responded, smiling like a Cheshire cat.
I returned to my seat to watch the last fight of the night. I was outwardly calm, but I was counting the minutes until the night was over. I had a very important meeting to attend, and Cece just made it even more urgent.
****
It was three in the morning when I finally left the club and walked the five blocks to the meeting place. A man was sitting in a Buick with darkened windows when I rounded the corner. I took a quick look around before I approached the vehicle and opened the passenger door.
“What do you have?” he asked bluntly when I settled into the seat.
“Absolutely nothing,” I said.
“Then why the fuck would you ask for a meeting?” he asked, his thin lips curling into a sneer.
“Cece is at the club,” I said through gritted teeth.
His brow wrinkled. “How did she find you?”
I stared ahead at the garbage lined alley. “I'm pretty sure she went to one of my associates back in Clayton.”
“The club?”
“No,” I said bluntly. “You have to help me get rid of her.”
The man shrugged. “Why not just tell her the truth?”
I let out a frustrated breath. “Because she will want to help.”
He was silent for a moment, and then he said, “Well we can grab her.”
I shook my head. “Rafe has taken an interest in her. If she were to leave, there would have to be a plausible excuse.”
He lifted a blond eyebrow at me. “What do you mean he has taken an interest?”
I glared at him. “What does it usually mean?”
“We could have her arrested?” he suggested.
“No, that would be suspicious seeing how I've already told Rafe that I cleared her.”
“Maybe you made a mistake.”
I just looked at him, insulted that he would suggest something like that.
“Give me some time,” he said. “I'll figure something out.”
“Make it quick. This is too dangerous for her,” I growled.
“Hey, don't start giving me orders, boy. We wouldn't be in this mess if you hadn't underestimated your friend.”
“I didn't underestimate him. I underestimated Cece.” I laughed almost to myself. Fucking Cece.
He nodded his head in agreement.
“I'd berate you if I wasn't guilty of the same thing,” he said. “My wife, I never thought she would leave me. I arrogantly thought that she had nowhere else to go.” He looked out the front window. “But I was wrong.”
As much as I hated this man, I felt sorry for the bastard. He lost his wife because he was so focused on his career. Now all he had was his career. He didn't even have any children to care about him. I really didn't want that to be me. I needed to get out of this mess, but more importantly, I needed Cece out of this mess. My only incentive for surviving this operation was to eventually get back to her. But this game was too complicated.
“So, you have nothing new?” he asked, bring the conversation back to the mission.
I shook my head. “No, I've gone through his phone and laptop. There is nothing there to help us.”
“Damn.”
“How much time are they going to waste?” I asked, feeling a little childish, but it had to be said.
“You know that is not my call.”
“Of course not, Parker,” I snapped as I opened the door. “It’s never your call.”
I stepped out on the street and slammed the door shut, not caring how much noise I was making.
I managed to get back to the club without anyone seeing me. I took the stairs to go to my room but found myself standing outside Cece's room. Several times I lifted my fist to knock, just to lower it again. I wanted to talk to her but had no idea what to say. Telling her the truth would only make her stay, and lying would have the same effect.
Why was she here? Could it really be love? I wanted to believe it, but that was a foolish hope. There had to be something else.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Jordan
Clayton, SD
Three Months Earlier
We spent three more days in the hospital before Cece said goodbye to her mom. Sonny was going to drive Betsy to Arizona before he went to Florida. Cece had been apprehens
ive about Sonny being the one to see things through, but I was sure he would do the right thing. I spoke to him and he was determined for things to change, even it meant the end of his relationship with Betsy.
I had driven back to Clayton with my arm around Cece, feeling good about the road ahead. At the beginning, I wasn’t sure Betsy would go to rehab. And if that was the case, I had a plan to convince Cece to remove her from her life. I knew it sounded cruel, but I wasn’t going to allow Betsy to hurt Cece anymore.
Now Cece and I had some time to ourselves. After a few days back in Clayton, it became clear that Cece’s house was where we could be together. We couldn’t go to the apartment with Greg living there, and she flat out refused to stay at the clubhouse. So, I stayed at her house every night, refusing to sleep away from her. And she didn’t protest, especially when I made her come multiple times whenever we were in bed together.
I resisted the urge to simply tell her that I should move in, knowing it would freak her out. But, surprisingly, she started the process before I did. One morning I woke up to shower and found men’s shampoo and body wash sitting with her feminine products. I had to stop myself from howling like a wolf.
The next week, she was going through her mother’s closet, packing up some clothes to send to her and throwing older stuff out. I came into the room and leaned against the wall just watching her.
“How’s it going?” I asked.
“Good,” she smiled. “My mom sent me a message to donate some of her stuff to charity.”
Suddenly, she stopped and looked at me, fiddling with a hanger. “Um, I was thinking that with all this space being freed up, maybe I could move some of my clothes in here and then … maybe there would be enough room for some of your clothes in my closet.”
I was so shocked by the invitation that I must have given her a strange look.
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