Demanding Boss

by Celia Crown

  I spent more money securing ownership of this club than it was worth. I wasn’t going to let that investment go down the drain and dedicated myself to turning its horrible reputation around.

  It took months of hard work, but I rebranded the place, and it is now the most prominent nightclub in town.

  All that effort was to give Emmy a safe place to work.

  Nonetheless, it still attracts rich assholes who feel entitled. As long as they keep their hands off my Emmy, I don’t care how they spend their money. It is common practice to shower the girls with cash so they will fall onto their laps.

  Emmy has standards and is painfully awkward around men. It’s more from inexperience than fear, and that’s why she appeals to me.

  When patronized by pompous rich men, I’ve seen women do drastic things to become their arm candy. I’ve experienced absurd efforts to garner my attention, but no one succeeds because it disgusts me.

  I only want Emmy, but she looks at me like she thinks I’m going to kill her.

  I haven’t done anything to her. I never raise my voice, I treat her fairly, and I control my urge to snatch her from the dance floor.

  I try not to give her preferential treatment but have failed miserably.

  I assign her to the VIP floor most of the time so she can avoid the drunken fondling. There is also more space on the second floor, so she isn’t overwhelmed by rancid bodies.

  I don’t think I’m that obvious about my bias, but chatter has come back to me. I keep an eye out for envious workers who want to take their frustrations out on Emmy.

  No one has stepped out of line, though, and I expect it to stay that way.

  How I spend my money is none of their business.

  It’s not their place to judge how I spoil Emmy since I control their employment status. I won’t hesitate to destroy their chances at future employment if they dare to cross me.

  I’m fair about most things, but I draw the line at Emmy.

  The extra money I add to her paycheck is for her to use as she chooses. I refuse to let her live in a dingy apartment or not have access to a camera.

  I want her to live in a fortified home with high-level security.

  Emmy hasn’t disappointed me; she got herself a nice condo and is living comfortably.

  That’s all I want; I couldn’t care less what she does with the extra money.

  She earns it by being a good girl for me.

  I tap my fingers on the mahogany desk as I scan the security feeds for a sign of her. There is no such thing as too many security cameras. Frivolous lawsuits come from every direction, but my lawyers are on retainer to handle them.

  I impatiently scan the crowd, but she blends in too easily. Without neon-colored hair or distinctive markings, Emmy doesn’t stand out physically.

  Yet, she shines the brightest in my eyes. It’s how I can zero in as soon as my eyes get a glimpse of her. Something about her stands out to me, like a sore thumb that annoys me.

  I don’t want to live with these sensations every minute: the butterflies, the pins and needles, the aching, the racing pulse.

  I hate this fairy-tale concept of feelings. I’m repulsed by it, but the attachment I have for Emmy makes it tolerable.

  It’s by no means a healthy attachment.

  The fondness I feel comes from my need to brand Emmy as mine. I want her to be pretty, willing, and compliant.

  “Why the fuck isn’t she home by now?” I hiss at the monitor.

  Once I find her, she’s as bright as the sun. Everyone else fades away like worthless, withered leaves.

  She should have been out the door, in a cab, and on the elevator at her condo already. There is absolutely no reason for her to stay past her shift.

  I slam my drink down and jump out of my chair, stalking out of the office. The music rings in my ears as I hit the VIP floor.

  I spot a woman who is somewhat close to Emmy, but they aren’t good friends.

  “Boss,” Diana greets me as she slaps her hand over her heart.

  “The girl,” I snap harshly. “Where’s the girl you were talking to?”

  “Emmy?” she asks, brows raised. “She’s helping Caroline clean up.”

  There’s only one employee named Caroline. I know my employees, and the hiring manager chooses people with charisma. That is the essential quality for retaining clients. We can always teach them job skills, and employees learn through experience.

  This club is a business, first and foremost.

  Indulging clients with their every whim and creating an escapade they love comes from that philosophy.

  “That way,” Diana says, helpfully pointing to one of the VIP rooms.

  Boisterous laughter echoes as tipsy patrons sway in and out of the rooms. Sparkling party lights flash in the hallway as a chorus of off-key singing reaches me.

  I briefly nod at Diana, recalling that a group of basketball stars booked the VIP rooms.

  Emmy isn’t in any of the rooms; I only see inebriated patrons trying to sing along with the music.

  Turning the corner, I find the woman Emmy is supposedly helping. But the woman is just leaning against the wall and examining her fingernails.

  My Emmy is nowhere around. I will deal with her later, but this woman is testing my patience by overstepping her boundaries.

  She is not better than any other employee. I hire her to work, not stand around trying to look pretty.

  No one is on par with my little girl.

  “Are your hands useless?” I demand harshly.

  She gives a startled squawk, stumbles forward, and spins around. Panic is all over the twisted features of her face.

  “Mr. Vasari!” she screeches. “I was just—”

  Emmy has a way of making my name sound incredible with her sweet voice. However, this woman’s voice is tone-deaf wailing.

  “You’re fired.” I look over her head and scan the rest of the hall for Emmy.

  I ignore the outraged gasp from the woman as she attempts to explain her inability to work such long hours.

  Employees know my policy on incompetence when they accept the job. The hiring manager has a list of things he needs to tell potential employees; that is one of them.

  I rarely give second chances unless the mistake was one they can learn to avoid in the future. Laziness is not one of them.

  I have an idea of what this woman has done, but part of me wants to give her the benefit of the doubt for Emmy’s sake.

  “Why weren’t you working?” I coldly ask as I regard the shaking woman. “I hire you to serve drinks, not to be an inadequate statue.”

  “I was!” she exclaims hastily as her heavy lashes touch her eyebrows. “Someone made me spill a drink, and I was getting a rash from the cocktail.”

  “Look!” Caroline cries, thrusting her arm out.

  Her rash is practically non-existent; it would take a microscope to see the inflamed skin.

  I still can’t find a spark of sympathy as I say, “There are restrooms, there are gloves, and there are ointments in the break room. There is, however, no excuse for standing here and being incompetent.”

  I’m stern but fair. The woman knew the rules and chose to break one.

  “You’re right,” Emmy says as she steps out from one of the rooms. “That drink was pungent; my eyes are burning.”

  Any civility or potential for leniency is now gone.

  This woman decided she was above cleaning a spilled drink and let my little girl do it instead.

  Unacceptable.

  “Emmy!” the woman shouts as if she’s looking at her savior. “I was cleaning up, right? Then I got a rash, and you offered to help, right?”

  Emmy blinks and stops wiping her hands on the stained white towel. Choking up at my appearance, she gives me a stiff nod of her head.

  “Yeah,” she mumbles while moving hesitantly towards us. “Is something wrong?”

  “Your shift ended thirty minutes ago,” I indifferently point out.

&nb
sp; Emmy nods again, but slower this time. She’s confused as her eyes dart from the frantic woman to me. Her shy gaze doesn’t linger long as her soft cheeks flush enticingly.

  “What are you still doing here?”

  The woman attempts to get my attention, but I glare back to silence her. Her painted lips are pinched shut as she drops her head. The woman’s behavior makes Emmy even more bewildered as she wipes her hands one last time.

  “I was just helping Caroline, Mr. Vasari,” she says, oblivious to my irritation.

  When will she learn to say “no”?

  “I didn’t hire you to do two jobs,” I snap harshly, my anger intended for the other woman.

  Emmy’s hands are more important than the woman’s life. Frankly, the woman is expendable.

  I have made up my mind; I will not forgive her for letting my little girl clean up her mess.

  “It won’t happen again!” the woman shouts resolutely. “Please don’t fire me!”

  Emmy gasps as her eyes meet mine. I hold her gaze, challenging her to stand up to me and defend the woman who is wasting our time.

  Her pink lips tremble before closing tightly.

  “My office now.” I direct a scowl at Emmy and stalk towards the stairs to my office.

  Emmy’s shoes tap lightly on the floor as she hurries after me. The heat from her inquisitive stare forces my back muscles to coil tightly.

  I yank the office door open and motion for her to step inside. She skittishly walks in as her hands twist the stained towel. I take it from her and toss the fabric into the trash.

  Whatever that spilled cocktail was, her knuckles had gotten stained while she was cleaning it up.

  She continues to rub the knuckles raw, redness spreading across the joints of her fingers.

  I offer her some towelettes from my drawer, and she rubs the unscented tissues over her knuckles.

  I didn’t bring Emmy to my office so she can clean her hands. We’re here to address things that are still confusing to her; I don’t like it when we are not on the same page.

  She’s my employee, and I’m her boss. I have just decided to blur that line.

  I should’ve done it sooner, so I wouldn’t torture myself by not being able to touch her.

  I can’t come up with a reason why I held off for so long. Logically, it was partly due to her age. She’s far too young for a dirty older man. But realistically, it has taken all of my willpower not to throw her across my lap.

  She speaks before I have pulled myself together. “Am I fired?”

  Where did she get that idea? I’ll only “fire” her after we agree that I will financially support her if she doesn’t want to work anymore.

  “No.”

  Emmy awkwardly clears her throat. “Are you firing Caroline?”

  I don’t want to talk about that woman anymore.

  The issue I had with her has been resolved and takes effect immediately. I will let my staff know about the change as soon as I get my little girl’s ass home.

  I have her working the first shift for a reason. She needs sleep, and I will not allow her to go home at four in the morning after the nightclub closes.

  “She’s already terminated,” I say for her peace of mind.

  Emmy puts her weight on the other leg as discomfort shows on her pretty face. I must train her to speak her mind freely. I won’t know what she wants if she doesn’t tell me, and I can’t satisfy her needs without her consent.

  I am barbaric, but I have integrity. Warped though it may be, it’s better than nothing.

  Emmy should be very grateful that I’m capable of having some sympathy for her.

  I grumble curtly, “If you have questions, ask.”

  I won’t bite hard; I want to say.

  I have already planned where I want my teeth to sink into her skin. Her neck is the obvious first choice, her luscious tits are next in line, her waist will follow, and the last place will be her inner thighs.

  I know I will lose control and eat her little virgin pussy as soon as I get a whiff of her. Biting her thighs will be the only way I can control myself. Otherwise, I would bury my face in her sweet cunt.

  “Why did you fire her?” she whispers cautiously. “Is it because of me?”

  Everything I do is in response to her actions. She is the one who makes me inappropriately obsessed with her.

  I would never go this far if she were just another name on the list of employees.

  “It is, isn’t it?” She wheezes behind her small hand. “Please don’t fire her. I offered; she didn’t ask.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” I reckon unsympathetically. “Whether you would’ve declined or not, the outcome would still be the same.”

  “What?” she retorts in confusion. “What do you mean? I could have said ‘no’ instead of saying ‘yes.’”

  “Remember what I said, little girl?” I question vaguely.

  She chews on her wet bottom lip. “You don’t like liars.”

  “You’ve lied to me for the second time.” I click my tongue in discontent.

  What should I do?

  Do I need to spank her perky ass to get my point across?

  No, not now. Her guard would come up faster than I can react. I want to break down her defenses and rid her of the fear.

  I’m the last person she should fear. I will spoil her rotten and keep her as my princess.

  She might be reluctant at first, but she will ultimately embrace my obsessive craving for her undivided attention.

  “What will it take for you to rehire Caroline?” she asks, hopefulness shining in her eyes.

  I want to bask in the attention. It would be cruel to crush that fragile flicker of light in her eyes.

  The things I want from her are vastly different than what she’s thinking. The temptation to exert power over her is strong and insistent as I take a step forward.

  Her chest shudders as she instinctively steps back. She is right to be wary of me; I might end up eating her before the morning comes.

  It is best to wait, though.

  She’s a good girl, but I want to fuck her when she’s my good girl.

  “Nothing,” I say. “Nothing will change my mind.”

  “It’s not her fault,” Emmy tries again. “She wasn’t slacking off. She was hurt.”

  “You could’ve gotten hurt,” I counter tersely. “I don’t give second chances.”

  “You do,” she corrects instantly. “You gave me one.”

  “You’re special,” I say without a moment’s hesitation.

  Her face glows as she stammers frantically. She twists her fingers anxiously with the stained wipes scrunched between her palms.

  “You will not lie to me a third time,” I command rather ruthlessly.

  I cup her jaw, brushing against the faint bruises where I marked her earlier. The soft strokes are enough warning to get her to comply as she nods.

  Her big eyes stare at me with delightful apprehension.

  “I’m taking you home,” I offer as I reluctantly release her.

  I usually have one of the bouncers follow her home when I’m busy. I trust them more than I have faith in her ability to defend herself.

  “Home?” she squeaks bashfully.

  I chide with flaring desire, “Not mine; that comes later.”

  She blushes prettily.

  Chapter Three

  Emmy

  I’ve been avoiding Mr. Vasari, but not very successfully.

  Knowing he has cameras everywhere; I can almost feel his eyes burning my scalp as I work.

  It’s worse when I work on the dance floor. No matter how hard I try to blend in with the crowd, he finds me in a matter of minutes.

  I don’t know how the gossip started, but the rumors about me are running wild.

  He’s driven me home the last couple of nights and doesn’t leave until I’m in the lobby of my building.

  Diana must have noticed the change in my schedule. It’s hard to miss since he always makes
his presence known.

  His time is valuable, and I can’t make him waste it. So, I have trained myself to seek him out when I’m near the end of my shift.

  I like his attention. It feels fantastic to get this treatment, but I’m worried about changes at the club.

  The women at work are catty and snide remarks are common around here. Women can be vicious to each other privately but then pretend to be friends in front of other people.

  I don’t want to be at the center of their childish antics. I just want to earn enough money to help my family. The smallest mistake could potentially make me lose those bonuses in my paychecks.

  I have seen how strict Mr. Vasari can be. He fired Caroline, and word spread like wildfire.

  Somehow, just driving me home has turned into people thinking I am sleeping with him.

  “I hate to ask,” Diana quips playfully with a smirk.

  “Please don’t,” I retort as I groan under my breath. “The rumors aren’t true. I’m not sleeping with him.”

  She rolls her eyes as she set the drinks on her tray. “Why is he taking you home if you’re not being dicked down?”

  I convince myself the heat on my cheeks is from the flashing lights on the dance floor. I quickly put the other drinks in my tray and throw a weak scowl at Diana’s cheeky grin.

  “He offered me a ride home,” I say over the booming music.

  The truth is he demanded that I get in his sleek black car.

  I’m just an insignificant employee, and he’s the big boss. I don’t want to offend him by giving the impression that I think he’s a creep.

  He’s not. It’s just the implications of an older man giving a young woman a ride home every night.

  “He just drops me off in front of my building. He never even gets out of the car,” I emphasize with a frown when Diana laughs.

  “That’s not gentlemanly!” She lifts the tray as the drinks swirl in their glasses.

  I follow her as she leaves the packed bar. The bouncer steps aside to let us climb to the second floor.

  I haven’t seen Mr. Vasari tonight, but it’s normal for him to spend a lot of time in his office. He meets big-shot clients every night, and most of them are very happy when they leave the club.