Jessica’s hand trembled as she placed it in his.
“Nice to meet you. Can I sit down?” He pointed at the other empty chair.
She nodded. Mack met Liv’s eyes as he rounded the table and gave her a small smile. “Liv told me a little about what happened,” he said quietly, sitting.
Jessica shot a betrayed glare in Liv’s direction.
“No one else knows,” he said reassuringly. “You can trust me.”
“Mack owns a whole bunch of nightclubs and bars in the area,” Liv said.
Mack dug a business card from his wallet and slid it across the table. “My main office is at Temple. It’s one of my nightclubs.”
Jessica nodded. “I know that one.”
“I also own several other smaller clubs.”
Jessica bit her lip. “What kind of jobs do you have?”
“I’ll make one up for you, if necessary.”
“You’d do that for me?” Her voice held the awestruck tone of a girl who’d just met a superhero. Liv sort of understood because, in that moment, she sort of felt the same.
“You can start today if you want. You never have to go back to Royce Preston.”
And just like that, the spell was broken. The utterance of Royce’s name seemed to break something inside her. Jessica shook her head and shoved Mack’s card in her pocket. “I need this job. The pay is better than anywhere else I can find, and the connections . . .”
“I know,” Liv said. “It’s the same reason I started working there too. You think your career is golden if you work for the great Royce Preston. But look at what it’s costing you. No job is worth that.”
Jessica’s lips pinched together in a tight line. “Or maybe you just want revenge. You want to use me to get back at him for firing you. He said you would try it.”
“Are you defending him right now?” At that, Mack reached over and squeezed Liv’s knee.
“Do you know what he could do to me?” Jessica fired back. “All I want is to be a chef, like you. He’ll ruin me.”
“Not if we ruin him first.”
“See? You just want to hurt him. I used to hear you talking in the kitchen. You hate Royce. You always have.”
“Trust me, Jessica. The easiest thing I could’ve done that night is walk away. I got absolutely nothing out of defending you.” Mack’s fingers dug into her knee. She glared at him, and he responded with a tiny shake of his head.
Jessica snapped her laptop shut. “I wish you had just walked away.” She hauled her backpack onto her lap and started shoving things inside.
Liv leaned toward her. “Jessica, he can’t be allowed to get away with this. Who knows how many other women he has done this to? Doesn’t that matter at all to you?”
“That’s not my problem.” She rose from her chair.
“Let us help you,” Mack said calmly.
“You want to help me?” Jessica slung her backpack over one shoulder. “Leave me the hell alone.”
“Jessica—” Liv said.
Mack squeezed her knee again. “Let her go. We can’t force her.”
Liv rubbed her eyes. “Now what?”
Mack stood. “Now I get you some barbecue.”
CHAPTER NINE
An hour later, Liv took out her frustrations on an unsuspecting pulled pork sandwich while sitting in Mack’s office. The thud-thud-thud of the base from the live band made her insides shake and her glass of lemonade ripple.
“I don’t get it,” she said, mouth full. “Why won’t she leave? What possible reason would someone have to want to let him get away with it?”
Mack dipped a fry in ketchup. “Fear is a powerful motivator.”
“But we’re giving her a way out. What’s there to be afraid of?”
“Until you’ve been in that position, you can’t possibly know.”
It was basically the same thing Rosie had told her, but Liv still didn’t buy it. “No,” she said, reaching for her lemonade. “Bullshit. You can’t tell me a woman would willingly stay in a situation like this for any reason.”
“Kind of judgmental, don’t you think?”
Liv reeled back. “Excuse me, but whose side are you on?”
“Yours. Which is why I’m going to be honest with you.” Mack wiped his mouth with a balled-up napkin. “You were a jerk back there.”
“I was not!”
“You basically blamed the victim.”
“Screw you. I did not.” But her brain betrayed her ego and started replaying her own words back to her. Who knows how many other women he has done this to? Doesn’t that matter at all to you? She sank into her seat. “I just don’t understand.”
“Not everyone is like you, Liv.”
She scrunched her eyebrows. “What does that mean?”
“Not everyone is willing or able to take on the world in a great big fight. It doesn’t make them weak or wrong.” A spark fired in his eyes, and he suddenly leaned forward on his elbows. “Did you know a woman will go back to an abusive relationship seven times on average before leaving for good?”
“Okay, first of all, I don’t know why you just happen to have that statistic in your back pocket. Second of all, we’re talking about sexual harassment, not domestic violence.”
“We’re talking about men in positions of power using their authority, whether it’s professional or personal, to manipulate through fear and intimidation. It’s the same damn thing. It’s all one big cultural continuum.” Mack threw his napkin onto his plate.
He was right. And she hated him for it. Maybe even more than she hated herself for being so ignorant. “Wow,” she snarked, because she was cranky at herself. “Did you learn all that in a romance novel?”
“Believe it or not,” he said, wadding up his trash, “I did. You should give them a try. I can recommend some books to get you started.”
“I’ll pass.”
He winked. “I’m a lot less messy than when I was sixteen.”
She fake gagged. “And to think I was actually starting to like you.”
“No reason to fight it, Liv. Everyone eventually gives in to the Mack charm.”
And now she was cranky because she was afraid he might be right.
He leaned back in his chair. “There is one silver lining in all this.”
“Which is?”
He flashed the magic Mack grin. “The longer this takes, the longer you get to partner up with me.”
Liv wrapped her hands loosely around her throat. “Kill me now.”
“You’ll see,” he said, standing. “By the time we’re through, you’re going to love me.”
Sonia poked her head in the office. “You’re wanted at the bar.”
Mack dropped his trash in the wastebasket. “What’s up?”
Sonia put her hand to her forehead and adopted a breezy tone. “Another lonely wife.”
Liv stood up. “Do I even want to know what this is about?”
“Mack has a superpower,” Sonia said, rolling her eyes.
“Convincing women to embrace celibacy?”
Sonia grinned at Mack. “I like her.”
Mack snorted. “Give it time.”
Liv flipped him off, and Sonia clutched her heart. “Dear God, we’re soul mates.”
Liv stretched a fist out, and Sonia bumped it with one of hers. Mack shook his head and muttered something that sounded like for fuck’s sake under his breath.
“Make any progress today?” Sonia asked.
Mack shook his head rapidly, and Liv’s mouth dropped open. “Did he tell you?”
“Yep.”
Mack groaned. “Dammit, Sonia.”
She shrugged. “I can’t lie. It breaks the girl code.”
“Are you kidding me?” Mack said. “She’s here all of ten minutes, and you already have a g
irl code?” He looked at Liv. “I didn’t tell her everything.”
“Your secret is safe with me,” Sonia told Liv.
Mack snorted. “I wouldn’t believe that if I were you.”
Liv laughed and then stopped herself.
Mack pointed. “I heard that.”
“You heard nothing.”
“You laughed at me.”
“Nope.”
“I told you. You’re going to end up loving me. Everyone does.”
Liv rolled her eyes. “It’s really sad how you need that kind of adoration.”
“It’s really sad how you pretend you don’t.”
Liv shrugged. “I’m not pretending. I hate people, and they hate me. It’s a perfectly healthy relationship.”
“That’s not a relationship. That’s an excuse. You’re just afraid people won’t like you, so you put on this act.”
“I’m sorry, is this coming from the guy who bought a thousand-dollar cupcake to impress a woman?”
“Yeah, until another woman walked in and screwed that up for me.”
“I had help dropping that cupcake, douchebag.”
“How long do I have to keep apologizing for that?”
“Keep going. I’ll tell you when it’s enough.”
Mack felt the weight of someone staring. He glanced up to find Sonia leaning in the doorway, watching them with way too much interest. “What?” he asked, irritated for no apparent reason.
She shrugged. “Are you coming to the bar or not?” Sonia prodded.
Against her better judgement, Liv followed.
* * *
* * *
Mack could spot an unhappy wife from a mile away.
Tight smile. Annoyed yet wistful gaze. Mournful stare at hands twisted in her lap. All while an oblivious husband stood just a few feet away, having the time of his life with his buddies, no idea that the woman he’d promised to love and cherish was one glass of wine away from walking away forever.
Christ, men were stupid.
She sat at the far end of the bar, alone, looking over her shoulder every couple of minutes to a group of men at a nearby table who were working on their fourth pitcher of beer.
Mack caught the bartender’s eye and nodded toward the woman. His bartender laughed at him and nodded. Yep, this one was all his.
Mack glanced back at Liv and smiled. “Watch and learn,” he said.
She flipped him off.
Mack wandered to where the woman stood, leaned on the bar in front of her, and graced her with one of the smiles his mother used to warn would get him into trouble. “Don’t tell me you came out tonight looking like that just to stand here all alone.”
The woman’s head swiveled toward him in surprise. Her cheeks grew pink. “What?”
Mack winked. “Ah, there she is. What’re you drinking?”
She looked at her empty glass. “Just water. I-I’m here with my husband,” she blurted.
“Well, where is he? And why isn’t he up here getting you a new water?”
She looked over her shoulder. “He’s with his coworkers.”
“He do this a lot?”
“Do what?”
“Take you out and then abandon you to hang out with his friends?”
She shrugged. That was a yes. What a fucking idiot. Men didn’t deserve the gift of women.
Mack picked up her glass. “It’s on the house. What can I get you?”
She shook her head. “I’m the designated driver.”
So not only did Mr. Asshole ignore his wife, he’d only dragged her along so he could drink to the point of unsafe driving. Nice. “Fair enough,” Mack said, filling a glass of water for her. “But I bet I can guess your favorite drink.”
A perfectly groomed eyebrow arched over suddenly interested eyes. “I doubt that.”
Mack studied her from the tips of her hair—balayage highlights, expensive—to her earrings—diamond studs. Then to the clutch purse next to her hands. Kate Spade. Top shelf, classy.
Classic.
“Manhattan?”
Her mouth fell open again with a startled laugh. “How did you know that?”
Mack shrugged. “It’s a gift.”
“That’s a weird gift to have.”
“Not in my job.” He looked at the table of men. “So point out which one is your husband.”
The woman’s face fell. “He’s the one standing up.”
Mack studied him. Closely cropped hair. Short-trimmed beard. Professional type. College educated and arrogant. “Let me guess,” Mack said, crossing his arms. “Works in finance?”
The woman laughed again. “Impressive.”
“What’re they drinking?”
She rolled her eyes. “He used to just like Budweiser, but now he’s into that IPA stuff. I can’t stand it.”
He winked. “Budweiser it is.”
Mack filled a pitcher, flagged down one of the waiters, and scribbled a note on a napkin for the tray.
Compliments of Braden Mack. Pay attention to your wife, asshole, or get the fuck out of my club.
His task accomplished, Mack returned to the other end of the bar, where Liv stood next to Sonia.
“And that,” he said, arms spread wide. “Is how it’s done.”
Liv sighed heavily and looked at Sonia. “How long have you worked with him?”
“Ten years.”
“And you haven’t killed him yet?”
Sonia rested her chin in her hands and grinned. “This is going to be so fucking fun.”
Mack might have agreed if Liv’s face hadn’t suddenly turned ashen. He stepped closer. “What’s wrong?”
“He’s here.”
Mack spun on his heel and followed the direction of her stare.
Royce. Mack reached behind him on instinct and wrapped his hand around Liv’s wrist.
“He knows we talked to Jessica,” she said.
“How the hell would he know that?”
“Maybe she told him. You heard what she said when she left.”
Mack’s fingers tightened on her wrist. “Go back to my office.”
She yanked out of his hold. “What? No fucking way.”
“Liv, please. Let me handle this. He hasn’t seen you yet.”
He wasn’t sure what convinced her, but Liv did what he asked. Rage turned his vision red as he watched Royce weave through the crowd, greeting fans with peace signs and high fives. He paused to snap a selfie with two women and then let each woman kiss his cheeks.
Mack tapped into his deepest willpower reserves to keep from launching into a full-fledged sprint and knocking the bastard’s ass to the ground. Instead, he slowly walked to the center of the bar, hands flexed into tight fists at his sides.
Royce approached with his TV-show smile. “Mack. Just the man I came to see.” He turned back to apologize to a couple of women who wanted a photo. “Sorry, ladies. Business calls.”
Right. Business. This unexpected visit had all the hallmarks of old-fashioned mob intimidation.
Royce reached across the bar. Their handshake was about as friendly as a pair of boxers squaring off before a fight.
Mack met Royce’s unnecessarily tight squeeze with equal pressure. “What brings you by?”
Royce dodged the question and leaned an elbow on the bar. He cast his gaze in a wide, judgmental circle. “Quite a place you’ve got here.”
“First time in?”
“Never had the pleasure before.” He dragged out the word pleasure just enough to convey the opposite. His gaze lingered on the dance floor, where a sea of cowboy hats bobbed and swayed in unison to a classic Brad Paisley song. His lips curled as if he’d just wandered into the unwashed masses.
Mack had never wanted to hit another human being so much in his entire l
ife.
Actually, that wasn’t true. He’d wanted to hit someone else a lot harder before, but Royce was quickly rising to a close second, and for many of the same reasons. Men who hurt women were the lowest creatures on Earth.
Mack forced his jaw to release its viselike clench. “Can I get you a drink?”
Royce swiveled again, turning that fake-ass smile back to Mack. “Sure.”
Mack gestured tightly to the wall of liquor bottles on the wall behind him. “What’s your poison?”
“Give me your house specialty.”
“That’d be a Snot Rocket.”
Royce’s lips thinned in revulsion. “A Snot Rocket?”
“Shot of Jim Beam with a raw egg chaser.”
“Classy.”
“I can dig out a wine cooler if you prefer.”
Royce lifted his hands. “Hey, I’m adventurous. Snot Rocket it is.”
The bartender, who’d been hovering nearby, grabbed the bottle of whiskey, but Mack waved him off. “I’ve got this one.”
“Making it extra special for the VIP?” Royce asked, not even a hint of self-deprecation in his tone. He really thought of himself as the VIP.
“You know it,” Mack said. He poured a hefty shot, set the glass in front of Royce, and then cracked an egg into the brown liquid. “I’m supposed to warn you that consuming raw egg products can be dangerous to your health.”
Royce turned a soft shade of green, but this was a battle of manhood. He swallowed once, lifted the glass, and shot it back.
“So,” Mack said, bracing his hands on the edge of the bar. “What brings you by?”
“Heard you—” Royce stopped and swallowed hard as he set down the glass. The egg must’ve been sliding back up. “Heard you’re hiring.”
“I am. You need an application?”
Royce adopted the TV-show smile. “Good one. You ever wonder how I got so successful?”
“Not really.”
A nerve twitched along Royce’s jaw. “I like you, Mack, which is why I’m going to give you a pass on a small breech of professional etiquette.”
Mack snorted. “You’re going to lecture me about professional etiquette?”
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