by Dukey, Ker
I wait for him to leave the room before I pick up his phone and watch the video.
Dark hair falls around small shoulders, colors of purple and blue mixed into the brown strands. Heavy, dark makeup around her eyes masks her natural beauty. Those eyes—the color of sapphires, though—shine through the dark bar and pierce the veil of the camera screen.
There’s no hum of chatter from the crowded bar as the intro music plays, which is unusual. It’s hard to get the attention of everyone in a room, especially one filled with intoxicated people. But she has it. She holds them all in the palm of her hand.
She looks nervous, jittery even. Her eyes close and then her mouth opens.
Velvet tones resonate from the phone, making my dick harden.
There’s a gravelly edge to her low notes that not a lot of female singers possess.
She’s good. Really fucking good. With the right look and the proper marketing, she could be something special.
The door opens, and Ren saunters back in, holding his hand out for his phone.
“Well?”
“Leave the address for the club on your way out.” I wave him off and go back to the computer, but I’m not concentrating on the numbers on the screen. No, I’m consumed with little Sofina’s image playing through my mind on repeat.
“Stock the fridge, clean the tables, and sweep the damn floor. Your college degree is going to waste and a dream to be a singer fading with every passing night,” Rosy snaps, taking the bottles from my hand and stacking them in the fridge for me. “I don’t know why you’re still here. I thought the whole point of you going to college was so you weren’t stuck here wasting your talents.”
Rosy is the best damn bartender we have, but she’s pushing forty, and recently found out she’s pregnant, so she’s decided to hang up her drink slinging days.
Fifteen years she’s worked here. Hired by my father.
It’s going to be tough when she leaves us. My brother is already freaking out about her replacement. Rosy is well liked and dependable. She’s also a constant in our lives, which we tend not to have many of these days.
“The idea was that I use my degree for the business,” I remind her with a sigh, leaning my butt against the bar, hating the thought of still being here when I’m forty.
She squats to pull out a crate of clean glasses from a bottom shelf.
“Rosy, please let me do it. You should be resting, not me.”
Scoffing, she looks over her shoulder at me and rolls her eyes. “I’ll be doing enough resting when I leave here. Why don’t you go and warm up your pipes for later? Your brother isn’t in for another hour.”
My stomach jumps with the thought of having an hour with the mic before Lucca arrives, but the place still needs the tables wiped down.
“I should clean the tables,” I utter, nibbling at my lip and wanting so bad to rebel. To do what I want for once.
“Sof, you’re not Cinderella,” she grumbles. “Your papa wouldn’t have wanted you working in this damn bar. Hollie will be in soon, so she can clean tables. Now go make everyone happy and treat us to a song.”
Looking around the bar, I notice there are only a handful of day drinkers occupying a couple of booths. The DJ isn’t due in for another two hours and the equipment for open mic night is all set up and sitting there.
“Okay,” I agree, grinning, before skipping happily over to the stage.
Standing on the small stage gives me a rush like nothing else. The nerves trickle through me every time my palms wrap around the mic, but as soon as my mouth opens to sing, everything fades. It’s just the lyrics and me.
The bar disappears from view as my eyes close and I give myself over to the sound of my voice. Words flow, and my hips sway. I pull in all my stomach muscles and draw air into my lungs to hit the high notes. Suddenly, it’s over, and the mic cuts out before I can finish.
My eyes spring open to find the intense blue eyes of my brother glaring up at me from the dance floor below.
Crap.
Disappointment blankets me and my stomach drops from the look of anger and spite on his features.
“What the fuck are you doing? You know tonight’s one of our busiest nights, and the tables need to be cleared.” He fumes, the tattoos chasing up his neck coming to life with his anger.
“I just—”
“Just what? Just fucking around as usual. Get the tables cleared and then get behind the bar,” he orders, storming off toward the bar.
I hate that he treats me like a child and runs my damn life.
He raised me when our father died unexpectedly of liver failure when I was fifteen, and he was only twenty-one.
He gave up school and his future to keep me from being put into foster care and took over the Ritz Russo’s bar to stop Dad’s legacy—this place—from going under. He blames me in a way for what he had to give up. He would never admit it, but I feel it in his tone—in his stares.
He’s bitter…I can taste it.
Offering me a sad smile, Rosy places the cleaner and cloth on the bar for me to grab.
Fuck my life.
“I hate you!” I huff to my brother.
If he’s going to treat me like a child, then I’ll act like one.
“Yeah, remind me of that when you’re sleeping under my roof tonight with a full belly from my stocked fridge,” he spits out.
Placing my hands on my hips, I glower at him. “I pay my way, Lucca. You make me pay it.”
“Nothing comes for free, Sofina,” he grinds out, fixing a spirit bottle in place. “Dreams don’t pay the bills.”
Whatever. How the hell would he know?
Grabbing the cloth and spray, I stomp over to the first table and clean it even though it’s already clean.
The bar music suddenly booms from the speakers, making me growl under my breath.
I could be the entertainment for this place if he weren’t so damn uptight and a slave driver.
My feet carry me to the next table, but I stop short when I notice a pair of sleek men’s dress shoes beneath it. I follow the pressed slacks up the man’s long legs, my heart pounding wildly and free in my chest.
A solid torso is hidden beneath a slim-fitting suit jacket, expensive fabric in a vibrant, dark blue shade. Shirt and tie are bringing the whole show together in a well-packaged offering. But it’s not the best part. Oh no, that face needs no help being noticed.
Hot damn.
A chiseled jawline lays the foundation for one beautiful face.
Glowing tanned skin, thick full lips, straight nose, and large mesmerizing dark eyes are welcoming me in. Topped off with a short dark haircut giving a no bullshit vibe.
I notice a pricey looking watch sitting on his wrist, twinkling under the low light, as he plays with a business card in his hand.
He has whiskey on the rocks, melting in a glass in front of him, but I still find myself asking, “Can I get you something?”
My pussy clenches when his tongue swipes out to wet his lips and his dark brown eyes dance with humor. He knows the effect he must have on women.
What the hell brought such a man to this bar?
Lifting his hand, he offers me the card. It’s textured and has a masculine scent to it. Interesting.
I read the bold embossed letters.
Ronan Hayes, CEO of Harose Records
I turn it over to see phone numbers and an address.
My hand begins to shake as I look it over and then back at him. “Is this a joke?”
“I don’t play games,” his deep, baritone voice rumbles. “I want to hear you sing without the interruption.”
His eyes hold mine with such intensity my lip trembles. It’s almost intimidating being in his mere presence, yet I don’t exactly want to leave it.
“Sofina!” Lucca barks, making me startle as embarrassment heats my flesh.
Mr. Hayes’ eyes cut to my brother’s and flare with something I can’t identify, before coming back to mine and darkening.
Picking up his glass, he downs the contents, breaking an ice cube between his teeth as he does.
“The whiskey you serve here is weak. It lets this establishment down. Speak to the boss about improving his inventory.” His words sound demanding.
Fidgeting, I shrug. “He’s my brother, and he won’t listen to me.”
“Make him listen,” he rumbles. “If you don’t use your voice to be heard, what’s the point in having one?”
“I…uh…”
“Are you going to sing for me, Sofina?” My name slips through his lips like silk on bare skin.
“When?” I squeak out, flustered and feeling a stirring so potent in my stomach it’s making me dizzy.
“How often does opportunity come knocking?” he croons in a confident, rich tone. “Soon, Sofina. Very soon. Don’t make me wait.”
Damn, I’ve never been so enthralled by a man before, and I don’t even know him.
“Sofina?” Lucca growls, coming up behind me. “Everything okay here?” My brother dominates my space and uses his take no shit voice to speak to Mr. Hayes.
“I was telling Sofina how authentic and beautiful her voice is,” Mr. Hayes replies, making my entire bloodstream spike with adrenaline.
“Listen, pal,” Lucca snarls. “She’s not paid to entertain by the table. It’s a bar, not a strip joint.”
Shit, he’s so fucking hostile all the time.
A throaty laugh barks from Mr. Hayes.
“It’s certainly not. Strip joints have better whiskey,” he quips, making my brother aware that he doesn’t take bullshit from the likes of him.
Rising to his feet, a gasp almost slips past my lips from the sheer size of him dwarfing me. Slipping his hand into his pocket, he pulls out a money clip and drops a hundred-dollar bill on the table.
“For the brief, but satisfying entertainment,” he says, smirking.
And then he’s gone.
Dammit.
I turn on my heel to face my brother, fury pounding in my heart like a war drum.
“Do you know who the hell that was?” I screech, overcome with anger.
“An arrogant prick,” he snorts, walking away from me.
“Lucca,” I bark out, chasing after him. “That was Ronan Hayes from Harose Records. The fucking CEO of the Harose record label was here in your bar.”
“Our bar and so?” he scoffs, like it’s not the most incredible thing to ever happen to me.
“So?! So, that’s insane. The odds of that happening are—”
“Are what? Because I don’t see the big deal. He was an asshole.”
“No, Lucca, you were the asshole. You can’t treat paying customers like shit,” I bark, following him across the bar.
“He was interested in your tits, Sof, not your vocal cords.”
“They are nice tits.” Hollie winks over at me, slipping off her jacket. Her arms are decorated in an array of colored tattoos. Pink mermaid hair is gathered down her back in a loose braid and the sides of her head are shaved. Her curvy figure is squeezed into a leather skirt and a tight tee ripped up the sides and across the chest. Pink Doc Martens finishes the ensemble. I wish I had her confidence.
“Can you stop fucking hitting on my baby sister?” Lucca demands scornfully. “I have enough of it from the customers.”
“She’s cute, Lucca,” Hollie says with a sweet grin. “It’s going to happen, so best get used to it.”
“Why do you always focus on anything but my singing? Why do you assume he didn’t simply like my sound?” I bring him back to what’s important.
Folding his arms over his chest, he stops fucking around behind the bar to look at me for a second.
“He wasn’t here long enough to hear your sound, Sof.” His tone softens slightly. “I’m sorry, sis, but do you know how many fucking singers that guy will see come through his doors? How many pretty, little dreamers like you there are?”
“Lucca, that’s enough,” Rosy chides. “She’s special, and the one person she needs to hear that from is you.”
Throwing his hand up in the air, he narrows his eyes on Rosy.
“She doesn’t need me filling her head with that shit when she has you doing it for me. It won’t lead anywhere but disappointment. She needs to live in the real world, not this fantasy one in her damn head.”
“Fuck you, Lucca, I’m taking my break,” I snap, throwing the cloth at him and placing the cleaner down on the bar.
“Where the fuck are you going?”
“Out,” I snap.
So I’m a dreamer. I’d rather be that than a bitter bastard.
Sofina was so much more in the flesh than I expected her to be. The video Ren took of her didn’t do her justice.
My mind conjures up the thoughts of her. Her petite and tight body has the perfect amount of curves and meat to make any man want to take a bite. Plump lips, juicy and seductive, draw you in and hold you hostage to the thoughts of what you want her to do with them.
Her expression of passion when she loses herself to the lyrics is intoxicating to watch.
My thoughts drift to her eyes, expressive and bright blue, curious and pure, exploring my face when she came over to my table.
I’d been sitting there all of fifteen minutes, but I knew from the first second of seeing her, I had to have her.
“Do you see what I mean?” Starla pouts, pointing to a page in her booklet that she created as part of her final course work for her class.
“The formatting is wrong,” I say with a nod.
She wriggles in my lap and nuzzles her face against my chest. “Yes, and he won’t fix it for me. He said it’s what I asked for.”
Taking the book from her, I close it and place it on my desk, allowing her the comfort she seeks. Starla and I have an understanding that’s soon coming to an end.
“I’ll have my people fix it for you,” I tell her, stroking her hair and kissing the top of her head.
“I’m going to miss you when I go back home,” she coos.
I hate that I’m distracted by thoughts of another woman with her in my lap. She deserves my attention when it’s our time together.
My phone line shrills, but before I can pick it up, my office door bursts open, shocking both Starla and me.
A wide-eyed Sofina tumbles inside, flustered and out of breath.
“I’m sorry. She wasn’t going to allow me in and I had to see you…” She stumbles over her words before her eyes take in Starla on my lap. “Oh crap. Sorry, I…” She turns around like she caught us in a state of undress.
My secretary, Eve, appears a couple of seconds later with a thin-lipped scowl on her face.
“I’ve called security. I’m so sorry, Mr. Hayes. She wouldn’t listen when I told her she needs an appointment. I had no idea she was going to take off running, sir.”
Tapping Starla’s ass, urging her to stand, I nod to Eve. “It’s okay. Leave us.”
“Sir.” She nods.
“Starla, I’ll speak with you later. Be a good girl and close the door on your way out.”
Without a word, Starla leaves us, closing the door behind her.
“Sofina.” I say her name, demanding her attention without speaking the instruction.
She turns, her sheepish eyes scanning over my form.
“I blew it, right? I just needed to come and show you that I know opportunities like this come around once in a lifetime…”
Getting to my feet, I stalk over to where she stands babbling, and I hold a finger to her heavily painted mouth.
“Shhhh.”
Her gulp is audible, and a smile tilts my lips when she leans into my finger, pushing the flesh of her lips against the ridges there. It’s not my usual way of conducting business, but damn, this girl is special.
“What you did was very rude. Poor Eve isn’t built for chasing naughty little girls around,” I admonish playfully, despite the hunger to discipline her.
Her body vibrates. She’s ready to combust like a
wound up jack in a box. I bet she’s never had an orgasm that she hasn’t induced herself.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers. Her tongue purposely flicks out to taste my skin.
Fuck!
Hearing her apology and sensing her arousal is making me hard as stone.
I stroke my finger down her mouth as I move it away, making the bottom lip drag down and ping back into place as I do.
“I want to please you,” she breathes, heavy-lidded eyes looking up at me through thick over-painted lashes.
Well, fuck.
“With my singing,” she quickly adds.
I smirk, loving how flustered she is.
“So sing,” I tell her, moving away from her before I lose my control and punish her for bursting in here like a madwoman.
I grab a tissue and remove her lipstick from my finger.
“I didn’t prepare anything,” she utters, frowning.
“Well, you should have thought about that before bursting in here asking for a shot to please me.” I quirk a brow, folding my arms over my chest. I lean against my desk, crossing my feet at the ankle, watching what she’ll do next.
“Okay,” she says, nodding and shaking her arms out as she prepares herself. It’s fucking cute as hell. And then she begins belting out lyrics with no warm-up, hitting every note and transforming us from my office to an intimate concert for two.
She’s animated when she performs, but in the right way. Real, raw emotion. She believes in the words she’s singing—the story she’s telling her audience. She’s sensational and so beautiful to watch.
I’m lost to her when she finally speaks, breaking the spell she’s cast over me.
“Was that okay or should I do another?”
Striding over to her, I take her wrist and guide her over to my private bathroom. I wait for her to question me, but she doesn’t. Instead, she allows me to take her inside and face her toward the mirror with me at her back towering over her small body.
Turning on the faucet, I take a fresh towel and dip it under the water flow. Taking her chin between my forefinger and thumb, I wash her face, removing the makeup she doesn’t need. Her eyes never leave mine as she watches me through the mirror.