Total pages in book: 41
Estimated words: 37645 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 188(@200wpm)___ 151(@250wpm)___ 125(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 37645 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 188(@200wpm)___ 151(@250wpm)___ 125(@300wpm)
I try to channel my inner actress. “Welcome to The Sterling Rope, what can I—?”
The woman gives me her order, slow and smirking, her eyes never leaving my legs. The man ignores me, scrolling his phone like he’d rather be somewhere else. I get their drinks, hustle back to the bar, and when I return, latex-lady is already pawing at my skirt under the table. She lets go, smiling, as I set down the martini. “Nice touch,” she purrs, and I’m not sure if she means the skirt, my service, or the fact I didn’t drop the glass.
I try to smile. “Enjoy your evening.”
On my way back, my eyes collide with the security guy’s.
He is something else. Six-five at least, tight black shirt, green eyes so sharp I feel moving along my body. He’s got the posture of a drill sergeant with enough muscle to make my knees weak. He’s not just watching the room. He’s measuring it, memorizing it, judging everyone in it, all while watching me intently.
He stalks the perimeter, moving like he’s in control of everything, and every time I look up, he’s there. Not in a creepy way, more like a “I can’t help it,” way.
I make it through my second table with minimal disaster. There’s one spilled olive but luckily no casualties. When I turn to check the clock, the security guy is watching me from the landing. I catch his eyes, and this time I don’t look away. We stare for a beat too long. I feel my pulse pounding in my neck as he nods, barely, and I swear there’s a flicker of a smile at the corner of his mouth before he turns back to the hidden monitors.
I almost drop my tray anyway.
My next order is for the big table in the corner. Three men, two women, all dressed like they’re at a company event. One of the men gestures for me to come closer, leans in, and whispers, “Is it your first night?” I freeze and somehow manage to nod.
“Don’t worry,” he says, winking. “Everyone gets nervous the first time.” His hand brushes my hip as I step back, and I want to stomp his foot and ruin his fancy shoe until he backs the hell up.
I give a tight smile and step back. “I’ll be right back with your order.” As I turn, I see the security guy again. He’s staring at the big table with glittering eyes. The man who just grabbed me catches the look, and for a split second there’s a silent communication. The man drops his eyes to the table and swallows. The security guy holds my gaze for a second, just long enough to make sure I’m okay.
He’s not just watching. He’s watching out for me.
For the rest of the shift, it’s like we’re orbiting each other, never closer than a few feet but always aware. Sometimes I catch him in the mirrors. Sometimes I get a slight whiff of his spicy cologne as he passes. Each time it happens, my heart goes double speed. Damn. At this rate, I’m not going to survive my first night at The Sterling Rope.
A little after midnight, I slip into the break room for a second to breathe. The atmosphere of the club is stimulating my ADHD a little too much for my liking. I can hear two other servers trading gossip by the coffee machine.
“Did you see the new security guy?” one whispers. “He looks so fucking yummy.”
“I’d take a bite of him,” the other says and I barely resist the urge to cut in and tell them to keep their eyes and hands off my security guy.
When I go back out, the club is peaking. The private rooms hum with activity, and in the main lounge, people are flirting, drinking, doing all the things that will lead to a night to remember. I go through my tables like a robot as the security guy hovers in my peripheral vision, monitoring everything going on.
At one point, I duck behind the bar to grab more napkins, and he’s leaning in to talk to the bartender. The bartender laughs at something he says, then jerks his chin in my direction. Security Guy turns, spots me, and I see the exact moment his pupils go wide. For a second, he looks ready to say something, but he just nods, all business. As I stand he winks and walks away and I suddenly know I’m in so much trouble here.
By one-thirty, the crowd is thinning out. People drift toward the exit or the coat check, a few head off to the VIP rooms. I gather empties, wipe tables, and count down the seconds to closing. The Security Guy disappears for a while. When he comes back, he’s buttoned up in a jacket and carrying a clipboard.