Distraction Read online

  “This shit’s getting ridiculous,” I mutter to the ceiling. The damn woman has shown up every night over the last two weeks. She gets here when the club opens and stays ‘til closing. She no longer asks people if they know her sister, but she does inspect drinks, and talks to the women at the bar about making sure they are being safe. She is driving me fucking crazy.

  “She’s kinda cute.” Lowering my head, I look at Teo and narrow my eyes, watching him raise his hands in front of him. “But she has a boyfriend,” he adds with a smile.

  “Who?” I ask without thinking.

  “Don’t know.” He shrugs, walking over to the window, looking down toward the bar.

  “Well, the guy is obviously a piece of shit if he lets his woman out of the house every night to come to a club alone,” I mutter under my breath.

  “What are you going to do about her?” he questions, turning to look at me.

  “Give her a job,” I half joke. She’s persistent as fuck, and if things keep going the way they have been, she’s going to end up causing trouble, and I don’t need anymore trouble. At least, that’s the lie I’m telling myself.

  “You do need a new assistant.”

  “Fuck no,” I snap, loosening my tie. The last assistant I had ended up being a clusterfuck. The woman was pissed that I wouldn’t fuck her. I finally had to fire her ass when she brought another woman up to my office and proceeded to try and get me to join them on my couch when I walked in on them half naked. Work is work. Yes, I might invite women up to fuck, but never anyone I work with.

  “It’s not like she’s your type,” he says, and I feel my jaw tick. “Besides, if she’s up here with you, she’ll stop harassing the women down there.” He nods toward where she’s sitting and my eyes follow the movement, seeing her talking to a girl who looks a little startled by whatever it is Maggie is telling her.

  “It’s not happening. You guys need to keep her out of the club,” I tell him, turning away from the window.

  “Just saying it would be a good way to keep an eye on her,” he gripes, patting my shoulder before leaving my office and closing the door behind him.

  Letting out a frustrated breath, I turn away from the window and try to focus on all the shit I need to get done.

  “Yeah,” I pick up my desk phone when it beeps and looking at the clock, seeing that an hour has passed since Teo left.

  “Look out your window,” Zack says, and I spin my chair around and scan the floor, wondering what he wants me to see. Then I spot Maggie with a man’s head tucked under her arm as she leads him toward the front of the club, with Lane and Zack following closely behind them.

  “What the fuck is going on?”

  “That guy tried to put something in some chick’s drink, and Maggie saw him and went postal on his ass,” he explains almost proudly.

  “Jesus Christ, what the fuck do I pay you for?” I gripe.

  “I saw the whole thing. I was getting ready to step in when she stood up on her barstool, jumped on the guy’s back, and then did some fucking ninja shit, wrapping her arm around the guy’s head and forcing him to his knees. She won’t let him go. She said she wants to ask him some questions.”

  “I’m on my way down,” I say, slamming down the phone and jerking open the door to my office, taking the stairs two at a time. Reaching the front of the club, I see Zack holding the guy and Lane’s arms wrapped around Maggie’s waist, trying to drag her away. What the fuck is going on?” I roar, and all eyes come to me except Maggie’s, who takes the opportunity to grab the man’s ear and twist, making him drop hard to the ground on his knees.

  “You think it’s funny to drug innocent women, you flaming turd bucket?” she yells, hitting the top of the guy’s bald head, and Zack chuckles along with Lane, but I don’t see one damn thing that’s funny about this shit.

  “Maggie, let him go and come here,” I growl, and she raises her eyes to meet mine, looking startled.

  “He—”

  “I said get your ass over here now!” I yell, cutting her off and feeling the vein in my neck bulge as I point to the ground at my feet.

  “Fine.” She pouts, letting the guy go, walking sullenly toward me as Zack pulls the man to his feet, taking him with him around the corner, with Lane following behind them with his phone to his ear. I’m sure they are going to have a talk and wait for the cops.

  “Let’s go,” I say, wrapping my hand around the back of her neck, leading her through the club and up the stairs to my office. Sitting her in the chair in front of my desk, I walk over to the cabinets where I keep my personal bottle of scotch and pull out the cap. I then lift the bottle to my lips, taking a swig while trying to calm down.

  “Alcohol isn’t good for you,” she informs me as I take a seat behind my desk.

  “Do I look like I give a fuck about that?” I ask her, taking another swig.

  “You might not care about what it can do to your body right now, but you may want to know that it lowers sperm count and stamina in the long run.”

  “Jesus.” I shake my head and rub my eyes in aggravation.

  “Just saying it’s not good for you,” she mutters, dropping her eyes to her lap.

  “What happened downstairs isn’t okay, Mags.”

  “Maggie,” she corrects, still not looking at me.

  “Whatever,” I drone, taking another swig. “You could have gotten hurt.”

  “I have a black belt—”

  “Look at me,” I demand, cutting her off and slamming the bottle down on the top of the desk, waiting for her eyes to meet mine. “You could have gotten hurt or worse. Do you understand that? He could have had a weapon on him.”

  “You don’t understand,” she whispers as tears fill her eyes, but I harden myself against them, needing her to understand this isn’t a fucking movie. This is real life, and there are bad—really fucking bad—people in this world.

  “You’re not allowed on the club floor anymore,” I state firmly.

  “I’m going to find the guys who hurt my sister,” she states, and I see the determination in her eyes that make me proud and pissed at the same time.

  “If you come, you come to my office, and if something happens down there”—I point to the club floor over my shoulder—“you’ll be the first to know.”

  “Why would I come to your office? I need to be at the bar where I can see what’s going on.”

  “You just got the job as my new assistant,” I tell her, watching her frown while wondering what the fuck I’m doing. This chick is a distraction I do not need right now, or ever for that matter.

  “I already have a job,” she says as her frown grows deeper.

  “Well, quit. You’re here every night, Mags, and you don’t leave ‘til the club closes at one. I can tell by the bags under your eyes that you’re exhausted.”

  “Why would you want me to work here?” Now, isn’t that the million dollar question?

  “Either take me up on my offer, or I’m going to have a restraining order placed against you and you won’t be allowed within a few hundred feet of the club.” I shrug like it’s all the same to me.

  “You know this is malarkey, right?” she stands and I take her in fully for the first time tonight. Her loose, sheer, black dress is cinched with a thin belt emphasizing the dip in her waist between her full hips and breasts. Her hair is down in a mass of messy waves, and her makeup is subtle but still draws attention to her eyes, which look even more golden now that she’s standing in front of me looking pissed off.

  “I’m not messing around with you anymore either. You take me up on my deal, or I’ll call the police and have them escort you off the premises,” I tell her, ignoring the fact I’m getting hard just looking at her.

  “This is total crap,” she mumbles, looking around before meeting my eyes again.

  “Take it or leave it.”

  “Jeez, can I have a second to think?” she cries, and I feel my lips twitch, so I rub my hand down over my mouth to hide it.
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  “Ten,” I state, watching her eyes narrow. “Nine…eight…seven…” I continue counting, watching as she looks at me like she’s ready to kill me. “Six,” I raise a brow. “Five…”

  “Fine!” she yells when I open my mouth to finish my countdown.

  “Thought so,” I say triumphantly.

  “You’re such a…you’re such a bigasterd,” she growls.

  “A what?” I ask, and I can’t help it, I laugh at that one.

  “When do I start?” she asks, ignoring my question while red spreads across her cheeks and down her neck.

  “Tomorrow. Be here at five, and I’ll show you around the club and tell you your responsibilities.”

  “Fine.”

  “Now, let’s go. I have shit to do,” I tell her, standing and putting on my suit jacket.

  “What?” she asks, backing up.

  “I’m taking you to your car,” I tell her, walking past her toward the door.

  “I can walk myself,” she says as her brows pull inward.

  “Yeah, and I know you are your own brand of chaos, so I can’t leave you alone in the club until we build up the trust between us.”

  “That is so…so stupid,” she mutters looking adorable.

  “Now,” I tell her, swinging the door open and motioning her out ahead of me.

  “Lint-licker,” she murmurs under her breath as she passes and then stomps down the stairs in front of me, giving me a view of her ass and legs that will be burned into my brain for years. Once we reach the club floor, I wrap my hand around the back of her neck, gaining a glare from her that I ignore as I lead her through the crowd.

  Passing Teo, who is manning the front door, I give him a chin lift, watching his eyes dart between Maggie and me.

  “You good?” I hear him ask, thinking he’s talking to me. I look at him like, Why the fuck are you asking that? Then I see his eyes are on Maggie.

  “Yeah, thanks, Teo. Have a good night,” she says softly, smiling at him, which pisses me off.

  “Where’s your car?” Her eyes fly to me, losing the softness instantly and she try’s to pull away.

  “Down two blocks. I can walk myself. We’re outside, so you don’t have to worry about me causing any problems.”

  “Come on.” I ignore her and take her hand, feeling the softness of it against my palm, and then tighten my fingers when she tries to pull away again.

  Walking the two blocks, I try to understand what’s going on in my head. I have never let a woman effect me, but this woman has done just that without even realizing it, and I have no idea what the hell I’m going to do about it.

  “This is my car,” she tells me, forcefully tugging her hand free of mine.

  Looking at the car, my anger comes back tenfold. The thing looks like I could pick it up and toss it with one hand tied behind my back. It sure as hell doesn’t look safe for anyone to drive, especially in this town.

  “What the hell is this?” I ask, watching her pull a key out of her bra—where I’m thinking she must keep everything, since the last time I was with her, that’s where her phone was.

  “It’s a car.” She rolls her eyes.

  “This is a death trap, Mags. One little bump in this piece of shit and you’re done,” I say, running a hand through my hair.

  “It’s Maggie, M-A-G-G-I-E, Sven, and it’s safe. Plus, it’s good for the environment.”

  “Yeah, because it kills people off, so there is one less person on Earth to fuck it up.”

  “You’re very dramatic and you curse a lot,” she says, pushing me back a step, getting in behind the wheel, and slamming the door. Once the car is on, she rolls down the window. “See you tomorrow, Boss.”

  “Drive carefully, and call the club when you get home,” I tell her, knowing she doesn’t have my cell number, which I’m going to have to fix tomorrow. Plus, I’ll get her a phone that isn’t from the dark ages and tell her it’s for work, because I know she won’t take it any other way.

  “Yeah, I’m not calling you, but I’ll see you tomorrow,” she retorts and then pulls out of the small space, narrowly missing a car that’s passing by. Letting out an annoyed sigh, I turn and walk back to the club, mumbling under my breath the whole way, asking myself what the fuck am I doing?

  Chapter 2

  Maggie

  Show Me the Money

  Looking at myself in my full-length mirror, I turn to the side and make sure I look okay. Since I’m working with Sven, who I’ve seen wear nothing but suits, I chose to wear my sheer black sleeveless dress shirt with a high collar that ties with a bow at my neck. My cream-colored high-waisted skirt fits snuggly against my curves leaving my legs bare, showcasing one of my favorite pairs of leopard-print heels that have a pointy toe and a thin, spiked heel.

  I left my long hair down except for my bangs, which I swept to the side and pinned back away from my face. I kept my makeup minimal, with just mascara and a little blush, not really in the mood to do a full face of makeup. Picking up my bag from my bed, I head into the living room where I find my sister, Morgan, sitting on the couch, watching TV. She has healed a lot over the last couple weeks, but she’s still carrying bruises that remind me of what could have happened, that I could have lost her.

  “Are you going to work?” she asks, pressing pause on the show she’s watching.

  “Yeah, there are leftovers in the fridge if you get hungry. I’m not sure what time I’ll be home, but if you need me, I have my cell on me,” I tell her as I pick up my car keys from the counter in the kitchen.

  “I can take care of myself,” she grumbles, picking up a bag of Cheetos from the coffee table.

  “I know,” I agree, not wanting to point out that she’s done a horrible job of taking care of herself so far.

  “I may go out tonight,” she says casually as she un-pauses the show she’s watching.

  “Where?” I ask while my tightly controlled facade slips.

  “I don’t know. Amy called and said I needed to get out of the house, and I agreed with her.”

  I hate my sister’s best friend. I’ve never trusted her, and anytime Morgan has gotten in trouble, Amy has been involved in one way or another. “You still have bruises from the last time you went out with her,” I point out hoping she will see for herself the kind of friend Amy really is.

  “It’s not fair for you to make what happened seem like Amy’s fault.”

  “Will you call and tell me where you’re going?” I ask, knowing it’s completely pointless to argue with her about her relationship with Amy. I don’t think she will ever see how being friends with her is affecting her.

  “I’ll call,” she says absently while shoving her hand into the bag of Cheetos on her lap and looking at the TV.

  “Love you,” I tell her, getting a nod in return before heading out the front door and down the stairs to my car.

  Walking into Sven’s office, I fight the instinct to turn around and run right back out when I see he’s on the phone. I have no idea what I was thinking agreeing to come work for him, but then again, my life has been a series of events just like this one.

  “Hold on, Mags,” he says, startling me.

  Pulling his phone away from his ear, he motions for me to take a seat in one of the two dark blue, velvet high-back chairs in front of his large oak desk. Rolling my eyes at him, I take a seat, watching the corner of his mouth lift before he covers it with his hand. I hate that he calls me Mags—or that’s what I’m telling myself, anyway. But then again, it’s better than the nickname my parents gave me at my spirit ceremony, when they called down the moon goddess while standing naked in the middle of a field on my tenth birthday. I think I’m still traumatized by that experience.

  Crossing one leg over the other I pull in a breath while I study him. Sven is gorgeous in a way that is completely unfair to the rest of the men on Earth. He’s tall enough that I could wear my six-inch heels and he would still tower over me. His body is lean, with just the right amount of muscle. His
dark blond hair is overgrown on top and little shorter on the sides, giving him an unkempt, sexy look. His eyes are a startling blue that look green when he’s angry, and the long, dark lashes that surround them make them appear that much more enticing.

  His nose is straight, his cheekbones are high, and his lips are full and are surrounded by a five o’clock shadow that takes his hotness up a few notches. He looks like he could be on the cover of GQ—hell, for all I know, he has been on the cover. The few nights I sat down at the bar, I heard women talk about him, and from what I gathered most of the female population of Vegas knows who he is. I swear every single leggy blonde, redhead, and brunette knew exactly who he was by name, and judging by the way they spoke about him, they probably screamed it a few times.

  “Nice of you to show up, Mags,” he says, pulling me out of my perusal and setting his phone on top of the desk. Sitting up a little taller, I narrow my eyes and watch as he walks around the desk toward me, unbuttoning his suit jacket and taking a seat on top of the wooden surface, leaning a little closer than necessary.

  “You said be here at five it’s five.” I hold up my hand when it looks like he’s going to say something else. “And we need to discuss my salary,” I state, uncrossing my legs then re-crossing them in the other direction, ignoring the way his eyes watch the movement and change color.

  “Salary?” He frowns, and I can’t help the smile that forms on my lips at the confusion on his face.

  “Yes, my salary. I mean, you didn’t actually think I was going to come work for you for free, did you?” I ask, raising my brow.

  “Of course not. I’ll start you off at thirty-five thousand—”

  “Yeah, that’s not going to work for me. At my old job, the one I just quit to come work for you, I made one hundred and seventy-five thousand a year, with four weeks paid vacation and one week sick pay,” I say, cutting him off. I actually make much more than that modeling, but he doesn’t need to know that.

  “Where the hell did you work?” he growls, making my girly parts tingle.

  Ignoring my body’s reaction to him, I wave my hand around in front of me and continue, “That doesn’t matter now, so since I’m just starting out here, I’ll take one hundred and fifty thousand, but I want the same for paid days off, including sick days.”