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“Yes. You’re into Jett. Why the hell haven’t you done anything about it?”

“Excuse me?”

Mary-Sue threw her hands up. “You’ve never asked him out. He’s been working here three years, has liked you since he started, but you never hinted you were interested. Always so mysterious, only coming in once a week, never telling us what else you do, or where you go. We just assumed you’d got a partner, were married or something.”

Aaron pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m not married.”

“Good, that’s good. Not married, and you’re into Jett.”

“Can you stop saying that?”

“Sorry.”

“I think it’s time you go downstairs.”

“Yes, Boss.”

Mary-Sue shimmied out of her gown, revealing the underwear she’d picked out of her selection. The gold material shimmered, and she’d covered her chest with glitter and body paint, matching her huge sparkling eyelashes. Her black hair was scraped back in a high bun on the top of her hair showing off her slender neck.

“Did I make the right choice?”

“You look great. I would say knock ‘em dead, but that would be bad for business.”

Mary-Sue laughed, then strutted over to the door. She paused, clicked her nails on the wood, then turned back to Aaron.

“Tell him, tell him before it’s too late.”

She closed the door softly, and Aaron released a long, slow sigh. Something caught his eye on the bookcase, and he moved towards it. The words Night Club of the Year were etched into glass. The Junction had won for three consecutive years. Beside it there was another award, Barman of the Year with Jett’s name on. There were awards for best live music, best live performance, most entertaining theme night. Each time Jett showed him an award, Aaron had congratulated him, told him well done, but hadn’t gone any deeper, hadn’t made Jett realize how grateful he was to have him at the helm of his club.

Aaron dragged his gaze along the photographs. Jett and his team that ran The Junction, all grinning, arms thrown around each other as they posed together on some team-building trip Jett had arranged. He remembered Jett’s disappointed face when Aaron told him he wouldn’t be going, the hint of sadness in his big blue eyes.

“Shit.”

Jett’s world was a million miles away from Aaron’s. It was not like he could do a team-building, not like he could pose for photos with the guys that worked for him. Aaron wasn’t even sure if a few of them were even capable of smiling. They worked in the shadows, in the grubby places people preferred not to look. There were no trophies, or awards, or plaques for them, just money, so much money he didn’t even know what to do to with it most of the time. He’d bought a stupidly huge mansion for himself, but only spent time in the bedroom, the bathroom, and the kitchen. Someone else could’ve been living in the house, and he wouldn’t have known it.

“Marlon Steel,” Aaron whispered. Then he yanked his phone from his inside pocket.

He pressed it to his ear and tapped his foot on the floor as he waited for it to connect.

“Boss?”

“Ethan, I need you to do some digging for me.”

“Who on?”

“Marlon Steel.”

“The movie star?”

Aaron paused. He heard the wonder and the surprise in Ethan’s voice, and he didn’t like it. Somehow Marlon Steel had penetrated the underworld; somehow, he’d gotten some loyalty from his men.

“You know him?”

“He’s in that fantasy series. It’s really good. It’s been voted the best—”

“TV series of all time, yeah, I heard. I need you to find some dirt on him.”

“I can try…”