Page 89 of Obeying Mr Kingsley

“Surprise!”Emily announces, and I do a double take.

Around her stand Sebastian and five other large alpha men.Gorgeous, six-foot-four, broad-shouldered billionaires who know all the women in the bar are watching them.

Zander, Colt, Drew and...Mason.

Goddamn you, Emily.

If the earth could swallow me whole right now, that would be super great.I can’t believe she told him.

“Yes.I am surprised.”I give her the pointed friend look that promises I’m going to kick her ass later.“What are you all doing here?”

Mason doesn’t look like he wants to be here.

“Emily thought you’d love our support,” Colt drawls, the sarcasm rich in his tone.“I can see you are as thrilled as I said you’d be.”

“I told you,” Mason mutters.

“I told her, too,” Sebastian rubs his jaw.

“You were all just going to hang at Colt’s bar, so this way we help Lexi.Be nice.”Emily frowns at them.

“Amazing.”I avert my eyes then snap back just as quickly.“Wait, you have a bar?”

He grins.“Yes, and if you’d like a job—"

“No.”

We all turn to Mason after that singular word leaves his lips with immense force.

Whoa.

“Five Macallans and a water for Emily.”Mason tugs out his wallet, ignoring the response.

I turn back to Colt, who runs his tongue over his teeth like he’s holding back words.I have a feeling if I pushed, hewouldgive me a job.Then again, if Mason drinks there regularly, it’s unlikely to be a good idea.

“It’s a sex club.”Emily waves her hand.

“What?”I gasp.

“Like I said, you arenotworking there,” Mason repeats.

Holy hell.I had no idea he owned a sex club.I’m blinking as a thousand questions fill my mind.Zander and Drew are chuckling.

Terrance decides this is a good time to lean in and wave.“See you Wednesday, Lex.”

Mason slowly turns.

“Oh, hey, Mr.Kingsley.”

Terrance waves and disappears while Mason gives me a dark look that could make a grown man cry.

Fuck him.

It sounds like he has access to all kinds of women at Colt’s bar.He’s never mentioned it before, and I suspect he spends a lot of time there.Why else wouldn’t he want me working there?

I’m about to tell him we are out of Macallan and maybe he should fly in his fancy helicopter to Colt’s bar when a loud laugh has us all turning.

“Looks like those tits of yours are working well for you,” Mr.Maroon Sweater slurs.