Page 10

Chapter Ten

BLAKE

I half expected to toss and turn all night after what happened. I’m no longer a virgin. To be fair, I was only technically a virgin in the sense that I’d never had a real-life penis inside me. Kind of like a sexually active lesbian who’s never had sex with a man.

Just another reminder of how virginity is a manmade concept. Emphasis on the man.

I’d ended up sleeping so hard that Charlie was the one to shout through my bedroom door after my third alarm went off, apparently.

Rushing through getting ready for my first official day at The Place as the stage producer, I did my best to not think about what happened last night. Except every time I move, there’s a blush-inducing ache that vibrators never gave me.

Thankfully, I held it together. At least, until I opened my front door, Charlie on my heels, to be confronted with a vase of roses and baby’s breath and a large coffee from Black Death Beanery. “Mom?”

Charlie’s question snaps me back into motion and I scoop up the paper to-go cup and vase with a frown.

“Whoa, flowers? And coffee?”

I hum, passing her the coffee to hold while I grab the card inserted on the clear plastic holder. When I flip it open, the message is written in loopy handwriting.

Last night is forgiven. I can’t wait to watch you shine. Enjoy the coffee. I know it’s your favorite.

“Who’s it from?” Charlie asks, rising on her toes beside me to try to read over my shoulder. I snap the card closed and glare at the pre-teen. “Is it from your booooyfriend ?”

“He’s not my boyfriend!” The protest is automatic. I shove the card in my oversized purse and steal my coffee back before she can take a drink of it. “You’re still too young for coffee. Now, shoo, before you miss the bus.”

The strawberry blonde rolls her eyes with twelve-year-old sass but hikes her pink and white Converse backpack higher up on her shoulder and plods down the steps and out onto the sidewalk.

“Have a good day at school! Love you!” I call, and she doesn’t bother looking back as she raises a hand up to wave her response. Scrunching my lips, I wonder where my baby girl went who never left without a big hug and kiss. I know all the moms at The Gentlemen’s Study warned me that I’d miss those days, but damn, warnings are nothing compared to what it actually feels like when your kid starts stepping into their independence.

A notification lets me know about a text, and when I juggle the flowers and coffee, my eyes widen at the time on the screen. I whirl back inside to deposit the vase on the foyer table and hurry back out of the house, locking up before rushing down the short path to the sidewalk. I turn in the opposite direction than Charlie, power walking towards the bus stop as I pull up the group chat I’m in with Tonya and a few other ladies from the club.

Angela: Good luck today, babe! You’re gonna kill it!

Tonya: She doesn’t need luck! She’s gonna kill it. The club won’t be the same.

Tonya: So proud of you though, girl!

My life may have not taken the path I’d dreamt of as a kid, but I wouldn’t trade the friends I made for all the art museums in the world. Grinning, I take a sip of the still-hot coffee. The warm spices of the Aztec caramel latte are a delicious jolt to my senses. I pull the coffee away, studying it like it’ll explain how Malachi knows my coffee order. That’s not something the regular boss knows about their employees. Tonya knows my order, but I’ve also been working with her for over a decade.

And those flowers? What the heck is up with that? That handwriting is too feminine to be Malachi’s.

I tap out a quick response:

Thanks, ladies! I’ll let you know how the day goes. I’m not as nervous as I expected.

Thinking of the coffee and flowers, I add:

And something happened that I absolutely need a girls’ night to talk about.

Girl boss gifs and tea follow my reply, but the city bus that’ll take me into Topside is at the end of the street so I stash the phone and hustle to the stop just as it pulls up. It’s more packed than normal, so I’m stuck standing the entire commute.

The bus hits every single light, giving me more than enough time to start overthinking the flowers. How would Malachi know my coffee order but not that I’m not a fan of roses? I mean, they’re fine, but they’re just . . . so average. And why send the flowers in the first place? It’s not like he knew I was technically a virgin last night.

Oh, god, what if that’s what he meant by the note? Last night is forgiven? Did he think I’d lied to him somehow?

But, also, the hell? Indignation quickly replaces the confusion. Where does Malachi get off thinking that he needed that note? Last night is forgiven? The hell? He’s the one that suggested we get this attraction out of our system. He’s the one who made it clear he was struggling with resisting me.

I mean, I could have said no. I really, really hadn’t wanted to. Sure, it wasn’t great how quickly Malachi got up and left afterward, but it’s not like I expected cuddles and pillow talk after. Hell, I’m the one who said we couldn’t go up to my bedroom. And he hadn’t even taken his pants off all the way!

Mortification suffuses my face in heat, quickly followed by more indignation. I may have gone into last night with no expectations, but I definitely hadn’t expected him to shut himself off so quickly. I’m less upset with him than I am myself now. This is why I’d never gone through with casual sex or sleeping with any of the guys I’d dated.

Yeah, his quick disconnect was awkward and made me feel weird in the moments right after we finished, but could I really blame him? He’d made it clear it’d been nothing more than satisfying the desire between us, a one-and-done sort of thing.

But the flowers and coffee?

Talk about mixed signals. But Tonya and the girls are right. It’s time to be a girl boss and kick ass at the job Malachi hired me for. Sleeping with him before signing the employment papers isn’t going to change what I’d said yesterday. I can be professional at work, even now. And if he can’t, that’s on him.

Head held high, I walk into The Place determined to be so damned professional, Malachi will be the one wondering if last night actually happened.

Except when I walk in, Perry is at the bar with Carla and greets me with a smile. He’s got a yellow folder and raises it.

“Let’s take a seat and we can fill this out and go over all the details. Do you want something to drink?”

I don’t let my relief show that Malachi isn’t in sight. Just because I’m determined to be the bigger professional doesn’t mean I’m not relieved I don’t have to face him right away. Especially when my lady bits twinge with satisfaction as I pull out a barstool and hop up onto it.

“Just finished my coffee,” I say as I raise the now empty cup and set it aside on the bar top before plopping my purse on the seat next to me. “Let me get everything.”

After Perry takes the required documents to make copies, I start filling out the employment paperwork.

“Excited?” Carla asks as she glances between the inventory in front of her and the clipboard she’s holding.

I glance up at her with a quick grin before returning to the paperwork. “Absolutely,” I answer. “This is different than what I’m used to, but I’m excited for the challenge.”

“I knew you were the right choice,” Carla says with a wink before calling out to another bartender who appeared from the kitchens. When that’s taken care of, her attention returns to me. “We’ve got a good group of girls as dancers. Other than the one issue between the last producers and the one dancer, there hasn’t been any other issues. They mesh really well together.”

I huff a breath of laughter out of my nose before signing the tax document I was on and flipping to the next sheet. “Glad to hear it. Hopefully I can step into the position without too much trouble. None of the girls wanted the position?”

That had honestly been one of my biggest concerns—that there’d be resentment on some of the dancers’ part over not moving up into the position.

Carla shrugged, trading the clipboard for a knife and cutting board before grabbing a pan of lemons from the drink fridge. She tosses a clean white bar towel over her shoulder. “Malachi told the dancers they could let him know if they were interested, but if any did I’m not aware of it. I deal with the front of house, though. Perry manages the theater side more, so he’d probably know better.”

My heart skips a beat at Malachi’s name and I glance around the restaurant. His office is directly above us, along with the private party sections.

“Is Mal—Mr. Casadecappa here already?” Carla doesn’t seem to catch me tripping over his name, thank goodness.

“He’s out for the day, apparently,” a disgruntled voice answers. Carla and I both look at Perry, who is clearly peeved as he returns to the bar and hands me back my information. “Other business, apparently.”

“Nightsh—” I snap my mouth shut before finishing the question. Perry’s eyes bolt to mine, widening slightly. Right. Only he and I know Mal’s true nature. I clear my throat. “Night might have been late for him? He dropped by the club last night.” I recover lamely, revealing that I’d seen him in an attempt to save face.

It makes Perry’s eyes widen further and even Carla is looking at me oddly.

“He did?” Perry asks, a look of pure professional confusion on his face.

Shoot, I’m just making this worse. There’s no way either of them can know what happened last night. I give a half shrug. “Something about checking references?” I offer before quickly changing the subject, pushing the completed paperwork closer to the man with a bright smile. “All done! Time to get started. Only a few days before we open, right?”

If either think my enthusiasm is over the top, they don’t show it. Perry looks relieved, actually.

“Follow me. I’ll show you to the dressing room where your office will be and then the dancers should be showing up soon.”

I wave goodbye to Carla and grab my bag. I’m going to have my own office! I fight back the squeal that builds in my throat, all thoughts of my vampire one-night stand now boss disappearing.

I wasn’t playing myself up when I told Carla I was excited for the challenge this position is going to be. I’m nervous, but the butterflies in my stomach that grow as I follow Perry through a door near the stage and into the back are the good kind.

After a decade working at strip clubs and relying on tips, I’m finally going to be making enough money to save up enough to have breathing room. I’m not going to have to budget so tightly, and if Charlie wants something, I’ll be able to splurge and not feel guilty saying no.

There’s no way I’m going to let one night with my now-official boss screw this up for us.