Total pages in book: 227
Estimated words: 220940 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1105(@200wpm)___ 884(@250wpm)___ 736(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 220940 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1105(@200wpm)___ 884(@250wpm)___ 736(@300wpm)
“That’s not funny.”
I smile and wander into the club, finding it surprisingly quiet for . . . I look down at my phone. Eleven. “Where is everyone?” I ask Mason. He’s checking the glasses, holding them up to the light before slipping them onto the shelves behind the bar.
“I was told to limit staff this afternoon as there are some interviews.”
I dump my bag and coat on the bar. “I didn’t know we were hiring.”
“Dancers.”
“Oh . . .” I press my lips together and lower until I’m crouching on the floor, my black knee-length jersey dress stretching to allow it. “I might audition.” Mason looks over the bar at me, his eyebrows high. I’m always mystified when he does that. How can he lift them with so many rings through them? “Did you get another piercing?” I ask, rising.
“Did you?”
I pout, nibbling at my lip ring, feeling the clink of metal on my teeth. “It’s old but new.” I smile mildly, swallowing discreetly.
Mason smiles, jerking his head. “Come on, help me with these glasses.”
I leave my jacket and bag on the bar and round it, grabbing a towel and a highball. I won’t ask him why the other staff aren’t here but I am. Turns out I’m rather good at this bar malarky. Or perhaps my initiative and willingness is simply because this is my first job and my enthusiasm is off the charts. I’m happy here. Safe. “What time do the interviews start?” I ask, closing one eye and holding the glass up.
“Any minute.”
“You had a haircut, girl?” Drake says as he passes.
“I have, indeed, had a haircut.” And it feels so much better. Swishier. Thicker. And much neater than when I hacked it off myself with blunt scissors. “You like?” I feel at my nape.
“You got a fella?”
“What?”
“A man?” Drake smiles.
“No, why?”
“Show me your hands.” He makes it to the bar, nodding at my hands, and Mason chuckles beside me. “Show me.”
“Show him,” Mason adds.
I sigh, placing the glass and towel down, holding out my hands and wriggling my fingers. “There.”
He sniffs, looking at me in question. “No nail polish.”
“I don’t do polish.” My father wouldn’t allow it. So maybe I should get a manicure and fix that. “Are we done?” I collect my glass and towel.
“We’re done,” Drake says, wandering off to join Des. “As you were,” he adds in the worst British accent I’ve ever heard.
I laugh and get back to business, and I don’t stop smiling. All these men, they’re like endless big brothers looking out for me. It’s new, if strange. Addictive. I’ve never felt so safe immersed in such danger, surrounded by deadly men.
Nolan comes from the corridor that leads to the office. “You have to find a way to keep me,” I say, leaning on the bar.
He laughs. “Pearl, babe, what Rose wants, she gets, and she wants you at the salon when it’s done.”
“It’s a beauty spa.” How many times do these men need telling? “I love working here,” I add. It doesn’t involve qualifications that I don’t have, and everyone is so friendly and protective. It’s a novelty. I get back to polishing, my eyes naturally moving up to the secret office. Everyone except him. But I can avoid him.
“Listen, Pearl,” Nolan says, pulling my attention his way.
“I’m listening.” Always listening.
He gets on a stool, giving a nod to Mason. I don’t ask. There are so many nods happening around this place, the mansion, and the boatyard. I’m surrounded by Churchill dogs. “I don’t want to lose you.”
I smile and reach across the bar, placing my hand on his. “I don’t want to lose you either, Nolan.”
Mason lets out a bark of laughter, and Nolan chuckles under his breath. Then he frowns. “Did you get a haircut?”
“God, you men are so observant.” Something catches my eye across the club. “Oh, I think this is one of your applicants.” A young woman struts in on heels that defy the law of balance, and I watch in wonder as she dials up the sex appeal, firing the men at the bar—not me—a toothy, wide, and definitely seductive smile. She’s stunning. Really stunning. “Never lose an opportunity of seeing anything beautiful,” I muse, “for beauty is God's handwriting.”
“Emerson?” Mason asks, surprising me.
I look at him, interested. “Yeah.”
“Did you study him?”
I nod, lying. Or is it lying? I did study Emerson, just not in a school, college, or university. “You’re familiar with his work?” I ask, seeing Nolan greet the woman in my peripheral vision.
“For my finals.” He grins. “I gave up philosophy and poetry to manage a bar and help launder money for the mafia. It pays better.”
I chuckle, but it dries up when Brad appears across the club, fixing the lapels of his suit jacket. He spots me. His lip definitely curls a little. I quickly break the staring deadlock, raising a glass and inspecting the sparkles.