Page 20 of The Devil's Playground

But then last night happened. He rescued me, and maybe it’s the teenage inside of me who needed to be and wasn’t, but something shifted last night. I thought… I thought that maybe he noticed me. That he saw me.

And, true, while I’d heard rumors about his reputation before, I just believed they were exaggerated. Kind of like how everyone has heard a different reason behind Devil’s nickname. I haven’t seen Rolls with another woman since I’ve met him, and as pathetic as it is to admit it, I’ve been paying more attention than I had any right to.

Well. As if that simple kiss last night didn’t make it clear that he would never be interested in me, that definitely did.

I will say, though, that Britney’s pretty perceptive. That, or living in Willowbrook meant I lost all my skills to hide what I was thinking from Kieran. She takes one look at me and pats me on my shoulder.

“Ah, don’t worry about it. On the bright side, Miles Haines hasn’t been back since Rolls humiliated him. And who knows? Maybe I’m wrong. Rolls didn’t come back to the Playground when you were out last night, but I just heard from Lulu that he’s sitting in his usual booth.” She waits a beat. “Alone. Kelly has that section. For a cut of the tips, I’m sure she’d switch.”

“Thanks, Brit. I appreciate the heads up.”

Especially since I have no intention on going over there to serve him.

SEVEN

ON A BREAK

Does Rolls know that I’m avoiding him?

The Playground is fucking huge. I could easily stay to one side of the club and conveniently stay away from him—except for when I need to stop by the bar to pick up drinks.

I purposely refuse to look in the corner where I know Rolls’ usual table is. If I don’t see him, I can try to ignore the pit in my stomach. A mixture of undeniable attraction and embarrassment that I honestly thought he might want me has me skittish, but also determined. As far as I’m concerned, he has his night. I got paid. That’s all there is to it.

And I believe that until halfway through my shift when, all of a sudden, he’s there.

Shit. Shit. He’s standing right in front of me, baby blues narrowed down in an expression that has hints of the charm from last night—and a little bit of outright frustration.

“How much longer did you expect me to sit in my booth alone, Nic?”

I lick my lips, nervous—and, damn it, attracted. What is it about me that, the moment a guy shows a hint of danger, I’m already creaming my fucking panties?

Nic… just the way he growled the shortened version of my name like that has me fantasizing about dropping to my knees in front of this man. And, hell, I knew I was easy, but my undeniable arousal is such a shame when he isn’t interested.

But I know that look… that’s not the look of a man who isn’t interested.

What is going on here?

“I’m sorry, Rolls?—”

“Royce.”

“Royce. Sorry. But Kelly’s your server. If you need another drink?—”

“Believe me baby, I’m not drinking tonight. I want to be stone cold sober for this discussion.” His lips quirk up in a daring grin. “You hiding from me?”

Yes. “What? No. I have tables?—”

Royce’s gaze darts around. When he sees Jessie—easy due to the pound of fire-engine red hair she has piled on top of her hair—he flags her down.

“You need me, boss?”

Boss, I remind myself. This man is my boss.

“Cover for Nicolette. She’s going on a break?”

“I am?” I ask, confused.

He grits his teeth. “You are.”

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