Page 8 of Felix

So much for peace.

I give the guy a real smile as I tip up his chin. And then I hitch my leg over his lap and plant the heel of my boot at his crotch. His eyes widen, and his Adam’s apple bobs.

“I did warn you,” I say sweetly.

“Christian!”

Ah, hell.

I drop my leg and take a step back as my boss comes storming over, a firm set to his jaw I’ve seen a time or two. Or ten.

“My office. Now,” he says.

I don’t wait to hear whatever apology and free drink offer he gives the table. I just walk away, shaking my head when I catch Noel’s worried gaze and heading for the boss’s office. He catches up before long, face a little red.

The door hasn’t even clicked shut when he says, “What the hell were you thinking?”

“I was thinking I’d had enough of that guy manhandling me.”

He works his jaw, looking unimpressed. “I’ve tried, Christian. But enough is enough. You’re done here.”

I scoff, unable to help it. “Because I defended myself?”

“Because you have a history of being antagonistic with the customers,” he spits back, circling his desk and plopping into his seat. I bite my tongue, hard, as he glances at the screens along one side of the wall that broadcast the goings-on inside the club. “I’ve given you too many chances here, but you’re bad for business. You’re fired.”

I almost open my mouth. Almost tell him it’s not my fault some people are assholes who don’t know how to keep their hands to themselves. Almost tell him there’s this thing called respecting a person’s bodily autonomy, no matter their occupation or what they choose to wear, and hasn’t he heard of it? Almost tell him he’s a total and utter prick.

But there’s no point. Me running my mouth—again—isn’t going to change his mind.

I give a nod before turning for the door.

“Leave your keycard with Max,” he says.

“You got it.”

I don’t slam the door. Don’t yell. I simply stop by the employee change room, grab my things—including the keycard that opens the back door—and walk through the club to the bar.

“Max,” I call out.

He eyes me, expression falling when he sees me holding my things. “He give you the boot?”

“Mhm. Here,” I say, handing over the card, certain my boss is watching me right now from inside his cushy office.

“Sorry, lovey.”

I shake my head. “Don’t. It’s not your fault. He’s a crap boss, Max. You know he is.”

“Yeah, well… The world is shit. Everywhere you go.”

“Maybe I refuse to accept that,” I say, my gaze landing on Noel at the edge of the room. My chest squeezes tight. “Do me a favor and watch out for him?”

Max’s eyes find Noel, his expression softening. “You know I will. Take care of yourself, Christian.”

I knock the bar top. “Always do.”

Noel catches up with me on my way to the door, looking downtrodden. “Christian, I’m so sorry. This is all my fault.”

“It’s not,” I assure him. “You know he’s been looking for a reason to fire me.”

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