Page 8 of Born into Blood

Gabby’s smile drops as she leans her hip against the bar. “She was an idiot. She liked the tips a little too much and decided she’d rather try and find herself a sugar daddy. She got caught fucking the guy who won tonight. When the boss found out, he quickly fired her ass. There’s too much money at stake, and if any of the other men found out that the girl serving them drinks is also in bed with one of the players, shit is going to go bad fast. They’re already paranoid about cheating.”

She stops and points at several of the light fixtures along the wall.

“That’s why every game is videotaped from every angle. The men can request to view the tapes if they feel like any cheating is going on.”

“What happens if anyone ever gets caught cheating?”

She sighs and scoots off from the counter. “I don’t want to know the answer to that. I’d much rather keep my job here. I have a three-year-old, and being able to stay home and take care of him during the week means everything to me. I’m not going to risk that by doing something stupid like sticking my nose where it doesn’t belong or trying to fuck one of these old, rich dudes. No thanks.”

I can’t help but smile at her. I like Gabby, and I hope I’m able to keep working with her.

“What’s your son’s name?”

“Oliver, but I call him Ollie.” She smiles and pulls her phone out of her back pocket, swiping the screen and showing me a photo. He’s adorable—chubby cheeks, big, brown eyes, and a huge smile spread across his face. He looks just like his mom, even down to the same shade of honey-blonde hair.

“He’s beautiful,” I tell her.

She gets a sappy, sweet smile on her face, the look some mothers get when they talk about their kids, and I wonder if my mom ever looked that way about me. I only ever see her give smiles like that when she’s thinking about my dad.

“Thanks,” Gabby says. “His dad and I knew we’d be shit as a married couple, but we’ve kept on good terms for Ollie’s sake. He babysits him when I work, so that’s nice, and Ollie loves seeing him.”

“That’s really great that you two could work something out.”

“Yeah.” She gives a soft laugh and rolls her eyes. “His girlfriend’s a real piece of work, but thankfully they’re not living together and James is pretty protective of his time with our son, so it’s always just him at the apartment.”

“Maybe you’ll get lucky and they’ll break up.”

She laughs and digs her keys out of her purse. “Here’s hoping.”

When we get to the bottom of the stairs, she turns back to say, “It was nice meeting you. I hope we get to work together again.”

“Me too,” I tell her before she slips into the crowd, making her way to the back hallway. I look over at Marco, not sure if I should just leave or if I’m supposed to finish the shift I would’ve had tonight.

He puts me out of my misery by saying, “Boss wants to see you in his office.”

“Okay.” The music easily drowns out my whispered reply as I look in the direction of the office I’ve never once been allowed into. Intimidated doesn’t even begin to describe how I feel when I force my feet to move towards the dark hall Gabby had just disappeared down. I’m too focused on what I’m going to say and not paying nearly enough attention to the crowded club I’m in. When a large man bumps into me, knocking me off balance, I don’t stand a chance of righting myself in time. I go down hard, my ass taking the brunt of it, and it’s only pure luck that I don’t flash everyone around me. Since the usual spandex shorts I wear under my skirts were dirty, I’m only wearing my sensible cotton panties, and I consider it a mini miracle that my thighs instinctively close, one I’m profoundly grateful for.

I’m about to swallow my pride and bring myself to standing when someone offers me a hand—a tattooed one that looks large enough to completely engulf one of mine. My eyes drift up, taking in the large tattoo of the Grim Reaper that covers his forearm, the intricate patterns that cover his impressive bicep and disappear under his black T-shirt before reappearing at the neckline and covering his neck, and then it’s nothing but chiseled jaw, beautiful cheekbones, and the most gorgeous set of green eyes I’ve ever seen in my life.

When I keep staring at him like an idiot, his full mouth lifts up in a slight grin before he grabs my hand and pulls me to standing like I weigh nothing, which is obviously not the case. I’m not the kind of girl who’s ever been accused of being too thin. I wonder if men have any idea how sexy it is when they can lift a woman without grunting. Of course everything about the gorgeous, tattooed man in front of me is sexy, and I’m guessing he probably knows it.

He’s still gripping my hand, and the heat of his skin threatens to burn me if I don’t put some distance between us.

“Thanks,” I say loud enough for him to hear me over the music, and then I look into those green eyes one last time before turning and walking away. My ass and pride both hurt in equal measure, and I’m not willing to stick around and humiliate myself even further. You can always go lower. If life has taught me anything, it’s that. Things can always get worse. You can always go down and very rarely get the opportunity to go up.

When I’m almost to the door that’s always shut every time I look at it, it opens, and a man steps out right as he’s saying, “Be sure and call your dad, Dominic. It’s not nice to make him worry. You know how much he hates that.”

He speaks with an accent, but it’s definitely not Italian. He turns around and sees me standing in the hall. He’s incredibly good looking but old enough to be my dad, and I’m debating on just leaving when a deep voice comes from inside the office, “Fuck off, Vitaly.”

Despite the words, there’s no anger in the tone, and the man who’s obviously Vitaly laughs, not looking even slightly fazed at just being told to fuck off. I must look scared to death, because he smiles and says, “Relax, kid. Just don’t bring up his father-in-law and you’ll be fine.”

I barely manage to whisper a quick thanks while my mind screams at me that I’m in way over my head. I need this job, but I’m pretty sure I’m standing in a hallway with one of the notorious Melnikov brothers right now. The man standing in front of me is still grinning and doesn’t look like a vicious murderer, but something tells me looks can be deceiving with this guy. He may have an easy smile, but his hands, arms, and neck are covered in tattoos, and I have a feeling his brown eyes could turn cold and hard pretty damn quickly.

“Luka,” Vitaly hollers and then says something in a language that must be Russian. The voice that answers sends a shiver down my spine, and it’s not from fear. The voice is deep and sexy, and I don’t need to understand the words to know that I’d like him to keep talking and never stop.

When I turn my head, I bite back the sigh I want to give because of course it’s the man who helped me up. For a second I think Vitaly might be his dad, but there isn’t much of a family resemblance. They’re both insanely attractive, but Luka’s eyes are more almond-shaped, his jaw a little sharper, and when I realize I’ve been caught staring at him again, I turn my head and scurry into the room, willing to face the unknown of my boss’s office instead of gawking at the gorgeous man I’ll most likely never see again.

I start to second-guess my decision as soon as both my feet are planted in front of the imposing desk and the even more intimidating man who’s sitting behind it. Dominic Alessi is not at all what I’m expecting him to be. I’d been envisioning someone older, someone who doesn’t fill out his suit quite so well, and definitely not someone who’s looking at me in an appraising sort of way, like he’s already figured out all my shortcomings and is trying to weigh them out to see if the good will outweigh the bad.

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