Page 6 of Devils Cut

"Alright," I agreed, my voice low and steady. "You stick to working behind the bar."

"Thank you," she whispered, relief washing over her face.

"Look, Tempest," I said, leaning in closer. "We take care of our own here, all right? If something's bothering you, you can talk to me."

She looked away, avoiding my gaze. "It's nothing, Mr. King. Just... don’t like being touched."

"Call me Corvus," I said softly. Her pain resonated within me, just beneath the surface. The urge to protect her surged through my veins, stronger than any drug I'd ever tasted.

"Ok, Corvus," she murmured, a small smile appearing on her lips. It didn't quite reach her eyes, but it was a start.

"Is there a uniform?" she asked again, her thick Australian accent strong.

"None," I replied. "Booty shorts, a singlet or a T-shirt is fine. This damned heat doesn't leave us much choice." I ran a hand through my damp hair, wiping the sweat from my brow. "But remember the shorter the shorts, the more attention you'll get. Bigger tips too."

She shrugged nonchalantly, a hint of a smile playing on her lips. "In Australia, we don't live or survive on tips like you do over here."

"Fair enough," I conceded. "You'll work the front bar during day shifts. It's quieter then. Shifts start at 11 am and finish at 5 pm."

"Thank you," she said, her eyes reflecting gratitude. I could tell she appreciated the concession, given her aversion to being touched.

"Welcome aboard, Tempest." I extended my hand for a brief handshake before withdrawing it, remembering her request.

"Thanks, Corvus," she replied, her gaze searching mine for a moment before she turned to leave.

I couldn't tear my eyes away from her as she stood up, the curves of her body making it damn near impossible to focus on anything else. A cold sweat broke out across my brow, and I clenched my fists, trying to regain control over my traitorous body.

“Be here at eleven sharp,” I said, ignoring the pulsating heat that seemed to radiate from my groin.

"Thank you, Mr. King," she said, as she walked out of the office and closed the door behind her.

As soon as she was gone, I let out a breath I didn't know I'd been holding. My heart pounded in my chest, the blood rushing southward betraying the intensity of my attraction to her. I cursed under my breath, hating myself for losing control like this. I was the fucking Vice President of the Devil's Cut MC - I couldn't afford to let something as mundane as lust cloud my judgment.

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I sat at my desk, staring into space, thoughts of Tempest consuming me. That interview... her presence was magnetic. I couldn't shake the image of her yellow eyes and the way they pierced right through me.

A knock on the door broke my reverie. "Come in," I grumbled, already feeling irritated by the interruption.

Amanda stepped into the room, her eyes full of curiosity. "Did that girl get the job?" she asked, not bothering to hide her interest.

"Tempest, yeah," I replied, my voice distant as my mind went back to the mysterious girl. "Front bar only, 11 am to 5 pm. She'll be here tomorrow morning."

"Alright, I'll train her up then," Amanda said with a nod and left, closing the door behind her.

My gaze returned to the empty space before me, haunted by Tempest's presence even though she had long gone.

The door clicked shut behind Amanda, leaving me alone. My mind went back to Tempest, her delicate frame and pale skin. And those eyes... I couldn't shake their intensity.

"Doesn't like to be touched," I muttered to myself, shaking my head. She was only eighteen for fuck's sake. What kind of fucked up life had she survived to get to this point? The thought of her soft skin marred by someone else's cruelty made my blood boil.

I leaned back in my chair, running a hand through my hair. I was thirty-four, sixteen years older than her. I usually avoided the young club whores; they didn't do it for me. But with Tempest... there was something different about her. A pull that I couldn't ignore. It was like an itch under my skin, a yearning I'd never felt before.

"Shit," I muttered, trying to shake off the thoughts. I shouldn't be thinking about her like that. But goddamn, she was beautiful. Hauntingly so. And despite her obvious pain, there was strength in her, something that drew me in.

I stared at the clock on the wall, its ticking only fuelling my restlessness. Tonight's job was important – a gun shipment with some of the crew. As a leader, the responsibility weighed heavily on my shoulders.

"Fuck," I muttered, rubbing my temples. The memory of Tempest's piercing eyes lingered in my mind, but I couldn't afford to dwell on it now. I had a job to do, and I needed my head clear.

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