Page 18 of Stained
“Of course we haven’t.” He sounded like Danica, too.A male one.The same dominant tone, though. “What were you doing up there?”
The lobby was silent with so many people in it. Dozens of eyes looked right at Alicia.
“Um… I…”
“Did you see Danica?”
The accusation!
When Alicia didn’t immediately answer, the older gentleman softened his lined face. “I see. You should probably be on your way, young lady.”
He didn’t have to tell her twice. “I’m sorry if I somehow bothered you, sir.” She waited for the man in front of her to move. He didn’t.
The older gentleman, however, came closer. He may have looked and sounded like Danica, but his scent was wildly different. Spicy. Cinnamon and ginger. A hint of cloves.
“I don’t know what you were doing with my daughter, but I can guess.” Whoa.Whoa. “It will be the last time. In my building, anyway. Now, go.”
Alicia went. She went so quickly that she almost overshot the car parked by the sidewalk.
“Who the hell was that?” she asked the driver. The door closed behind her.
“That’s Russell Moreau, ma’am. Ms. Moreau’s father.”
Alicia may have felt too young for a heart attack, but she wasn’t too young for a stroke.
Chapter 6
Alicia had never been so glad to be home. Home was a refuge. Even if Ms. Clayborn had transgressed that refuge by bringing Danica into her space, Alicia was still relieved to enter her quaint abode and remove her shoes by the front door.
Candice popped out of the kitchen holding a cocktail shaker. “Back already! Well, don’t get too comfortable. I made margaritas.”
Alicia wandered nearby, feet dragging across the carpet. “Good. I need alcohol.”
“I figured.” A martini glass was shoved into her hand. “No lime, just how you like.”
The alcohol burned a lot more than Alicia anticipated. As soon as the fire in her mouth and throat calmed down, she wheezed.
“Extra strong. For you.”
“Holy shit,” Alicia muttered, handing the empty glass back. “Get me another. Stat.”
She retreated to the living room, where the comfy couch awaited. Alicia didn’t bother to change. A cushion called hername. By the time she was comfortable, Candice emerged with another martini, a toothpick spearing a green olive clenched between her teeth.
“So. Tell me what happened.” Candice sat down. She didn’t gulp down her alcohol like Alicia had, but that wasn’t Candice’s style to begin with. The woman had been a bartender for years on top of hosting and waitressing.It’s how we met. Both Alicia and Candice worked at Luxe, a bar catering to white collar workers, before it was bought out, and the original staff were laid off at once.Some of the best tips in town. Especially since Alicia had been the only full-time hostess. Benefits and tips! Who had heard of such a thing?
Sighing, Alicia dangled her martini glass over the edge of the couch, eyes pointed toward the ceiling. Her legs spread open, thighs straining against her pencil skirt.
“I…”
“Hey, weren’t you wearing tights when you left? Where are they?”
Alicia jerked up, gin and vermouth splattering. “You keep track of my outfits?”
“I am when you’re summoned to see some horny billionaire you’ve already fucked.”
What could Alicia say? Besides,“You done caught me. I wore tights out of here. I ain’t got them now.”
“Knew it.” Now Candice shot that martini down her throat. So much for appreciating her own mixology skills. “Knew that was a booty call. Just didn’t think it would be over so quickly.”
