Page 7 of Sins of a King
“Because no one asked me.”
“Barrett, do you want to be my mistress?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t even know you.”
“So you need to know me before you sleep with me?”
“No,” I huffed in annoyance. “I’m not a commodity to be traded.”
“That was your brother’s doing. Not mine.”
“Still—”
“I’m not going to argue semantics with you. Nor am I going to coerce you into something you don’t want to do.”
The elevator doors dinged and opened. Our dinner arrived on a cart, pushed by a male hotel attendant. He quickly set the table in the kitchen and then left.
My stomach rumbled in anticipation, and then I got a whiff of the delicious scent of cooked meat. Flynn helped me with my chair, the heat of him at my back. I had the insane urge to press myself against the wall of his chest and let his hands slide over me.
I set the glass of scotch aside.
Flynn took his seat across the table and placed his white linen napkin in his lap. I picked up my silverware and cut into the steak. It nearly slid apart of its own free will, and I closed my eyes while I savored it.
“Good?” Flynn asked, his voice gruff.
My eyes flew open. He watched me with an unnatural stillness, a look of sheer intensity on his angular face. He was as old-world as his hotel, I realized. A man who didn’t belong in the time period he’d been born.
“Good,” I rasped.
We ate a few moments in silence but Flynn finally spoke, bringing us back to the matter at hand. “You wanted to know why you’re here.”
I nodded for him to continue.
“What I’m about to say has to stay between us. Understand?”
I nodded again.
“There’s a burlesque club attached to The Rex. Did you know that?”
“No.”
“Someone is selling drugs in the club. I know it’s an employee, but I haven’t been able to discover who.”
“Okay, but I don’t under—”
“I want you to work in my club.”
“As what?” I demanded. “I’m not a dancer.”
“Cocktail waitress. It’s a simple proposition, Barrett. Help me find out who’s selling drugs, your brother’s debt is cleared, and then you can go back to your life.”
“But I have a job!”
“You’ll have to take a leave of absence.” He spoke like working for him was already a foregone conclusion.
