Page 87 of Fifth Avenue Fling

American Andy presses his lips against mine, going for the kill. He’s minty enough for me to invite him into my mouth. With his tongue in my mouth, I rub my stomach without him noticing.

He breaks the kiss. His eyes look a bit chaotic. “Wanna fuck?”

I rear back, shocked. Dirty bastard. Chivalryisdead.

“Getting straight to the point there,” I reply dryly.

He’s about to lean in for another kiss when abruptly, he detaches himself from me.

“What the hell?” American Andy sneers. “Get lost.”

I blink for a second, thinking he’s talking to me. Did I relax my stomach too much, and one slipped out?

Then I realize that two doormen surround us. One of them has their hand on American Andy’s chest.

“Get your hands off me,” American Andy says,his agitation rising.I think he might be on something. His pupils are pretty wild.

“It’s time to leave, Clodagh.” It’s the doorman from outside. Does he have a photographic memory that he remembers everyone’s names from their IDs? “Time to go. Your lift is waiting.”

I look back and forth between Andy and the doormen, perplexed. “Am I getting kicked out for kissing?”

“No.” Doorman number two steps in. “You’re getting escorted home.”

I feel surrounded. “Why?”

“Because my employer says so,” doorman one says in a strained voice that sayshurry the fuck up, lady.

My eyes narrow. “Your employer?”

“Mr. Quinn.”

“He’s the owner of the club?”

“Yes.”

Of course, he never thought of mentioning it to me.

Fuck this shit. It’s not even midnight. I’m not Cinde-fucking-rella.

“He’s my employer too, but I don’t understand. Why do I need to leave?”

He sighs heavily and gives me a sour look. “Look, I dunno, lady. Can we do this the easy way? I don’t have all night.”

Doorman number two has wedged an arm through mine, and doorman number one is encroaching on Orla’s bubble.

“I’m not working now,” I snap. “I’m on my own time.”

“You’ll have to take that up with Mr. Quinn. Good luck,” he deadpans as he leads me through the dance floor.

“This is against my constitutional rights!” I think. Killian Quinn can go to hell. Who does he think he is? His arrogance isoff the charts. He doesn’t own me. He doesn’t dictate what I do with my free time.

Something stronger pushes through the trapped wind burning me up.

Rage.

Killian Quinn is going to fucking have it.

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