Standing in front of the security monitor for Miss Blakely’s room, I watch as she takes a seat in the armchair.
Mr. Forester’s sitting on the bed, and even though I can’t hear what they’re saying, the conversation looks stilted.
My eyes latch onto Miss Blakely’s face, and it’s clear as daylight she’s not comfortable at all.
When she wraps her arms around her waist in a protective move, I order, “Put on the sound. I want to hear what they’re saying.”
“Yes, sir,” one of the men replies.
I step closer as he turns on the sound, and it’s in time to hear Mr. Forester say, ‘Are you always this quiet?’
The man makes himself comfortable on the bed as Miss Blakely answers, ‘Yes.’
Christ, she looks like she’s about to have a nervous breakdown. Where’s the feisty woman I’ve gotten to know over the past three weeks?
‘So…uhm…what do you like to do in your spare time?’ she asks.
‘When I’m not at work, I’m here.’
Minutes pass before Mr. Forester pats the covers and says, ‘Come lie down next to me. I promise I won’t bite.’ Chuckling, he adds, ‘Unless you ask me to.’
My eyes narrow on the man, and my body tenses when Miss Blakely adamantly shakes her head. ‘No. I’m good here.’
Seeing how uncomfortable she is, causes a weird protective feeling to trickle into my chest.
From what I’ve seen tonight, I have a feeling something bad happened to Miss Blakely.
The thought has my eyes narrowing on the monitor.
It explains what happened earlier at my house. When Miss Blakely came barreling out of the living room and ran into me, it looked like she’d seen a ghost.
She has a problem being alone with men.
She didn’t give me that impression at the office, though, which tells me how good she is at pretending.
Mr. Forester sighs, making it clear he’s bored, then mutters, ‘Let’s spice things up.’
The moment he reaches for the zipper of his pants, Miss Blakely’s features tighten with fear.
“Fuck,” I snap as I swing around and make a run for the room they’re in.
I slam the door open and order, “Get him out of here!”
My eyes lock on Miss Blakely, whose breaths are rushing over her parted lips, her eyes wide with terror.
Jesus fucking Christ. She’s having a panic attack.
Crouching in front of her, I keep my tone as gentle as possible as I say, “You’re safe, Miss Blakely.”
Seeing how pale she is stirs something in my chest, and the urge to hold her almost overwhelms me.
Don’t touch her. It’s the only request she has.
Fuck.
“You’re safe,” I repeat. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”
The promise falls over my lips before I can even think about it.
I watch as she fights to regain control over her emotions, and it makes me respect her so much more.
Christ, she’s strong.
Seeing the woman who’s given me attitude at the office in such a vulnerable state makes another wave of protectiveness wash through me.
Samantha
My breaths keep bursting over my lips as my eyes lock with the staff member’s worried brown ones.
There’s something familiar about the man, and when I manage to calm down a little, it sinks in that Kevin is no longer in the room.
“Take your time,” the masked man murmurs, his tone still soft. “Just know that you’re safe.”
I nod as I glance around the room before looking at the man crouching in front of me.
He made himself smaller so he wouldn’t come across as a threat.
The thought has me calming down some more until I’m able to force a trembling smile to my face. “Thank you.”
His dark brown gaze is locked on me as he asks, “Do you feel better?”
Weirdly, I do. There’s just something about the man that makes me feel safe.
Nodding, I whisper, “Yes. Thank you.”
He shakes his head. “No thanks needed. I apologize for what happened with Mr. Forester.”
I nod again before taking a much-needed deep breath.
Rising to his feet, he moves to the bed, where he takes a seat on the edge. “You still have thirty minutes left. I’ll sit with you if that’s okay?”
I nod again, and then the realization sinks in that I didn’t completely lose my shit. There was a hiccup, but I think I can do this as long as the man doesn’t try anything.
Knowing he’s a staff member of Paradiso helps set me at ease, and slowly, the chaotic emotions in my chest fade away until I’m just nervous.
Instead of undressing me with his eyes, like Kevin did, the man just stares at the wall.
He’s bigger than Kevin, and when my gaze moves over his muscled frame, I wonder if he’s the same man I saw the other night.
“Am I allowed to know your name?” I ask, my tone still tense from the little panic attack I had.
He shakes his head. “Unfortunately not.”
Nodding, I ask, “Is it to protect your identity?”
“Yes.” His eyes settle on me, and once again, I’m struck with the weird sensation that I’ve met him before.
His tone is still soft when he asks, “Do you feel better?”
“Yeah. I just didn’t expect…” My hand nervously gestures between me and the bed, “…ah…that to happen.”
“Again, I apologize.”
I nod and glance down at my lap.
Silence fills the air, but this time, it isn’t uncomfortable.
I close my eyes and focus on filling my lungs with deep breaths of air.
This is better.
Maybe it’s because I know he’s an employee of the club and not a member who’s looking to get laid.
“You’re doing very well,” he praises me.
A smile tugs at my mouth. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. Only twenty minutes left.”
Curious to hear his answer, I ask, “Don’t you think I’m weird for requesting to sit in a room with a man for an hour and do nothing?”
“From what I witnessed tonight, I think you’re brave.”
His reply has my eyes snapping open and locking on him. “You think I’m brave?”
Still staring at the wall, he nods.
I don’t know a single thing about this man, but his words mean a lot to me.
Feeling a hell of a lot more comfortable with the employee than I’ve felt with any man since I fled Houston, I continue to stare at him.
“Do you like working here?” I ask.
He shrugs, and his tone is still gentle when he answers, “It pays well.”
“You won’t get in trouble for sitting with me, right?”
He shakes his head. “Not at all.”
My teeth tug at my bottom lip, and I wonder if I’m allowed to request to meet with him whenever I come to the club.
It won’t hurt to ask.
“Next time I make an appointment, can I request that you join me?”
He stops looking at the wall, and when his eyes rest on me, I feel a little awkward.
“As long as you don’t request anything sex-related.”
“Dear God,” the words burst from me, and my stomach lurches just from thinking about sex. “No, definitely nothing…ahh…like that. It’s just to sit with me. A conversation here and there would be nice.”
“I’m sure it can be arranged.”
I’m filled with a sense of relief as I say, “I’d really appreciate it.”
Before a heavy silence can fall between us, he asks, “Have you ever traveled?”
I nod. “Only to Canada to visit family. My grandmother used to live there.”
“Did she move back to the States?”
I shake my head. “She passed away three years ago.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.” He’s quiet for a moment, then says, “I like to travel as often as possible. I find other cultures interesting.”
“Yeah?” I don’t even notice that I’m completely relaxed. “Where have you been?”
“Thailand, the Netherlands, Germany, Spain.” He seems to think about something before adding, “I’ve been all over South America.”
“I’m jealous. It must’ve been quite an experience.”
“It was.”
“Do you have a favorite?” I ask.
“Thailand. I’d love to go back.”
The corner of my mouth lifts. “I’ll put Thailand on my list of places to see.”
“What else is on your list?”
My smile widens as I chuckle. “Every country in the world.”
“That’s really ambitious of you,” he teases me.
“A girl can dream.”
This is what I wanted – just to sit and talk with a man.
When he glances at his wristwatch but doesn’t say anything, I ask, “How much time is left?”
“There’s no time limit. We can talk until you’re ready to leave.”
I check the time and see that my appointment ended five minutes ago. “Are you sure you won’t get in trouble?”
“Dead sure. Don’t worry about it.”
My stomach growls loudly and it has me saying, “They should serve food here.”
“We can order takeout.”
My eyebrows lift with excitement. “Really? I would kill for a burger and fries.”
He pulls a phone out of his pocket, and I watch as he calls someone and tells whoever is on the other end of the line, “Order a burger and fries and bring it to the room.”
I’m once again struck with a feeling that I know him from somewhere.
When he ends the call, he moves off the bed to sit on the floor. He stretches his long legs in front of him, and it looks so comfortable, I decide to join him.
His eyes are locked on me as I get from the chair and sit down near the wall so I can lean back against it, leaving enough space between us to fit two people.
“So you’re a burger and fries girl?” he asks, his tone unexpectedly playful.
“I’m actually a pizza girl, but I had it for dinner last night.”
He lets out a chuckle, and the sound makes my smile widen.
“What do you like to eat?” I ask to keep the conversation flowing.
“Anything but…” he pauses for a moment, then clearing his throat, he says, “I’m not a fan of broccoli.”
“I’m not too fond of it either.”
“We have something in common.”
I’m surprised when the door opens a few minutes later, and a staff member hands my takeout to my mystery man.
“Anything else, sir?” the other man asks.
“A bottle of water.”
As soon as the staff member leaves, I ask, “Are you a manager here?”
My mystery man nods as he opens the paper bag to take out my food.
When he passes my burger and fries to me, I ask, “Is there any ketchup?”
He hands me two packets and our fingers brush. Instantly, my heartbeat quickens, and I quickly pull back. Trying to hide my reaction from him, I squirt the ketchup all over my fries.
