"How old are you, Meg?"
"I'm twenty-five."
"You're young as well." He gave me a wry smile.
"The other girls all look like they’re under twenty-one."
"Yes." He nodded.
"So why am I here?"
"I'm forty-two." His voice was humorous. "Many would say you're still too young for me."
"Forty-two?" I was surprised. He was older than I’d thought. Older than I’d thought I would be interested in.
"You sound surprised. Brandon is forty-two as well."
"What does that have to do with anything?" I blinked at him and watched as his expression changed.
"You didn't date him, did you?" His eyes narrowed as he surveyed me. "I was taken aback when I met you. You don't seem like his type."
"How rude." I glared at him, feeling rejected.
"Grew up with ‘Full House,’ did you?"
"What?"
"How rude!" he said in a young feminine singsong voice and I laughed in surprise.
"I did watch it when I was younger. I guess I was channeling my inner Stephanie Tanner."
"I guess you were." He moved closer to me and I felt his arm slide around my back. "So if you didn't date Brandon, how do you know him?"
"Why do you care?" I swallowed hard as I felt his hands rest upon my shoulders, and his fingers started kneading into my muscles, massaging my balls of stress and tension.
“I don’t really care,” he murmured, and I felt his breath on the back of my neck.
“Why are you in here with me?” I jumped off of the couch. “What’s the test?”
“You’re eager, aren’t you?”
“No. But I’m here for a job. Nothing else.”
“Tell me about you, Meg.”
“What?” I frowned back at him. “Is that the test?”
“Perhaps.”
“What do you want to know? I was an attorney. I got fired. I applied for a job as a bartender and I ended up here. At this private club. And now I’m in training for a position I know nothing about.”
“How does that make you feel?” He stood up, and I felt his arms on my waist turning me towards him.
“I don’t know.” I shrugged and looked up at him. “I don’t know anything anymore.”
“You’re not the sort of girl we usually have coming through the doors.”
“I suppose I’m not the sort of girl you hire either.”
“No, you’re not.” His eyes bored into mine seriously. “You’re older than the girls we normally take in.”
I glared at him. “Well, no need to spare my feelings.”
“Brandon and I started this club in college.” His voice was soft. “We were best friends and roommates, and I convinced him to start it with me.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
“I’m not sure. Maybe so you’ll trust me.”
“Why do you want me to trust you? You don’t even know me.” I stared at him for a second and saw his expression go from light to hard again.
“Your assignment is to give me a lap dance.” His tone changed and he sat back down on the couch.
“A lap dance?” My voice cracked. “Are you joking?”
“What were you expecting?” He leaned back in the chair. “A spelling bee?”
“I’m not giving you a lap dance.” I shook my head.
“How badly do you want to know about Brandon’s involvement with the club?”
“I don’t care.” Katie’s face flashed in my mind and I sighed. “Why would you tell me if it’s bad? Wouldn’t that incriminate you as well?”
He chuckled. “Spoken like a lawyer.”
“Don’t you care?”
“Are you going to report me to the police?” He raised an eyebrow at me and my breath caught. He looked like the devil incarnate as he sat there with his legs spread open and his arms stretched out. His eyes sparkled in the darkness of the room, and his face looked dark and ominous. Greyson Twining wasn’t a man to play games with. I was positive of that fact.
“I have nothing to report to the police,” I said and then gasped as his fingers grabbed my wrists. “What are you doing?”
“I don’t want you to fail your first test.”
“So this is a strip club? Or should I say ‘a private strip club.’”
“Is that what you think it is?”
“Yes.” I nodded and stepped towards him. I wanted to see the look in his eyes up close.
“And you’re okay with taking a job as a stripper?”
“I’m a lawyer,” I muttered defensively.
“So that means you’re not okay working as a stripper?”
“I’m an unemployed lawyer.” I fell against him as I lost my footing when his hands started caressing my ass. “What are you doing?”
“You work out, huh?”
“What are you talking about?” I muttered, shifting my footing to get away from him but somehow ending up closer to him.
“Your ass cheeks are tight.” He laughed and squeezed. “I can feel your muscles clenching beneath my fingers.”
“Get your hands off of my ass.”
“Okay.” And just like that, his fingers were gone. My fingers fell to his shoulders, and I grasped them as I stood up again. “So, Meg, tell me why you really came to get a job here.”
“I told you. I need to make some money and I thought that bartending would be a way to earn a lot of money fast.”
“Yet you have to know that this isn’t just a bartending job. Why are you still here?”
“Why do you care?” I stood in front of him, looking down into his eyes. I was so close to him that I could see his chest rising beneath his shirt. If I reached my hands out, I could be touching his warmth against my palms.
“I care about everyone who works here, especially those who aren’t here for the right reasons.”
“Brandon Hastings is my best friend’s boyfriend.” I sighed. “Or ex-boyfriend or whatever. I’m not really sure what they are right now.”
“Oh.” His voice sounded surprised, but he gave me a dazzling smile. “So you’re telling me that Brandon wouldn’t care if I f**ked you?”
“I don’t know why he would care.”
“Interesting.” He looked at me thoughtfully. “Then his phone call was more about me than you.”