Page 70 of Strictly the Worst

“Ladies,” I murmur, walking over to them. “You all look beautiful tonight. But I think there’s been a mistake.” I nod at the door. “Can we discuss this outside?”

“This is the Salinger party, right?” tall, dark, and pretty next to me says. “Are you the guy getting married?” She puts her hand on my chest and I sigh loudly. I pull it away and she giggles.

There’s a security guard at the door. All part of the package I arranged. He’s wearing a black suit, with a wired earbud like he’s keeping the president alive rather than looking after a group of idiots losing money at poker.

“Where’s your boss?” I ask him.

“Head of security?” He frowns. “I think he’s probably in the monitor room.”

“No, I mean the head of the casino,” I tell him. “I need to speak to him about…” I gesture at the women who are all talking and laughing. And showing no sign of leaving.

“Mr. Lindy is in his office. Would you like me to have you escorted there?” he asks.

“I’ll escort him,” the handsy chest-toucher says. “Just say the word and I’ll take you to heaven, baby.”

I roll my eyes. She seems like a sweet girl.

“Can you get Lindy to come here?” I ask the security guard. There’s no way I’m leaving these women. If I go, they will be back in the private room like a shot.

And my brothers are nowhere near as diplomatic as I am. It’ll end in tears. Or in violence. And I’ll get blamed.

And I’m pissed because I don’t even want to be here. I want to go home. Or at least to my bedroom in the penthouse suite we’ve rented. I want to call Carmichael again. See if she picks up this time.

Because she didn’t the five other times I called her after my talk with Myles. I’m such a fucking idiot. I should have called her last week.

It takes five minutes for Lindy to arrive. We shake hands. I’ve known him a while. I used to bring clients to this casino in my previous job.

“We have a problem,” I say, leaning so I can whisper to him. “I didn’t order these ladies.”

Lindy looks surprised at my words. “Yes you did.”

Oh shit. No I didn’t. I really didn’t. My stomach starts to tighten because if he says that to my brothers…

“I didn’t ask for them,” I say again, my voice lifting an octave.

“They’re part of the package you ordered.” He lifts a brow. “Evening entertainment,” he says. “That’s what you asked for.”

The blood drains from my face. “I meant a fucking singer or something.” Jesus Christ. I’m dead meat. I pinch the bridge of my nose, trying to ignore the racing of my heart. “We need to get them out of here now.”

“Of course,” Lindy says smoothly. “There’s just one small problem…”

“What is it?” I snap, because it’s a matter of minutes before at least one of my brothers comes out to find out what’s going on. And with my luck it’ll be Myles. He’ll hear Lindy saying I ordered women and I’ll never hear the fucking end of it.

“They usually make… extra money.” Lindy clears his throat. “Tips, if you will. Because I booked them out for the evening for your entertainment.”

I stare at him for a minute. “So you want me to pay them tips for services I haven’t even asked for?”

Lindy shrugs. “I just think they deserve to be compensated.”

My mouth drops open. I’m about to argue with him, but then the door to the private room opens and I panic. “Add it to my bill,” I tell him, and he nods affably. I’m a fucking chump, but at least I’m not going to be the butt of my brothers’ jokes for the next god knows how long.

“Everything okay?” Brooks asks, popping his head around the door. “Myles wanted to come out but I think I held him off.”

“Everything is fine,” I tell my younger brother. “Thanks.”

“No problem. You coming back in?” he asks.

“I’ll be there in ten minutes. I just gotta make a phone call.” And calm the fuck down.

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