Page 27 of Underworld

Taking a deep breath, I open the doors to the club, and I’m instantly bombarded with thumping music. This is one of those moments I hope I don’t look like I feel. Because I feel like shit.

Making my way over to the bar, I take a seat. What the fuck is my plan? Just march in here and demand to talk to the owner? Fucking hell, Jane, great plan. I take a minute to look around. The club is dark and lit with red LED lights and chains dangling from the ceiling. The furniture is chrome and black leather. A few cages hang from the ceiling with girls dancing to the pulsing beat. Some are clothed, while others are completely naked.

A husky voice behind me startles me out of my thoughts, and I turn to look at the bartender. Holy Shit. Fucking hell, this man is sexy. I suppose the tight leather pants and leather shirt he is wearing . . . can you call it a shirt? It barely covers his nipples while the sleeves cut off at his forearms. But damn, it shows off his assets.

He clears his throat, and I look up to see him smirking at me. Well . . . shit. “Sorry,” I squeak out.

He grins and asks, “What can I do for you?”

Trying to keep my eyes above his nips, I say, “I need to talk to the owner.”

He raises a brow. “The owner? Why’s that, Sugar?”

I bite my lip and tell him, “I need a job.”

He looks me up and down before saying, “You don’t look old enough to be in this establishment, let alone work here.”

I groan. “I know. But I really need the money.”

“Don’t we all, Sugar Tits? But the owner is too busy to tell you exactly what I’m telling you now. You’re too young.”

“Please. I understand that you can’t have me on your books legally, but—”

He arches a brow. “You want us to pay you under the table?”

I nod. “I need the money. This place wouldn’t even be on his radar to . . .” Fuck! I snap my lips shut. Fuck! Great going Jane.

He leans on the bar and asks, “Are you in trouble, Sugar?” I don’t answer. Fuck, Jane! He leans closer before saying, “You need to tell me if you’re in trouble. I can’t help otherwise.”

I huff out a sigh before nodding. He looks at me for a moment as if he’s trying to figure me out before nodding. “Stay here. I’ll be back.”

I sit and wait, anxiously twiddling my fingers. Once I ran, I changed my hair color and even my eye color in an attempt to make sure my dad doesn’t find me. With red hair and green eyes, I no longer look anything like my old self.

Hearing two people talking, I look up. As I watch, the barman walks back in my direction with another man behind him. The other guy is wearing leather pants. He’s also wearing a leather vest with nothing underneath. His brown hair is slicked back, and when his eyes meet mine, they remind me of my own. Well, my old eyes but brighter. Bright blue.

He gives me a nod before introducing himself, “I’m Ben, the owner of this club. Creed says you need some help. Says you're running from someone.”

I can’t stop the glare I shoot the bartender. He just smiles as he shrugs. Mumbling a few choice words, I grind my teeth before admitting, “Yes, I’m running.”

“Who you running from?”

I cross my arms over my chest as I say, “Who I’m running from is none of your concern.”

He arches a brow and replies, “It is my business if I allow you to work for me. Now I’m only asking once more, who you running from, girl?”

I debate my options for a moment before caving. “I’m running from my dad. I refuse to let him sell me like I’m a fucking heifer to breed. I’m not property.”

He looks at me, considering me for a moment before saying, “Red hair is recognizable.”

I point to my hair. “This isn’t my natural color. Not even close. And before you ask, my eye color is different too.”

He taps his chin thoughtfully before asking, “Do you dance?”

I shrug noncommittally. “I haven’t got any complaints yet.”

He smirks. “Okay, here’s the deal; I’ll provide you food and board. You get to keep your tips.” He points up at the ceiling and continues. “You will be in a cage during your shift. No exceptions. Bra and underwear stay on. Tits and vag are for twenty-one and older, which you are not.”

He looks over to Creed, and the man gives him a nod. “I’ll keep an eye on her, boss.”

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