Page 159 of Rut Bar

“Vee! You made it. Doors open in five minutes,” Nate grins.

I smile too. I can’t help it. Everything we’ve all worked so hard for, all our dreams and planning, is about to come true. This is the start of some big plans. New York City first, then Las Vegas, followed by Miami, and finally Chicago. After that, maybe London. We’ll see. We’ll have a Rut full of handsome alphas in sparkly, sequin thongs in every major party capital of the country. And in a few years, maybe the world.

“I wouldn’t miss this for the world,” I tell him, grinning back. “How’s the line?”

“Packed. The line wraps around the block. We stopped counting at three hundred heads. I have to admit, I’m surprised you didn’t fly up for tonight. We’d have loved to have you join us.”

Anthony hands me a drink and I take it, taking his hand with my other one. He squeezes mine. “My place is here,” I say. “Besides, I trust you. I know how hard you’ve worked to make Rut what it is.”

A year ago, I would have flown up there for the grand opening. I would have stayed for a few days, then extended it to a few weeks, then a few months, and then I’d have probably moved to NYC by accident. I wouldn’t have trusted someone else to run Rut with the same vision I have in my head.

But I realized that part of building an excellent team and creating a family is trusting they’ll be there when you need them. That they’ll have your back. I can’t be everywhere all at once, so I have to believe the people I’ve chosen to stand beside me will do their part.

“It’s eight,” Nate says, glancing at his watch.

“Make them wait. It builds anticipation. We don’t want to seem too eager.”

Nate nods and introduces the staff to us while he’s killing time as we leave people standing outside in the cold, waiting and wondering when the doors will open and they’ll get to be the very first people in Rut NYC. “Oh, Vee, this is Natalia. She’s my floor manager.”

Natalia is a petite woman with shockingly large red hair. Her wild curls frame her face like a halo of fire. She’s either a tiny beta or an omega. I’m hoping for the latter. It’s nice to see women, especially omegas, hired into leadership roles. Our dynamic is obnoxiously underestimated.

“Hello, it’s so nice to meet you,” Natalia says with a Russian accent.

“Oh my God,” Anthony mutters under his breath. “It’s the Russian version of you.”

I elbow him to shut up and widen my smile. “It’s lovely to have you on team Rut.”

“I’m excited to be here." She nods and goes back to her work, yelling something in Russian at a server who dropped a stack of black cocktail napkins everywhere. The enormous scantily clad alpha shrinks from her as she berates him. She bends down on her shockingly high stilettos to help him pick them up. “Nyet! Not like that,” she shouts off to the side at someone else, moving out of the frame to handle the next crisis.

“I don’t see it,” I say, ignoring Anthony’s laugh as I glance at the bar clock again. We’ve killed twenty minutes. That should be enough. I nod at Nate, who gives the order to the bouncers to open the doors.

The stream of customers fill the space and I watch, gauging how much of a success Rut NYC is going to be by every head that walks past, swiveling to take it all in.

“Okay, who wants to get this party started?” Anthony shouts once we’ve muted our microphone. “I made a pitcher of shots. Grab it from the fridge, Ashley.”

While everyone works on getting wasted as quickly as possible although the sun hasn’t set yet in LA, I walk around and accept everyone’s congratulations. It’s done. We’re only getting started, but it’s done.

“Congratulations, sweetheart,” Brendan says, pulling me to his side and planting a kiss on my head. “You worked hard, and it shows. To your first twenty million year,” he says, clinking his glass against mine and downing it.

I let out a shaky breath and take a sip. My cheeks hurt from smiling all day. “Twenty million… I don’t know about that. It takes a lot of money to start a club.” New York’s going to be running in the red for a while until they get their footing and we find out how good the location really is. The liquor license cost more than I thought it would. New York taxeseverything. I thought California was bad.

Starting a club is hard. Keeping a club open after the six-month shine rubs off the penny is even harder. I learned a lot about the difference between good business and great business in my first two years. Learned even faster that gimmicks like celebrity drop-ins end up costing more in comped liquor for the celebrity and their entourage than you make at the door.

“If anyone can do it, sweetheart, it’s you.” Brendan kisses me on the cheek and takes my empty glass from my limp hand. “Let’s get you a refill. You’re far too sober for tonight’s party.”

I smile and bite my lip. “You want to get me drunk so you can have your way with me under the bar.”

Brendan’s expression is calculating and full of heat as he gives me a once over, his gaze lingering over the curve of my hip, the nip of my waist, and the flare of my cleavage. The dress I’m wearing has a deep v that goes all the way down to my breastbone. I had to buy a special plunge bra for it, but it was worth every penny.

“Under the bar?” He quirks one eyebrow as if he hadn’t thought of that, but now he is.

My face heats with a blush, and I shake my head. There’s not an inch of Rut that some horny patron hasn’t convinced one of the alpha dancers or bartenders to fuck them in. In the bathroom, behind the bar, backstage, in a dark corner, under tables. If a forensic analyst used that special light up spray they use on TV, this place would glow like a crime scene.

“Don’t get any ideas,” I warn him. Anthony is bad enough. I don’t need two of them competing for first place in the most-public fuck spot.

“Never.” His grin betrays his lie, but he disappears into the crowd before I can think of a response.

Fifteen minutes later when he comes back and pulls me from my conversation with Darlene—something about doing a vampire routine with a sheer poet shirt, satin cape, and fake blood—I’m not surprised the drink he hands me tastes like coconuts.

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