Page 6 of Training His Pet

Chapter Four

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“Ah, you’re back.” The bouncer’s white teeth flashed as he grinned down at Erika. Several men standing in the impossible line along the building groaned when she bypassed the roped section and headed straight for the entrance. The bouncer vocalizing his recognition of her earned a few more grunts of disapproval.

Not wanting to squash the only chance she had of getting into the club and a closer view at the Persuccio family, she gave him a warm smile.

“Yep. Erika Devore. I should be on the guest list.” She pointed to the clipboard in his hands.

“I noticed.” He clicked his pen into action and scribbled on the paper. “Seems you found the right palm to grease.”

Erika pushed her hair back and moved her gaze over his shoulder, looking further into the club. Last night she’d made it inside before getting rejected; it seemed she would actually get all the way in tonight. She let him have his jab; she hadn’t paid off anyone, but he could think what he wanted.

“May I?” she asked, pointing toward the door.

His grin morphed into a flat smirk. “Yeah. Third floor is closed tonight, but there’s a new DJ on the second floor.” He recited what must have been his script for the evening and turned to the side to let her pass.

For a bouncer, he didn’t carry much bulk, but she figured the thick white scar slashed across his face worked well enough to scare people into falling in line.

“Thanks.” She stepped past him and over the threshold of the club.

Eardrum-damaging thumping surrounded her as the tempo of the music picked up. House music. She’d avoided it successfully during her stint in college, but she would have to endure it for the evening if she wanted to get close to the Persuccios.

The club had an electric feel to it. Aside from the beat of the music, the energy of the crowd livened the place. Unlike the few clubs she’d been dragged to over her college years, Velvet had a higher level of patrons. Men weren’t gawking over the female customers. They didn’t need to; the waitresses provided enough jaw-dropping entertainment with their short gold skirts and shiny matching halter tops.

She maneuvered her way to the bar. So far, she hadn’t found any sign of the Persuccio crew, but it wasn’t too late into the evening. One glass of wine wouldn’t hurt, and she could use the numbing effect on her nerves.

“What can I get you?” the bartender asked, leaning over the bar toward her.

“Glass of Pinot,” she called back at him. He nodded and reached below to grab a glass.

“Whatever you want, Mr. Nichols, just order and it will be taken care of.” A deep voice caught Erika’s attention. She glanced beside her, at the corner of the bar, to where the sound came from.

Her heart skidded a beat when her eyes locked on him. Dark hair, combed back but not slicked, matched the black stubble across his jaw. His firm, steady jaw.

“And my room fee?” Mr. Nichols, a stout man who was wearing an oversized suit and had a balding head, asked pointedly.

“Waived.”

Mr. Nichols’ lips screwed up in a grin, like he’d just unwrapped the last Wonka bar.

“Any chance Melissa will be our server?”

She assumed Mr. Nichols was bargaining with the manager of the club, so Erika slid herself and her wine down a few stools to hear better. The manager’s jaw clenched at Mr. Nichols’ request.

“Unfortunately, I can’t do that. She’s needed in the back room. But you’ll have two servers all night.”

“You mean she’s needed in the room I rented for the night.” He waved a hand in the air. “No, ignore me, I’m being rude. It’s fine. We’ll take the back tables.”

“Good. Again, I apologize for the inconvenience.” The manager’s eyes lifted, catching Erika in her stare. She swallowed and jerked her gaze away, busying herself in downing her wine.

It had only been a glimpse, but when his eyes had met hers, her insides jolted. The manager gave instructions to the bartender to keep Nichols’ tab open but not charged to his account. The club would be picking it up.

His voice, dark and sultry, carried over to her. A soft warmth built in her chest at the firmness of his tone. He may have been catering to an unhappy customer, but he still seemed to possess the power. Through a side glance she noticed his jaw was still set, not as clenched as before, but still firm. Whatever transpired for him to have to give away a night of liquor to Mr. Nichols irritated him.

“Have a round of tequila shots brought over, and some of those wings we had last time. The girls really liked those.” Mr. Nichols tapped the bar, gaining the bartender’s attention after the manager walked away.

Erika watched the manager’s movements through the crowd. He didn’t sidestep or wiggle through the customers. He didn’t need to; they all simply moved out of his way as he walked.

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