Page 36 of The Butcher

I took a seat a few chairs down.

After she handed him his tab, she spotted me, and a smile brighter than the lights of Paris hit me like the spotlight from the Eiffel Tower. She sauntered over with her hourglass frame,her eyes catlike because she’d done her makeup differently. She made my drink, a scotch on the rocks, a double. “This one’s on the house—just because you’re fucking hot.” She winked at me, so sexy when she was confident in who she was, and then moved down to the next customer. It was a busy night, so she didn’t have as much time to chat as she normally did.

I felt a stare on the side of my face, so I turned to look.

The guy she’d turned down just looked at me.

“She’s my girl,” I explained, granting him a bit of mercy.

Thoroughly embarrassed by his failed shot, he just left, leaving his full drink there along with his paid tab.

Fleur continued to help everyone else who wanted a drink, managing to work the room without appearing stressed about it.

I didn’t need her attention. I was perfectly content drinking my scotch and watching her work, her tits unbelievable in that top and her ass ready for a bite in that skirt. Sometimes she would pass and give me the eye.

A woman took a seat at the bar beside me, an attractive blonde in a little cocktail dress. “Whatcha drinking?”

It took me a second to realize she was talking to me. “Scotch.”

“I like a man who enjoys a stiff drink.”

I ignored her and turned back to Fleur, her back to me as she grabbed new bottles from the cabinet.

“I’m Denise?—”

“I’ve got a woman.” My eyes followed Fleur as I brought the glass to my lips and took a drink, the scotch already halfway gone.

The blonde continued to sit there like she’d never been rejected in her life and didn’t know what to do.

Fleur walked over to help her. “What can I get you, girl?”

She hesitated before she answered. “Vodka cranberry.”

Fleur pulled out a glass and threw the drink together before she slid the full glass to her. “Anything else?”

The blonde shook her head.

Fleur brought the transaction machine to her, showed her the bill on the screen, and processed her payment. The blonde returned to the table where she sat with her friends. Fleur gave no indication she knew what had transpired between the blonde and me and continued with her shift.

I finished my glass then tapped it against the counter. “Sweetheart.”

Her eyes lit up when she looked at me, and she made me another drink, holding my gaze while her hands moved, a fucking pro. Then she walked off and continued to help everyone else who squeezed into the bar, either wanting a drink or just to get close to her.

It took an hour for the bar to quiet down.

“I’m gonna have to cut you off, sir.” She came to where I sat at the bar and leaned forward, her elbows on the edge of the bar, her tits practically falling out of her top.

I looked down and stared—purposely and intently. “Because of my disorderly conduct of staring at your tits and ass all night?” My eyes lifted to hers again, my glass empty in front of me, the ice cubes still fully formed at the bottom of the glass.

“Because I’m going home with you—and we close in ten minutes.”

The smile she pulled from me was out of my control. She was a magician, saying the magic words to make me do her bidding. “Get me the bill, sweetheart.”

She moved to the register and printed out the bill before she set it in front of me.

I slipped a wad of bills inside and watched her close up for the night. I was pleased she wanted to come to my place because I didn’t care for her apartment. The loft was not suitable for someone like me, who had to duck to navigate the sloping walls in every room. And not to be a dick, but I was used to the finer things in life, and her apartment was simply below my standards.

She finished her cleanup and closed the registers before she walked out. There were other workers there finishing up in the kitchen, so they would lock the doors after they turned off the lights.

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