Page 15 of Promiscuous Lies

“Yes.”

“And what did you find?” His voice is like honey, coaxing in a way that probably makes many people fall for his charm. I’m not that type, though.

“That you come from money. And you opened this place yourself to escape your father’s businesses. There’s speculation you’re attached to the Italian mafia as well. Killed anyone lately?” I ask rhetorically.

He smirks. “Are you asking for my body count? And who can trust those gossip blogs? Nasty little things, they are.”

“Okay, so tell me the truth.” I don’t expect this man to give me a lick of truth because why should he?

“The truth, huh? Okay. Your first question was who I last fucked. Last month, I met a girl named Tamina. We attended the same function, and I took her out the back door of the event, fucked her in the alley, and went about my night. Since then, no one. I’ve been too busy.”

“A man too busy for sex? That’s a first,” I mumble into my glass as I take another sip.

“I’m constantly surrounded by sex,” he says matter-of-factly.

“Yes. I suppose you are.” I take another sip, unsettled by how he stares at me even when I watch the others. “Do you fuck your employees?” I ask, and finally look up at him.

“No, I do not.”

A relieved sigh escapes me, and I glance away, hoping he didn’t notice. But he did.

“That appeases you. Tell me, Posie, did you think I wanted to fuck you?”

“I never said that.”

“You didn’t say no either. And I’m certain ‘no’ is your favorite word.”

“I just thought how sad it’d be if the turnover rate of the dancers were high because you can’t keep your dick in your pants.”

He chuckles then, and I’m so surprised that I stare at him in bewilderment. “Oh my God. He understands humor, after all. Frosty the Snowman can actually laugh.”

“You don’t seem to be able to refrain from speaking your unfiltered thoughts to your boss, do you?” I look away, uncomfortable with the mesmerized state I was in simplybecause he chuckled. Jesus, maybe these drinks are more potent than I think.

“Now, since we’re getting to know each other, why don’t you tell me when was the last time you had sex.”

I consider lying. I don’t like that he’s asking personal questions, but I have to take it if I can throw it his way.

“About six years ago.” I don’t usually share that with anyone. It’s the truth, but I also want to rattle him with the information. I’m curious about his reaction, and it disappoints me, to say the least. I expected him to express a bit of surprise, but I got nothing.

“You hate men?” he asks curiously.

“Who said I don’t like men?”

“True. So you hate women?”

I go to take another sip and realize I drank it all. He waves over a waitress, who provides me with another glass and takes the empty one. Damn, is this asshole trying to get me drunk?

But then I glance over at Samantha, who is wearing a bucket on her head, and decide I’m nowhere near drunk.

“I don’t hate women either. I have a lot going on, and my last relationship didn’t really leave me with high hopes.”

“Was it with a man or woman?” I can’t help but smirk at his question. He’s very inquisitive.

“With a man.” I pause, considering the women in front of me. “Though women are beautiful, so I may be in the wrong lane.”

“You aren’t,” is all he says before the security guard near the door waves him down. He excuses himself and walks off. I feel relieved the moment he’s gone, and I don’t entirely understand why he puts me on edge.

CHAPTER 8

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