Page 13 of Stripped

“I'm perfectly capable of walking myself to the door.”

“Then maybe I just want an excuse to put my arm around you.”

I snorted, because that was definitely not flirting. He was just trying to sweet talk me into letting him help me. Even so, I let him walk me to the door and out to my car.

***

The club was quiet and empty. Sinking into the seat behind my desk, I turned on the computer and navigated to my email.

I was stalling, because walking from the car to my office had exhausted me and I needed a little rest. I also might have been a wee bit frightened of seeing the disaster inside. The damage was likely to set the club back for months financially. I'd be eating noodles and bologna until I got us back into the black, because firing anyone or cutting pay wasn't an option.

Carly had stopped in the locker room to make a quick call to Zed. Zane sat in the chair on the other side of my desk, a chair usually occupied by the women who worked for me. Zane filled and overflowed the chair in a way none of the dancers did. He was a big guy, but his presence felt larger, like he filled the whole room and all my senses.

“Are you just going to sit there and watch me work?”

“Best way to keep you safe.”

I sighed. “I'm more worried about my club than me at the moment. Would you mind going out there and watching for Leopold or any of his people who might be looking to start trouble?”

“Only if you go with me. I don't give a damn about your club, I'm here to watch out for you.”

“Fine. In five minutes, I'm going to get off my ass and start cleaning. You can watch me do that.”

“You aren't up for cleaning.”

I glared at him, annoyed because he was right. “I'm the only one who can get this club back together, so how I feel doesn't matter. If we're going to open tomorrow and pass our inspection I have to get off my ass and get to work.”

“So your club will be closed a few days,” he said, his jaw clenched, his hands fisted. “I doubt the world will cry for the loss.”

“You got a problem with my club? With strippers in general? Or just with me?”

He dropped his gaze to his feet. “The women who work here are doing what they have to do to earn a living. Can imagine there'd be better ways to do it, but I don't blame them for choosing this. Not a lot of options in this town.”

“So, your problem is with me? My club?”

He met my gaze. “You sell their sex for a profit. You aren't much better than a pimp.”

I didn't flinch or grimace, even though his words hurt. It wasn't the first time I'd been accused of exploiting the women who worked for me, but I guess I'd expected something different from him. “No woman who works in this club sells literal sexual acts and continues to work here,” I said. “But I have a feeling that's not what you meant. You think because I profit from them taking their clothes off and dancing for an audience I'm exploiting them.” I shook my head. “I could tell you they choose to be here, I could tell you they make a good bit of money themselves…” He raised his eyebrows, unconvinced. “They don't make as much as they'd make in one of the big cities, but they make more than they'd make behind the counter in a retail store or delivering pizzas. I could tell you I try to help them, that I advise them to have an exit plan, to save their money, to never take to heart what anyone says or thinks of them, but I doubt it would change your mind.” I don't know why I cared what he thought of me, but we were going to be stuck together for a while, and I'd never seen the point in pretending to be someone I wasn't. “The truth is, I ask myself what the hell I'm doing all the time. When a woman walks in this office crying because some douche bag said her ass was too big or her tits were too small, I hate that I put women in that position. When I watch a woman come in here every day caring more and more about how she looks, putting more and more stock into whether some asshole wants a lap dance, I tell myself I should quit the business and finally get the hell out of this town.”

“Why don't you?” Zane asked, his jaw loose now, his hands no longer in fists.

“Because Zara was turned down for a promotion last month. It was given to a man who had half her experience and didn't work anywhere near as hard. She has a daughter and a disabled mother who depend on the money she makes here. Because Alice gets paid half of what the man who does the same job next to her gets paid and she wants to save up and start her own business. Because Roxy was told she didn't have the right look to be a bank teller and she wants to save money to move to a city where she's not discriminated against because she has D-cups and pouty lips and platinum blond hair. Every woman I employ has a story, a reason she needs the money she makes here. I figure taking it from men who are easily fleeced by a pretty face and a fake laugh is fair play.”

He opened his mouth to speak, but I held up a hand to stop him.

“Before you say that my club and what we do here just adds to the systemic misogyny against women, I've considered that, too. It's why I want to get out of this business, do something different, but I can't leave when so many women depend on this job, I can't sell the club to someone who might not have any qualms about exploiting them.”

“You don't have a high opinion of men, do you?”

I rolled my eyes. “I'm a man-hating feminist.” My tone was all snark and sarcasm. I'd laid myself bare for this guy and he threw that crap in my face?

He raised his hands and leaned back. “That's not what I meant.” He paused. “Okay, maybe it was what I meant. It was a gut reaction. I'm sorry. I understand you're trying to help the women who work here. I just wonder if there might be another way—”

“I do, too,” I said. “Every single day.”

He stared at his hands for a long moment. When he looked up, his expression was blank. I had no clue if he still thought I was a pimp or if I'd managed to change his mind a little. I told myself I didn't care.

“Do some paperwork,” he said. “I'll stand outside your door and listen for trouble. When you feel up to it, we can walk the perimeter, make sure Leopold's not looking to cause any trouble, and help Carly clean.”

I hated taking orders from anyone, especially a guy who annoyed me and at the same time made me wonder what he looked like naked. I didn't have any room to argue with him, though, since my legs still felt like jelly. “Fine. Let me know if you hear anything, even the slightest sound. Leopold's done enough damage to my club.”

He nodded and walked out, pulling a slim book from his back pocket as he left and closing the door behind him. My office felt larger with him out of it, larger and colder.

I shook off the thought and got to work.

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