Page 57 of Hunt

“S-sorry,” she repeated as her cheeks burned red. “Sorry.”

I let her stand there holding the tray for a few seconds as she waited for me to tell her where to put it. Then, as if she were stupid, I said, “Here,” pointing to the desk before me. Even though she had just put it there, I made her take it away again.

Dithering for fear that I would change my mind again, she placed the tray in front of me, and again, I was gifted with a whiff of her subtle perfume. I had to muster as much strength as possible not to nestle my nose in the curve of her neck.

“You took long enough,” I snarled as she stepped away, eager to leave. “Wait.”

Her feet froze, and she turned back to face me, as the color drained from her face, going from pink cheeks to sheet white. “Is there anything else, sir?”

“Yes. Two things,” I started taking the cover off my plate. “One. If this is cold because you took a long time to pass it to me, you’ll return to the kitchen to bring me another plate.”

“Yes, sir,” her voice was so soft and shaky, but I caught a flint of irritation in her eye, a tiny taste of rebelliousness. How far did I have to push it to see the anarchy in her face and the defiance on her tongue?

“Do you have an update?” I asked her, noticing the smooth skin of her forearms that disappeared under the polo-neck kitchen uniform. Thin wrists led to twitching fingers that she cupped as soon as she noticed me looking at them.

“An update?” she was confused. It was an ugly uniform, but our members never saw the staff who wore it anyway.

“Yes, an update on whether you have any information to share,” I clarified.

“No,” she shook her head. “Honestly, all I’m hearing is work talk about work.” She stuttered on her words, and I found her so endearing. “I mean work talk about food prep, dishwasher emptying, and all that.”

“Right,” I said, picking up one of the marinated lamb chops on my plate and biting into the meat.

She added, “It’s busy and noisy, so it’s not easy overhearing conversations most of the time, unless it’s an order barked at me or someone else.”

“Fine,” I responded, swallowing the meat.

“Is it okay?” she asked me, watching me eat.

“Very good.”

“Not cold?” She seemed eager to please me, which I liked.

So, she was endearing, smelled lovely, eager to please, and let’s face it, she’d look great naked. The attributes were adding up, where I wasalmoststarting to see what Gunner and Rinan saw in her. Almost.

I locked my gaze into her terrified eyes behind glasses. “It’s perfect.”

She exhaled in a gush as if she was holding her breath and smiled, looking relieved, and a tingle in my crotch made me flinch. No. I wasn’t traveling down that road. I was not touching a girl who was not only a staff member, but the apple in the eyes of Gunner and Ronan, and a possible enemy. Three strikes were against her, but that smile did something to me.

Dropping my eyes to seem indifferent, I told her, “You can go now.” But as she walked to the door, I had to watch her go. I had eye up that butt moving in those ugly black dress pants and I could tell she was smiling without seeing her face. She was happy that I was happy.

“Thank you,” she said breathlessly. Then she closed the door on me, and I paused to listen to the rattling trolley being wheeled to the elevator go distant, and then silence.

The silence hit me hard. Sitting in an empty space alone, eating lamb chops. I was released from one prison to create another self-imposed crate, but a crate that contained expensive whiskey, cigars, and a pretty girl who delivered my meal most evenings.

Silence.

Rejecting this descending gloom or whatever it was, I pushed my chair back, grabbed my tray, and left my office to sit in the lounge room opposite. At least I could sidetrack myself with the busyness down on the floor, and later on, the girls dancing.

I swiped for Freddie’s number to ask him to organize a girl for tonight, but I couldn’t go through with it. I couldn’t bear to press send and tossed my phone onto the leather seat beside me. What was going on here? You’d think after three years without sex, I’d fuck anything with a pulse, yet the yearning wasn’t there. The urge to fuck was there, but desire to go through with it wasn’t.

Maybe I needed to see a doctor or a shrink? No. I just needed a distraction. Even though there was plenty to look at on the floor, my mind focused on her, smelling and looking like a dream.

Jeezus, was I losing my fucking mind? That’s the girl Gunner and Ronan fucked. Stay away from her, if you knew what was good for you, Mikky, I told myself. Except it was fun taunting her into submission, and then that smile… changed the entire look of her face. Cute plump cheeks, twinkling eyes. Lit up an entire room. Lit upmyroom. She didn’t laugh, though, not the way she laughed with Ronan. Maybe I should try to make her laugh next time.

How exactly does one make a girl laugh? That was a question I had never asked in all my years of dating, because accessing women was always effortless. No need to crack jokes and go to great efforts to woo when my date was bought and paid for. A high-class whore ordered the day before at great expense, with no emotional exchange and no trouble.

The club floor was pumping as the regular members sat in their usual places, casting bets, their hard-earned cash going down the plughole, or more accurately, into the club’s bank account. Waitresses came and went from the kitchen carrying white plates loaded with the best cuisine in the city, bar staff poured drinks, and gentle jazz music played in the background that would be ramped up later on when the dance girls glided out.

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