Page 1 of Protected By Saint

Chapter One

Jade

This is nothing like any interview I’ve done before. For one, it’s happening in a cramped office filled with piles of old coats and forgotten office supplies—the kind of space where files go to die. The air is thick with the scent of sweat and stale coffee. Seated at the worn desk in the middle of the room is a man who’s barely looked up at me since I walked in. He seems oblivious to my presence as he rummages through drawers, searching for something.

When I was brought to this office, I had no idea what to expect, but it was definitely not this. Maybe if I didn’t need this job, I would have thought twice before walking inside, but I do. My roommate assured me that this place has the kind of schedule that would allow me to go to college and still work enough hours to pay my bills.

I shift nervously in my seat, trying my best to focus on what brought me here, but I can’t help but notice the clutter around me. It’s suffocating. Stacks of papers teeter precariously on the small desk, a forgotten jacket hangs on the back of the door, and a single dirty window barely lets any light in. The contrast between this office and the opulence of the club beyond it is shocking.

I should say something, right?

Surely there’s no way he’s forgotten I’m here. The room is the size of a closet, and there are only two of us in here. Well, that and the moths circling the single light in the room.

I clear my throat, running my shaky hands over my lap as I attempt to draw attention to myself. But the man barely looks up, cursing under his breath as he opens one drawer after another. I’m starting to rethink my decision to come here when he suddenly claps, the sound nearly sending me toppling off my seat. He makes a triumphant sound as he reaches into the drawer, so I assume that he’s found what he was looking for.

“About fucking time!” he hisses, and I curiously peek around to see him reach in for a pack of cigarettes and pop one between his lips. He then proceeds to pat all his clothes before grabbing a lighter from his jacket pocket. I fight the urge to wrinkle my nose as he lights the cigarette, clicking the lighter shut as he exhales right into my face.

I clear my throat once more, and this time, his eyes shift to mine. I get a better look at the man for the first time since walking into the room, and I bite back a surprised gasp at what I see. His eyes are bloodshot with an unsettling intensity in them. There is something cold and lifeless about his dark gaze, but it’s the way he trails them over me that sends a cold shiver rolling down my back. I fight the urge to tug down the short black dress I’m wearing. I didn’t exactly want to come to an interview wearing such a revealing dress, but my roommate Natalie insisted that I needed to wear it since I would be working at a club and expected to wear something similar.

“The server’s uniforms are all short. You need to stop being such a prude if you want to get hired,” she’d told me when I pointed out how uncomfortable I felt wearing something so revealing. “This is not a corporate job, Jade. No one will hire you if you show up dressed like a nun.”

Her words made sense at the time, but maybe I should have fought her on it a little more. Now I have to sit still as this stranger runs his eyes over my body and pretend it’s normal.

When the man lifts his gaze back to mine, I read something akin to excitement in those dark eyes that is unnerving for some reason, but I push back my fear. My roommate sent me to this man, and if she trusts him, then I have no reason not to. I know better than to judge a book by its cover.

Pushing down my nerves, I flash the man a smile and sit up straight. “Mr. Buck, I’m here about the server job. My name is Jade Purdy, and I was sent here by Natalie—”

“Ah yes, Natalie told me about you,” he says, blowing thick smoke into the air, nearly suffocating me, but I fight back the urge to cough. “She forgot to mention that you are a little skinny, but I guess we can look past that with such a pretty face and a hot rack like yours. Are those real?” he asks, nodding toward my chest.

I blink at the man, taken aback by his crude words, but Natalie did tell me to not act surprised if he did or said something weird. I am, after all, interviewing to work as a server in one of the most exclusive clubs in the city known for its sexy atmosphere. I suppose the manager of such a place would be a bit vulgar, and it’s something I’m going to have to get used to.

I can do this!

A few comments about my body and face should not set me off. I’ll probably have to get used to that kind of language if I am to survive working here.

“Mr. Buck—”

“How old did you say you are?”

I didn’t. “Twenty-one, sir.”

“Buck,” he cuts in. “But you don’t need to worry about that. It’s not my name you’ll be screaming tonight anyway.” There is a smirk on his lips that I respond to with an awkward smile, unsure what the joke is.

My brows draw in confusion. Does he mean that I’ll be working under a different manager? Oh, thank God. I hope it’s someone less crude who doesn’t look at me the way this man does. I realize I’m focusing on the wrong thing and completely forgetting the fact that he just mentioned working tonight. Excitement bubbles inside of me as I lean forward. “Mr—Sorry, I mean Buck. Do you mean that I can start work now?”

His eyes narrow on mine. “Is that going to be a problem?”

“Not at all,” I hurry to say, running a hand through my hair the way I do whenever I am nervous or excited. Right now, I’m both. I didn’t expect to get the job when he hasn’t even looked at my resume. He and Natalie must be good friends if he trusts her recommendation so easily. “I’m just a little taken aback because you haven’t really asked me about my past experience.”

Something dark crosses his expression, and he sits up, eyes flaring with rage as he leans forward. “I was told you have no experience.”

“Not in this field,” I explain. “Natalie assured me that she’d told you a bit about my previous employment. I’ve never worked as a server at a club before, but I’ve worked as a waitress, and there isn’t much difference between the two. Right?” At least I hope there’s not.

The dark expression on Buck’s face stays as his cigarette is suspended between his fingers, spilling ash onto the mountain of files lying on the desk. I am half terrified that I’ve said something wrong given his hard expression, so I hurry to assure the man that he doesn’t have to worry about me. I really need this job, so I want him to know that I’m qualified for it.

“I brought with me a hard copy of my resume, but I can email you a soft copy as well,” I say, placing the file I brought with me on top of the other clutter on of his desk and slowly pushing it toward him. “I’ll give you a little background about myself. I come from Petersburg; it’s a small town about two hundred miles from the city. Before coming to Chicago, I worked as a waitress at a restaurant back home and got along pretty well with the customers. I’ve also…” my voice trails off when I notice his gaze narrowing in anger. “I’m sorry, D-did I say something wrong?”

“Is this some kind of joke?”

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