Page 10 of Heated Caress

“Absolutely.”

There’s a part of me that’s over outfits like this, over the ogling of men. I have a strict hands-off, no sex policy. It’s why there are no drugs or booze for my girls. I want them in total control. And if they want to make money doing other things, then they can work elsewhere. I’m not about to let anything go on in an actual sexual way, not even in the VIP lounge.

Lap dances, yes. Stripping obviously. Touching of a sexual nature? That’s a huge no.

I shift on my bar stool as Christian’s appearance comes back again, the way he makes my skin tingle, and my blood heat.

The very last thing I want or need is a reaction to a man. And to him?

No.

The fact he’s so hot he could burn things to the ground by just looking at them makes it all that much worse. The fact I’m not immune? The worst of all.

He’d chew me up and spit me out. That’s if he wanted me, of course. Apart from maybe a walk on the forbidden side, or a taste of kink in the shape of the woman who wears her scars so blatantly on the outside, I know he doesn’t. Not the real me.

“They look good. I’d have to see the other one in action, though,” I say, deliberately dragging my head back into the game.

She smiles, waves, and another bartender who’s scheduled for today comes out and does a mini mix-and-match fashion show. Skirt and crop top, then tank and skirt, and finally, crop top and pants. When she’s done, I let her return to get changed into her street gear.

“Works. What can I say?” I offer a half smile, and Lisa wipes down a non-existent mess on the bar.

“I’ve also been asking about the other problem.”

I go still. “And?”

“Look,” she says, setting the rag down and leaning a hip on the bar as she pulls out a sheet of folded paper that she smooths open. I can see the name of the liquor distributor from here. “Call this unsolicited advice you’re not going to like and fire me if you need to.”

“I’m not going to fire you for saying something.”

She nods and continues to smooth the paper. “I’ve worked all over. Here, small towns, Los Angeles, New York, and drugs are going to be part of the job.”

“Not here, they’re not.”

“Your policy, your place, your rules.” Lisa meets my gaze. “I get it, I do, and I make sure that my girls don’t use. Drinks . . . occasionally, bar staff has a drink bought.”

A muscle ticks in my jaw. “I want my ship clean.”

“And they know it, but if someone’s offering drugs, it isn’t to this side of the staff, and the dancers? They aren’t talking.” She straightens up and gets a pen from the other side of the bar and starts ticking off things on the piece of paper. Right over the top of where it’s already been done.

I close the folder and push off my seat. “Thanks.”

“You suspect someone, so why not just take action?”

It isn’t as easy as that. There are connections, and Frank is a transfer from another establishment. You don’t rock boats unless you have a reason. And by reason, I mean evidence.

“Just let me know if anyone says something to you, okay?”

And with that, I go back to my office to work.

* * *

The rest of the day and early evening pass with me locked in my office. I use the quiet time after the flurry of activity during the day and the opening hours to work. The entire time, Christian is there, heavy in my head.

I’m still annoyed Reaper and Angel felt the need to install the panic button I used earlier that morning to summon Andrew. It took me a bit to find it, and yeah, I’m ashamed I resorted to that.

Then again, these men in my life all do what they want, so why not turn something they use to control me—take away some autonomy by way of telling me I’m a vulnerable female—on them?

It’s so small a victory it doesn’t register.

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