Page 1 of His Little Sapphire

Prologue

Christine

“Wait. You’re Chris?” Zack, the manager of Club Zoom asks.

“Yes, Sir.” I sit as tall as I can, trying not to fidget. Hopefully he can’t see my hands wringing in my lap from across his desk.

Zack frowns and shakes his head. “I’m sorry. I assumed you were a man. Did you notice on the application that I’m looking for a man?”

I nod. “Yes, Sir. But I can do the job as well or better than a man. I promise. I’ve been cleaning businesses for a long time. I’m strong and hard working.”

He continues to frown, rubbing his chin. “I don’t doubt your abilities, Chris, but I can’t hire a woman to work here.” He taps the application. “That’s why the form saysmale applicants only.”

I clear my throat.Be brave. “That’s kind of sexist, don’t you think? Possibly even discriminatory.”

He winces and runs a hand down his face. “Look, Chris. It’s not personal. I don’t care who does the job, but I can’t have anyone female in this building. Not even for a delivery. Do you know what Club Zoom is for?”

I nod. “Everyone knows what happens at Club Zoom. I don’t live under a rock.” I kind of do. But it’s not a boulder.

He leans forward, setting his elbows on the desk. “Chris…”

“Christine or Chrissy. No one calls me Chris. I’m going to assume you didn’t have any other applicants, or I wouldn’t be sitting here. You need someone to clean the club after hours. I’m your gal. I won’t let you down.”

He shakes his head slowly. “You won’t be able to keep from letting me down, Christine. Don’t you understand that? If I hired women to work here, my turnover would be too high. I’d likely lose every one to Eleadia and have to replace them and train someone new. That’s not good business.”

I take a deep breath. “Look, Mr… uh Zack.” He didn’t give me his last name. I glance down at myself. “Do I look like the sort of person men fawn over? I get it. Men come here from Eleadia to find a wife. Everyone knows that. And I know women come to the club hoping to get chosen or hoping to get a glimpse of these men. But seriously, Zack. You don’t have to worry about me.”

His eyebrows rise, and he smirks. “Christine. I think you need to look in a mirror. Just because your hair is pulled back, you don’t have on makeup, and you’re wearing a ball cap doesn’t mean you’ve successfully hidden your beauty.”

I flinch. Is he serious? Me?

He continues, “Eleadian men are discerning. In my experience, they don’t care much for women with boob jobs, hundreds of dollars’ worth of clothing and makeup, fancy hairdos, or fake smiles.”

I’m kind of shocked by his insinuation, but it doesn’t matter. I’m not stupid. I know I’m not a catch. I’m just me. Chrissy. No one special. Nothing special has ever happened to me. I’ve worked myself to the bone for as long as I can remember. I don’t have time for anything else.

No one glances at me twice. Why would they? And even if they did, I’ve never had time for dalliances. I’ll be fifty before I’ll have a chance to sit down and enjoy a cup of coffee—a comical thought since I’ve never had coffee. I’m twenty-five now.

I glance at the application in front of me. “You indicated the job is after hours. When the club is closed.”

He nods. “Yes.”

“Then won’t the men be sleeping after partying all night with glamorous women?” I smile. “I assume Eleadian men sleep.”

He chuckles. “They do, but I can’t promise they would never wander down here in the night. They aren’t confined to their apartments above the club. They’re free to roam the building as long as they don’t leave the premises.”

“Okay, but that’s not likely. If I started work at three AM and left by nine, chances are incredibly slim I would ever encounter anyone. And even if I did, chances are even slimmer that man would suddenly decide he likes mousy, skinny women in baggy clothes and a ball cap,” I challenge.

I started wearing jeans and oversized shirts after my mother died. She’s probably rolling over in her grave, but she doesn’t have a say in my clothing selection anymore, and I seriously doubt God would want me to be uncomfortable while I work.

Zack groans. Excellent. I’m wearing him down.

“Look. I feel confident no one else has applied for this job. If they had, you wouldn’t be entertaining this idea at all. You need me. I need this job. I’m qualified. I will prove myself. Your club will be sparkling clean every single evening when you open. Bathrooms. Bar area. Floors. Every inch. Nothing will happen. If by chance one of your guests wanders down to the club level while I’m working, I’ll keep my head down and not meet their gaze. You’ll see. It will be fine.”

He sighs and stares at me.

I know I’ve won this battle, and I grin. I need this job badly. It pays well. I need the money. Zack must have a screw lose if he thinks any of the presumably sexiest men in the universe would glance at me twice. They won’t. I know it.

Zack opens a drawer and pulls out a file folder. “You’ll need to sign the same waiver every other woman does when she enters the club. I shouldn’t have even interviewed you without it.”

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