Page 14 of Secret Twins for the Alien Dad

My heart sinks. When the boss wants to see you, it’s rarely because he wants to tell you that you’re an invaluable employee and to keep up the good work. I leave the flowers on the kitchenette counter and wordlessly follow Zerg to his office.

Brev sits at his desk with his fingers steepled. “Myra, come in. Zerg, make sure we have no intrusions.”

I swallow, my throat desert dry. “You wanted to see me, sir?” I ask meekly.

He gestures for me to sit down. I comply, hiding my hands in my lap so that he won’t see them shaking. With a sigh, he pulls out a large comm-pad with the casino’s logo embossed on the back. “Do you know what this is?”

“A, uh, hotel comm-pad, sir.”

“You’re right,” he says, his voice high with mock praise as though I was a child learning the alphabet. “Do you know that we keep one in every room? It’s for the convenience of our guests, you see. Sometimes, they lose their own pads, either because they use them as collateral in a game or just simple carelessness. So, we provide them with some of our own. For their convenience, of course. And if they access their bank accounts or other important files on it and someone uses or sells that information, well, that’s on them for failing to practice proper cyber security. It would be a shame, though, if someone got their hands on it. Could sully the reputation of this upstanding establishment. Are you seeing what I’m saying?”

I stare at him blankly, unsure what he wants from me. “S-sir?”

Annoyed, he pulls up a hologram of security footage from this morning as I tip-toe suspiciously from a place where I very much did not belong. Fuck.

“Today, housekeeping reported one of our comm-pads missing from a room,” he says. “And here you are sneaking through the halls. Care to explain what you’re doing here?”

My face flushes a deep crimson. “I-I-it’s not what you think, I swear.”

He tilts his head, waiting for me to continue.

Better to just tell him. If he thinks I’m a thief, well, I just hope he doesn’t really think I’m a thief. Taking a slow, stuttering breath. “I met one of your guests last night. We had some fun together, and then went to his room for, well…”

He raised his eyebrows. “I have to say, that isn’t very professional, Myra.”

“I’m sorry, sir. It won’t happen again,” I lie.

“And this guest can verify your whereabouts for the whole night?”

I swallow. “Yes.”

He leans back in his chair, regarding me with half-lidded eyes. “Well, I suppose we’ll see about that. You do know what would happen if you stole my property, right?”

I nod, suppressing a full body shudder. People on Brev’s shitlist usually find themselves either tragically missing or dead soon after.

His gaze turns to leering. “And if youdidn’tsteal, then it looks like I’m not getting my money’s worth from you. If you’re really that much of an easy lay, maybe you should be a dancer instead of a card girl.”

My heart stutters in my chest. He’d promised that I wouldn’t have to do that when he brought me here. But I guess that’s on me for believing the word of someone like him. My eyes betray me, prickling with unshed tears, and it takes all my focus to stop hyperventilating.

“Good talk,” he says, waving his hand in an obvious dismissal.

Wordlessly, I get to my feet, pass Zerg as he stands guard in the doorway, and head to my table. Panic would be useless, so I refuse to panic. I will get to work like I’m supposed to, and then I will figure out what to do when I get back to my apartment tonight.

Kara looks up at me from her dealing with concern in her green eyes. “Are you okay?” she asks and then drops to a whisper. “Did he hurt you?”

Shaking my head, I force a smile. “I’m fine. Thanks for taking over.”

“Myra,” she begins, but I cut her off with a shake of my head.

Not here, please.

With a sigh, she moves aside and gives me back my table. Before she leaves, she brings her lips to my ear and whispers again. “If you need anything, please tell me. We all gotta look out for each other here, right?”

“Right.” I squeeze her shoulder again in gratitude and nod. “You don’t have to worry about me. I’ll be okay.”

It’s a lie. There’s a good chance I’ll be dead or facing an unwanted career change by the end of the week. But maybe if I repeat it to myself enough, it will come true.

Hah. Yeah right.

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