Boss Daddy, page 2
Gray shot him a look but didn’t say anything. He knew better than to question him when they were in front of others. Gray was like his son; the others were his men. He would do his best to protect them, but there was a difference.
And Gray might be bigger and badder than most people out there. However, there was always someone who was stronger, smarter, and more evil.
Markovich had discovered that the hard way. He’d thought he was the biggest Devil in his home country.
Until someone killed his wife and took his daughter.
And so he’d learned to not let many people into his heart.
A bullet could kill, it didn’t matter how strong you were. Markovich would ensure that never happened to anyone he loved again.
2
Dahlia was close shattering.
And all it would take is one more person brushing up against her.
She was such a jittery mess that she’d already dropped three glasses and an entire plate of spicy chicken wings. She’d be amazed if she still had a job by the end of the night.
Why had she thought she could do this? She couldn’t handle people touching her or crowds or the dark . . . yeah, it was a wonder she was still functioning.
She’d stupidly thought that as long as no one grabbed her, she’d be fine.
And you really thought that if you got a job at a bar called Suck ‘n Blow, no one would touch you?
Although to be fair, when she’d applied for the job, the manager had told her that the safety of the staff was taken seriously. Which had made her think she’d be okay.
It seemed not. Even accidental touches were causing her skin to crawl and her stomach to churn.
She just really needed the money. Okay, so she wasn’t desperate. She had other resources. She just didn’t like using them.
She picked up the tip left on the table she was clearing.
Two dollars. Seriously? These guys had ordered over a hundred dollars in drinks and food and had sat at this table in her section for hours. Shaking her head, she pocketed the tip and carried the dirty glasses back to the kitchen.
“Come on, Dahlia, you need to move faster,” the manager chided with a frown.
Larissa was a bit of a slave driver. And it felt like she had eyes everywhere. Honestly, she should have been a daycare teacher or something. Then again, she’d probably scare all the kids.
I can’t do this.
I can’t do this.
Buck up, Dahlia. Stop being weak.
She wished she was stronger than this. Larissa slipped out the back door, probably for a smoke break. Dahlia took a moment to rub her bare arms. Maybe she could go wash her hands. But she’d already had her break.
After a few deep breaths, she managed to calm herself enough that she thought she could go back out there without vomiting.
Maybe you should have taken your meds.
But she hated taking them. Hated how confused and docile they made her. How vulnerable.
She didn’t ever want to be vulnerable again.
Dahlia glanced at the back door where Larissa had slipped outside. She wondered if she knew the dangers of smoking.
Not your business. You do not have to save everyone.
Plus, Larissa would likely tell her to shut the fuck up.
Then fire her.
She was kind of surprised she hadn’t already.
When she got out to the bar, she saw Eddy, the bartender, hunched over a drink. What was he doing?
“You okay, Eddy?” she asked.
He startled and glanced over. Did he just slide something into his pocket? What was he doing, and why did he look so nervous?
“What? Nothing. Why?”
“I don’t know. You look stressed. Can I help you with anything?” Maybe she’d be better at mixing drinks than she would be at serving them.
“No, I’m, uh, just looking for a waitress to take this drink over to the boss.”
The boss?
“Um, I’m a waitress.” She glanced down at her uniform. Yep, it was still on.
Thank goodness. She often had that nightmare where all her clothes just disappeared.
How awful would it be to have that happen in real life?
But no, she was still wearing the tight black T-shirt with Suck ‘n Blow’s logo on it and her own shorts.
She really wished she’d worn her sneakers. Larissa had told her to wear high heels to get bigger tips. And she’d given her a top that was a size too small.
Now her feet were aching, her skin was crawling, and she barely had any tips.
“Um, yeah, but I meant someone with more experience.”
Right. Because she had none.
And you’re shit at this job. Really, really bad.
“I’ll see if I can find someone,” she told him.
“No, no, actually, you’re perfect,” he replied. “Listen, this is going to Mr. Markovich, who owns this place. So just, don’t fuck it up, all right?”
She stared at him in horror. “The big boss?”
“Babe, bigger than you can ever know. He’s over in the VIP section.”
They had a VIP section? That hadn’t been on the tour.
Probably because Larissa would never let you near it.
“It’s the table in the back corner, you can’t see it from here. But when you get close, a big guy in a suit will likely come forward to stop you. Just tell him that Eddy sent you.”
She nodded. Then she looked at the glass of bourbon and picked it up carefully.
“Don’t worry, Eddy. I’ll get it there safely. You can depend on me.” She gave him a salute.
He gave her a strange look.
She had a feeling that she and Eddy were going to be great friends.
Now, she just had to be super-duper careful to get the glass of bourbon there without spilling it or dropping it. Or doing anything else equally disastrous.
She wasn’t sure what else could go wrong. But if there was something, it would likely happen to her.
Graceful and well-balanced, she was not.
Clumsy and accident-prone? Definitely.
But to her shock, she managed to navigate her way through the crowded bar without touching anyone. She slipped around the drunk guy throwing his arms around as he acted out some hilarious story. She stepped over the large leg that popped out into her path. And she glided around someone who stepped into her way.
Honestly, maybe those ballet lessons her mother had insisted on were finally paying off.
By the time she got to the dark corner, she was sweating but smiling triumphantly.
Pfft. She totally had this waitressing thing down. What was she even worried about? She might become the best waitress in here.
She conveniently ignored the fact that she’d made less than ten dollars in tips the whole night.
As she grew close to the VIP table, an enormous man with a shaved head stepped forward. She stared up into his craggy face in awe. Wow. He had an interesting face. It looked like his nose had been broken more than once.
“Do you have to get your suits tailored? Because they can’t come off the rack.”
He blinked down at her. “What?”
“Hmm? Oh, never mind. It doesn’t matter. I have a drink.” She held it up.
He just stared at her some more.
“Uh, for your boss? I am in the right place, aren’t I? Oh, wait. Eddy said to tell you that he sent me. So, the drink?”
The man looked over her head. She glanced over her shoulder. Where was he looking? At the bar? She couldn’t see Eddy from here.
“Turn around.”
She turned, giving him her back.
“Right around,” he said.
“Oh, whoops. Sorry. Why?” She eyed him. “Were you checking out my ass?”
His eyebrows rose. “No. Checking for weapons.”
“Shouldn’t you do a pat-down?” she asked.
He made a scoffing noise. “Where you going to hide them?”
That was a good point. Her clothing was skin tight. Still . . .
“I mean, maybe I have a knife in my hair?” Not very likely since her hair was a short bob. “Or between my boobs.” Which were fairly non-existent. “Or my butt cheeks. Actually, scratch that. There’s no way I’d put a knife down there. And it’s not easy access anyway.”
The guy was gaping at her.
Yeah. She didn’t blame him. She had issues.
“Sorry. Too much TV. Although you do know someone could likely shoot him from the dance floor. Hmm, it is hard to see in here, though, so maybe not. Unless they had night-vision goggles. But who has those? You know what, I’m going to shut up now. Here you go.” She handed him the glass. Or tried to.
Instead of taking it, he waved her on.
Uh, was that normal?
“Shouldn’t you take it through to him?” And boy, talk about being paranoid. Who was this guy that he needed a guard and was worried about someone getting close to him with a weapon? Shouldn’t he send his guard to get his drink?
“Can’t leave my post. Go.”
Well, okay. He didn’t need to be so abrupt. Sheesh.
Stepping past him, she walked toward the corner where an older man sat with his head bent as he did something on his phone. His dark hair was generously interspersed with gray and he wore a dark shirt and pants.
“Hi! I have your drink.”
He frowned, glancing up at her. Whoa. Those eyes were cold and guarded. She froze feeling like prey who’d just realized there was danger. Her heart beat frantically as she stared down at him.
What was she doing here? This was her first night. What was Eddy thinking? Why hadn’t he brought the drink over?
The boss turned his gaze toward his guard. “Rex let you pass?”
“Shouldn’t he have?”
“No, it’s fine.”
Reaching out, he took hold of the drink. His fingers wrapped around her hand and she froze, unwilling to let the glass go.
A zing of warmth and arousal rushed up her spine. Wow. That was weird. She couldn’t ever remember having a reaction like this before.
And she wasn’t certain it was wanted.
He tried to pull the glass from her hand.
But for some reason, she couldn’t let it go. What was wrong with her?
He frowned at her. “Is there something wrong?”
“Wrong? No, there’s nothing wrong with me,” she said defensively. “Why?”
“Because you won’t let me have my bourbon,” he said in a low voice that made her shiver.
“Oh, right. Sorry.” She hastily let go of the glass. Thankfully, he had a hold of it already, so it didn’t smash to the floor.
Jeez, Dahlia. You idiot.
She stepped back. “Well, uh, thank you.”
He blinked.
Wait. Why was she thanking him? He should thank her, right? Kind of rude that he hadn’t.
No wonder Larissa was a bit of a bitch if she had to deal with this guy all the time.
“You’re new here.”
“Yep, first night,” she said cheerfully. “Gotta go. My boss is a hard ass.” She winced. Shit. “Not you! I don’t know you. I mean, you might be a hard ass. But I meant Larissa.”
His eyebrows rose.
“Not that I’m complaining. Nope, not me. She just, uh, likes things a certain way.” And she liked her staff to always be out in the bar rather than hiding in the back or washing their hands continuously. Seemed unfair that she could go out for a smoke whenever she wanted, but Dahlia had to wait to pee.
“I’ve got a really small bladder, so it’s hard to hold on.”
“What?” the man asked.
“What?” she repeated.
“Did you just say something about having an abnormally small bladder?”
Oh, flip. Had she?
“I definitely did not say anything about having a small bladder. Bye, gotta go. Good chat.”
She turned, but this bad feeling came over her.
Scenes flew through her head. Eddy leaning over the glass of bourbon. Something in his hand. Something that he’d poured into the drink.
That she’d just served her new boss.
“No! Wait!” she yelled as she turned and launched herself at the gorgeous, older man. Who had the glass pressed to his lips. She smacked it out of his hand, the glass smashing on the ground as she landed on his lap. Face down.
Wow. Was this the most embarrassing situation she’d ever found herself in?
Eh. Likely not. But it was up there.
She scrambled to get up, but the man pressed his large hand onto the small of her back.
Oh, no. Oh, no.
She could feel the panic creeping up her throat.
“Boss?” a deep voice asked. Turning her head, she saw Rex standing there, with his gun drawn.
Oh, holy fuck.
“I’m too young to die!” she cried out. “I’ve barely done anything on my bucket list! I haven’t seen a bear or taken a hot air balloon or ridden a mechanical bull or a real bull. I haven’t experienced anything kinky. Don’t you think I should try something kinky before I die?”
Not that sex held much appeal. But a girl could fantasize. Especially when she had a vibrator and a sexy book.
All of a sudden, she became aware that both men were silent. And that neither of them had moved.
She glanced back at the man with the gun. He was staring down at her in horror. Then his gaze moved to his boss, who was holding her over his lap.
Her skin was crawling. Nausea bubbled in her stomach.
Free. She had to get free.
“Please let me go, please,” she begged, trying to fight her way off his lap. Her breath started to come in sharp pants. Panic raced through her.
Let me go. Let me go. Let me go.
She didn’t know if the words were just in her head or if she was saying them out loud. But suddenly, he lifted his hand and she slid off until she was kneeling on the floor.
Ouch. Her knees slammed into the wooden floor. The pain helped cut through some of her panic. She leaned forward, then realized her face was practically in his crotch.
Dear. Lord.
She moved her head back. Fast.
“Easy, let me help you up before you hurt yourself. Or me.” He lifted her to sit on the table.
No!
She attempted to get down, but he placed a hand on her thigh.
“Did you land on any of the glass?” He ran his hand down one knee and then the other, but she couldn’t feel any pain. “Seems to be okay, but you need to be more careful, hear me?”
Whoa.
Was he always this bossy?
Staring down at the large hand that was resting on her thigh, she tried not to let the memories assault her. Tried to fight back the feelings.
But they were clawing their way in deep. Setting their talons into her skin and not letting go.
She shouldn’t be here. She should never have taken this job.
Idiot.
“Boss? You want me to take her out of here?”
“No, Rex. You can go back to your post. Did anyone hear the glass smash?”
“Doesn’t look like it. But you sure you want her to stay? She just attacked you. Let me take her.”
“I think I can handle one tiny female. I’m fine. Go.”
The authority in his voice surprisingly cut through her panic. Shit. What was she doing?
Get out of here, Dahlia.
“Stay still,” he commanded. “No, you’re not going anywhere. Eyes on me.”
No way. She wasn’t looking up. She was barely holding herself together.
“Eyes on me.”
Crap. Before she could stop herself, her gaze rose to his. How did he do that?
“That’s better. Uh-uh, don’t you look away. Your job is to keep your eyes on mine and breathe. That’s it. In. Out. Slow your breathing. Good girl. Keep going. No, eyes on mine. You’re not very good at following orders, are you?”
Pfft. Why would she want to follow orders?
“In. Out. That’s better. All right, I’m going to let go of you now. But you’re going to stay right where you are, understand me?”
She eyed him suspiciously. There was something about him. Something that screamed danger. And yet, for some stupid reason, her body wasn’t interested in listening to that warning. Because she found herself wanting to lean into him, to draw on his warmth and confidence.
He lifted his hands from her legs and instead of feeling relieved, she felt bereft.
Stupid girl.
You just had a panic attack because he wouldn’t let you up, and now you want him to keep touching you?
Make up your mind.
“Good girl.” The way he said ‘good girl’ made her want to bask in his praise.
And do whatever she had to in order to earn more of it.
“You’re all right now?”
“Probably depends on your definition of all right,” she replied. Her voice was soft, almost broken, and she cleared her throat.
Way to act strong and tough, Dahlia.
“Are you still feeling panicked? Is your chest still tight? Are you feeling ill?”
“Um, oh, well. No, I’m all right.”
Well, she felt drained. Exhausted. But she wasn’t used to being on her feet this long. Or staying up this late.
And panic attacks tended to tire her. Although this barely rated on her scale of panic attacks.
In fact, she’d never come out of one so quickly or easily.
Because of him.
Huh. He’d brought her out of the attack quickly. Was he used to helping panic-stricken waitresses? Because normally, anyone who was around her when she started to panic did one of two things, freaked out themselves or told her to snap out of it.
He hadn’t seemed concerned or worried. But he also hadn’t been patronizing or impatient.
“Marry me.”
“What?” He gaped at her.
“What?” she parroted back. Because there was no way that she’d just said what she did. That would be beyond embarrassing. It would go into the realms of mortification.
“You just told me to marry you.”
“No, I didn’t. I just, um, I was thinking that you were really good at helping me just now. Have you dealt with someone who had panic attacks before?”
“Ah, yes. My wife used to have them sometimes.”
