Pinkie is comfortable and familiar. I don’t really understand why, but being around her just makes me feel at ease—and at peace.
Watching him for a moment, I wonder why he’s really telling me all of this. Why he’s reassuring me at all. Men don’t typically have conversations with me, with any women.
So, after days of just caring for him, of sharing a few short words with him, this surprises me. He lifts his hand and cups my cheek, his skin warm and rough against my own, and I can’t deny that I truly love the way it feels.
“Do you want me to be like her?” I ask, wondering if he wants me to be a clubwhore like she is.
Something flashes in his eyes. They look dangerous and I can’t help but lick my lips at the sight and hold in a shiver of desire. No matter what, no matter how much these men terrify me, there is something to be said about a man who holds danger inside of him so close to the surface.
It’s sexy as shit, which is probably why my life will always be in shambles, because I doubt I’ll ever find that nice suburban man who drives a minivan. It just doesn’t seem like anything I’d ever want to be tied to.
“Never,” he rasps. “But what I want isn’t healthy. So, it doesn’t matter.”
“It does,” I exhale.
His lips twitch into a smile, the danger dies in his eyes and he chuckles as he shakes his head a couple of times.
“No, Sunny, it doesn’t matter. I’ll be back later sometime.”
Without another word, he slowly stands with a long groan and limps out of the room. I watch him go, wondering how he’s going to do anything in the condition that he’s in. I gather my new things and take them to the room where I was staying before Dylan was hurt.
Since I’ve been taking care of him, I’ve been sleeping in the chair in the corner of his room. Now that he’s doing better, I decide that it’s time for me to move back in with the girls. Thankfully, they have an empty bed.
I leave the clothes and bag of toiletries on my bed and head into the bar to find Pinkie. I don’t get far. Dragon is watching me, his gaze penetrating. He shouts my name, then tells me he wants to speak to me in his office.
Gulping, I take in the room and realize that there are only a few people milling around. Pinkie is behind the bar, cleaning, her eyes catching mine and her lips turning up into a reassuring smile. I don’t return the look, my mind spinning with about a million different scenarios of what is about to happen.
“Close the door,” Dragon’s deep voice murmurs from behind his desk.
Closing the door, I don’t lock it, wishing that I could keep it wide open as a means of escape. Inhaling a deep breath, I walk toward the center of the room, standing in front of Dragon’s desk, and I wait.
“You need a job, yeah?” he asks, though he sounds as if he is bored, as if this is something he truly doesn’t give a fuck about.
“I do,” I breathe, wondering what he’s about to offer me.
He clears his throat, leaning back in his chair, his eyes finding mine and holding my gaze. He watches me for a moment and I feel extremely uncomfortable under his scrutinizing gaze. He doesn’t say anything for a long moment, but his mind is working, his eyes are watching and taking me in.
I try not to fidget beneath his intensity. I try not to shift from side to side or beg him to, just fucking get on with it, the way that I want to. I fail completely. He is completely unnerving. Pressing my lips together, I watch him and I wait.
“Pinkie has some stuff at the bar that you could do. Clean, serve drinks, keep track of booze. Shit like that. She’s your boss.”
I continue to hold my breath, waiting for the other shoe to drop. When does he tell me about my other duties? I’m sure that they’re included. There is no way he’s going to let me live here and just clean the bar and serve a few drinks.
“Is that okay?” he asks, his words coming out slowly.
Nodding my head, I release my lips. “And then what happens?” I ask.
“With?” Dragon arches a brow, his lips twitching into a small smile that I can see beneath his beard.
“Me, everything, the future?”
“You’re eighteen today, yeah?” he asks.
My heart starts to slam against my ribs. This is when it comes. This is when he drops the shoe, the hammer, whatever the fuck you want to call it.
Except.
He doesn’t.
“Happy birthday, babe.”
I blink, waiting for him to say something else. Waiting for him to give me the extra duties that I know he’s going to. Waiting for him to tell me that I’m going to have to spread my legs to earn my keep.
“Pinkie’ll take care of you. If you have any problems, let me know.”
It’s clearly my silent go-ahead to leave. Turning from him, I walk toward the door. Lifting my hand to the knob, he calls my name. Letting out a breath, I realize that this is it. Turning my head, I look back over my shoulder at him and wait for the blow.
“Prefer if you didn’t leave the clubhouse. We don’t know where Riot is and I’d hate to see him get ahold of you. Also, no phone calls.”
My eyes widen in surprise. “Oh, okay,” I breathe.
He dips his chin to look down at his desk,
