Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 99598 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 498(@200wpm)___ 398(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99598 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 498(@200wpm)___ 398(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)
I wasn’t sure I liked him interested, especially if I wanted a job here. “I’d like to work here.”
He shrugged. “Not stepping in the middle, darlin’. This is his call.”
“Boss?” Greg asked, and Brett nodded, which I found out as Greg gently took my elbow, was to do as Killian wanted, and he urged me up the steps.
When we reached the top, we had an audience—Frankie, Sculpt, Emily, and Crisis, who had his arm slung over a stunning blonde girl’s shoulders.
“Nice to see you again, Savvy,” Sculpt said, then cupped the back of Emily’s neck. “This is my wife, Emily.”
Emily smiled, brown eyes curious. “My husband told me you were at the concert last weekend. A friend from high school?”
“Kind of,” I replied.
“I’m Haven,” the blonde girl said, stepping forward and offering her hand. “I saw you dance. You’re incredible.” She reminded me of an angel with her slight frame and beautiful, flawless white skin.
“Thank you.”
My gaze shifted to Frankie, who had her arms crossed over her chest, hip cocked, standing next to Sculpt who made her scariness evaporate because he was a tall, muscled guy and I knew his past and had seen him fight.
“You did great,” Frankie said.
“Thanks.” I did. I knew I did because I felt it.
“You have the job.” My excitement lasted about the same time as a flash of lightning. “If Kite says yes and by the looks of whatever was said downstairs, that probably isn’t going to happen.”
And defeat. My shoulders slumped, and I saw everything slowly slipping through my fingers. Losing my apartment, my car, any hope of ever owning my own dance studio. It didn’t depend on this job, but it sure felt like it because the last six months had been shit, and everything was piling up.
“Don’t you dare,” Frankie said, her tone gruff and hard. “You fought for this job. You wanted it, and you showed me you wanted it. Now, show him.” I heard Sculpt clear his throat, and Frankie rolled her eyes at him. “I know there’s history, but I don’t give a shit. Kite’s being a dick.”
Sculpt replied, “Maybe, but he owns half this club and that history you don’t understand.”
“It’s Brett’s too, and they are my girls. Compass is known for the best club dancers for a reason. He needs to get over whatever is fucking with his brain and see her as a dancer. A great dancer.”
“Oh, he sees her alright,” Crisis said, grinning.
Frankie looked back at me. “Fight for it.”
Sculpt shook his head. “Frankie, you don’t know what you’re messing with. I’ve never seen Kite like this.” And that was the second time someone said that.
She shrugged. “I have a feeling Savvy can handle herself.” Then Frankie reached out and lightly squeezed my hand before she walked down the stairs.
Greg put his hand on the small of my back and urged me forward as I said, “Nice to meet you, Emily and Haven.”
“You, too. I expect we’ll see you again soon,” Emily replied.
Greg waited outside the dressing room while I changed into my jeans and T-shirt. He then escorted me down the hall into an office.
The walls were gray like the club, but the floors were a distressed hardwood. There was a desk with iron legs, a shiny metal surface, and two mahogany drawers on one side. Two chairs sat in front of the desk and a floor-to-ceiling wood cabinet on the opposite side of the room with hardcover books and a couple of plaques. There was a small window to the right and another the length of the room, which overlooked the dance floor. Since I’d been on the dance floor, I knew you couldn’t see into the office from the other side.
“Sit. Not sure how long he’ll be.”
I didn’t.
It was obvious why Greg stayed in the room with me. He didn’t trust me when there was a window. Although, I don’t know what he expected me to do considering we were on the second floor.
“Maybe I can come back tomorrow and talk to him?” My hopeful tone drifted off when Greg chuckled midsentence as he stood beside the door, arms crossed, stance wide.
Okay, I wasn’t getting out of this, so I had to man up and do what Frankie said. Killian was just a man. He wasn’t a freakin’ god.
I amended that thought when the door clicked open, and my heart shot off into a pattering of rapid beats as Killian’s presence filled the room. Maybe I should sit? No, I had more power standing. Power? Against Killian? The thought was laughable.
“Thanks, Greg,” he said, but his eyes were on me.
“Sure thing,” Greg replied. “Be right outside.” He looked at me, so I think the comment was for my benefit.
The door clicked closed. Twice now I’d been with Killian in an office. Alone.