My blood starts to boil. I’m so glad I didn’t tell him I remember him. He’s one of those players that comes here behind the backs of his girlfriends, wives, or whatever the hell they are.
Ugh… I’m so off men. This is bloody typical.
I keep my head down and face the front as I hear my angry pulse in my ears. Damn it. I don’t want him to see me. Should I just go home? I swallow the nervous lump in my throat as I glance around the club trying to locate him. My entire professional career will be out the window if he knows I work here. Fucking hell, I can hardly breathe.
Ebony reappears through the crowd smiling and her face falls when she sees the worry on mine. “What’s wrong?” she asks.
“There is a guy here… from my work,” I stammer.
“Shit,” she curses.
“What do I do?” I whisper as I look around nervously.
“Go out the back and get a wig, glasses, and a hat.”
I screw up my face. “What? That won’t work.”
She shrugs. “We all do it and nobody has been caught yet.”
I run my hands through my hair. This is a disaster.
“Well, you can’t go home. We have no staff already.”
I look around as I weigh up my options and, seeing as there are no others, I ask the question. “Where are the wigs and stuff kept?”
Another girl walks past us and Ebony grabs her hand. “You need to cover the door for a minute while we deal with an emergency.”
“I can’t. I’m on drinks,” the girl replies flatly.
Ebony grabs my hand and pulls me behind her, totally ignoring what she just said.
“Thank you. We will only be a minute,” she calls over her shoulder.
The girl puts her hands up. “Hey!” she calls behind us.
We walk along the back, into the staff area and down a long corridor. I’m in a near panic now. “I have to go home, Ebony. If he sees me here I’m totally screwed.”
“Who is he?” She frowns
“My boss.”
She grimaces. “Oh shit.” She continues to drag me along until we get to the hairdressing salon and the male stylist Franco is in there doing two of the Escape girls’ hair.
“Vivienne needs a disguise. Her boss is here,” she announces.
Everyone’s eyes fall to me, and they all screw up their faces in sympathy. I throw my hands over my eyes. “I can’t get caught. Maybe I should just leave this job right now?”
The stylist turns his attention to me. “It’s okay, calm down. We can work wonders in here.” He sits me down in a chair and opens a large cupboard door revealing drawers. He bends and pulls out the second from the bottom. “Brunette?” he asks the girls.
“Yes, and long,” replies Ebony.
He takes out a long, dark chocolate wig and places it on the chair, and then he ties my hair back in a tight bun and puts the wig on my head. Long, dark, luscious thick hair hangs just below my breast.
I stifle a smile. “This wig is…” It’s kind of cool to be honest.
“It’s high quality,” he replies, distracted as he straightens and pins it on. “If you come in here every shift, I will wig you up.”
I nod gratefully. “Okay. Thank you”
One of the other girls disappears and comes back with a sexy pink sailor cap, placing it on my head as Ebony hands me a pair of pink-tinted glasses.
“There.” She smiles as she puts her hands on her hips and stands back to admire her handy work. “No one would ever know it’s you.”
“You need lipstick,” the stylist says as he fluffs around with my wig.
One of the other girls shuffles around in the drawer in front of where she is sitting and pulls out hot pink lipstick, passing it to me.
I screw up my face. “Really?” I frown. That looks very clowny.
“Really,” they all reply in unison.
I put on the hot pink lipstick and stare at my reflection in the mirror. I’m wearing a tight leather skirt and a skimpy tie around leather top, gold high heels, long dark hair with a sailor’s cap, pink glasses and pink lipstick. I do hate to admit it, but I don’t even recognize myself.
“Thank you.” I smile. “Shall I just go back out?” I ask.
“Yes, go and find a job where he won’t see you,” Ebony replies.
Find a job. What job? “Should I go back to the bar?”
“Maybe collect glasses from the tables until you see where he is and then decide where he will least likely see you.”
I nod. “Good idea.” I think on it for a minute. “Will I get into trouble for not going back to the bar, though?”
“No, it’s cool. The glasses need collecting from the table anyways.” She gives me a smile and runs her fingers through my long dark hair. “You make a pretty hot brunette, Viv.”
I look at her over the top of my rose-colored glasses and smirk. “Thanks.” I turn and walk back out into the club feeling a little braver. My eyes roam the club at the hundreds of well-dressed men in suits. It’s like looking for a needle in a haystack
Right. Cameron Stanton?
Where are you?
It’s been over an hour and I have walked what feels like five thousand miles around this club in the search of my Dr. Vegas. Where is he? My eyes scan the bottom level as I walk along with my tray, picking up empty glasses from the tables. Group after group of gorgeous men surround me, but I can’t seem to find mine. Well, he’s not mine, but you know what I mean. The music comes to a crescendo and the lights dim. Shit. The fashion show is starting. The spotlight comes on the catwalk and I stand still for a moment as I watch the first model glide down the runway. Gosh, she’s breathtaking. A natural redhead with porcelain skin-she has this confident, sexy walk going on, and to be honest, I think she is the most beautiful girl I have ever seen in real life. Wearing a cream sequin dress that is backless, her hair is down and set in Hollywood curls. She has sky-high, strappy gold stilettos on. I stand still for a moment as I watch her command the room with her beauty. The men on the bottom level all watch her, captivated, and they exchange looks with a smirk.
What must it be like to be her? She gets to pick from these men.
Who will she choose?
Transfixed, I watch her make eye contact with some of the men in the front row as she comes to the end of the runway and puts her hand on her hip, throwing them a sexy wink. I bite my bottom lip to stifle my smile. She’s playing with them.
The men all glance at each other and size each other up. Suddenly the penny drops. These are powerful men… they could have any woman they want on their own merits in the real world, but in here they are just a number… and she gets to choose.
It’s the powerful man’s ultimate game.
Suddenly I’m frantic to find Cameron Stanton. What if she wants him?
No, she can’t have him. I want him. I begin to look around nervously. Of course she’ll want him. Any woman would pick him over the rest of these idiots. The models all start to file out in their fashion parade, but I’m focused on my task. I continue to pick up the glasses and weave in between the men. I bend over a table and I feel a hand on my behind and then slide down to the back of my thigh. I look over my shoulder to see a distinguished looking man with dark hair standing behind me.
He’s in his late thirties and handsome in a sophisticated, naughty way.
“Hello.” He smiles sexily as he raises his brow.
I smile nervously, relieved that it isn’t Dr. Stanton. Or maybe I do wish it was him. No, I don’t! He can’t find out that I work here. Oh jeez, I’m confusing myself here.
“Hello.” I smirk.
His eyes drop to my feet and back up to meet my eyes. I can feel the heat from his gaze. This man is hot. “What’s your name?” he asks.
“Vivienne.”
He holds out his hand and I stare down at it. He wants to shake my hand. Even in a place like this, his manners overrule his desire.
I nervously shake his hand.
“You’re new?”
I smile softly. “Yes.”
His eyes drop back to my feet and then back up as he licks his bottom lip. “Are you going to be working in the Escape Lounge?”
I glance down at the models floating up and down the catwalk and shake my head. “No.” I glance around nervously. “I’m just behind the bar.”
His dark eyes hold mine. “Pity.” His hand drops to my hipbone and he gives it a dominant squeeze. “Do you give lap dances?”
The heat from his hand is burning hot. I feel arousal begin to swirl between us. It’s been way too long since I’ve been touched by a man-nearly two years, to be exact.
“No.” I look around nervously. “I wouldn’t know how to give a lap dance,” I murmur
He bends and puts his lips to my ear. “I could teach you,” he whispers so close that I feel his breath on my skin. Goosebumps scatter, and he gently runs his hand up my forearm to feel them.
My scared eyes hold his and he smirks triumphantly.
He bends to my ear again. “I could turn you into my Escape girl.” He gently kisses my ear.
I frown and step back from him abruptly. Okay, this guy is freaking me out. He is gorgeous and tempting and fucking dangerous to my morals.
“I don’t think so,” I murmur.
“Could be fun.” He smirks.
A smile crosses my face. “I have no doubt, but I’m nobody’s Escape girl.”
“Maybe I could be your Escape man?” He raises a sexy brow.
Now… there’s a proposition worth thinking about. I smile and grab his hand and squeeze it in mine. “Keep dreaming.” I pick up my tray and turn and walk off through the crowd. I hate to admit it, but I feel ten-feet tall. He was gorgeous and he wanted me. I can hardly wipe the stupid smile from my face. My tray is full and I have to return it to the kitchen, which is in the restaurant at the back of the club. I walk up the three steps into the industrial trendy looking bar. The floor is polished cement and the furnishings are all recycled expensive timber. The chairs are all a funky tan leather, and the dropped light fittings are huge copper pendants. The music is different in here. It’s more of a relaxed vibe. This place must have cost an absolute fortune to furnish. I’ve never been up here before and I glance around as I look for the door into the kitchen. There it is at the back. As I walk through, I hear a familiar laugh, and I glance up at a table of six men sitting in the corner having dinner.
Cameron.
He’s with five other men and they are all around a table eating and laughing, paying no attention at all to the women in the fashion parade. I drop my head and continue walking into the kitchen to place the tray in the line up for the dishwasher. A waitress is in the kitchen running the food.
“Hi.” I smile as I watch him through the peephole.
“Hello.” She smiles. “God, it’s hectic tonight.”
“I know.” I grin as an idea runs through my mind. “Hey, see that table of men up the back?”
She glances over at them. “Yes.”
“How long have they been here?”
“A few hours.”
I nod. “Okay…” I hesitate. “Thank you.”
I drop my head and walk back out of the restaurant. Please don’t see me, please don’t see me. I pick up another tray and begin to collect my empty glasses again. After another hour of restaurant door stalking, I glance up and see Cameron and his group of friends walking out of the restaurant.
Shit. I drop my head and scurry into the darkness between the crowd. I watch on as he and his friends head down to the front of the club where the Escape girls are.
Oh no…
I follow him through the crowd as I pick up glasses. He and his friends stand in a group and begin to talk again, and it’s all I can do not to run up and scream get out of here before you scar me for life.
I continue to pick up my glasses in the shadows as I watch on and one of the Escape girls walks up the stairs, over to their group of men. She has long black hair and a body to die for. She’s wearing a skimpy orange dress that leaves nothing to the imagination. I frown in horror. Oh no…
“Hey,” a man yells. “That glass is still full.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.” I quickly put his glass back down on the table. God, this is multitasking at its absolute worst. How the hell can I concentrate on glasses when this shit is gong on? The girl walks straight over to Cameron and says something to him. He gives her a smirk as his hand drops to her behind. I watch him squeeze her cheek in his hand and then pat her ass.
My stomach rolls.