‘‘Here, just like you wanted ... Today’s receipts, invoices from the deliveries, the tips, takings, and the till print off; would you like me to do anything else for you? Seeing as I am obviously not busy in Happy hour with serving customers and running myself ragged with your demands?’’ I glare at Luciano, throwing the papers on his cluttered desk, completely pissed that he made me do this on a Saturday night at eleven p.m. In our busiest season with Football playoffs and the bar is heaving since he opened it up to the public in Alexi’s absence.
Luciano just glares right back with that unconcealed disdain he has for me since I arrived here. The short fat little balding creep has done nothing but rile me up the wrong way and put me down at every turn, from day one.
The Camilla of the streets would have romanced him and blown him by now if he was of any value to me in this life but as I have my eye on a much bigger and sexier prize then I am wasting none of my hard-earned flattery on the likes of pencil dick and his complete hatred of women having an equal footing to him.
I have been here for almost two months, since I got out of the hospital, and much to my complete disappointment our suave Italian has never reappeared in all that time to give me any sort of direction on what he wanted me to do in this damn club. The place is nothing more than a cheap watered down back alley dive and Luciano couldn’t run a treadmill, let alone a nightclub.
This place is barely scraping by; I think he knows it too, as requesting tonight’s takings several hours early is a sign of desperation. I also have suspicions he has been diddling the takings for weeks, but it’s his funeral, and when Alexi shows face I doubt he won’t notice. I wouldn’t be dumb enough to steal from him anyway.
I never thought I would end up being nothing more than a glorified bartender, but at least Alexi’s paying me the wages of a bar manager and the apartment upstairs is both luxurious and free, which is a nice bonus.
It’s modern, five stars and has two bedrooms in a lovely open-plan layout. Although I suspect the black silk sheeted master suite is his, and never go in there for fear of what I might find; it has something of Alexi in the stark masculine neatness and the locks on the inner door suggest he uses this place for playtime when he stays here.
I guess I should see the advantage on being so close to his boudoir, even if he might be a dark man of sinister kinks. It gives me the upper hand on seduction moves.
Apart from his room, I have the free run of the whole upper floor in a four-story-tall New York building. We are snuggled in the back, dark depths, of warren-like streets, and my view is limited to windows and brick walls of buildings beside us, but the décor is expensive, clean and airy. I am completely at home in the minimalist lad pad with high tech. No expense spared on the gadgets and entertainment or the fitted kitchen that is perfect for small meals.
I can’t grumble at landing on my feet this way, I’m just bored with the lack of scope for doing anything other than becoming Luciano’s mule for his workload as this place crumbles to the ground around my ears.
‘‘Get out and get back downstairs, go shake your tits at people with cash to spend.’’ He growls at me with his crooked teeth on show and those watery blue eyes almost popping out of that loathsome skull. That bulging creepy vein appears over his reddening forehead, signalling I’m pissing him off again. He loses his temper easily this one, and if I had the energy to clean up his mess I would have made the artery pop by now; he’s easy to affect, and I reckon I could push all his buttons if I so desired.
Wanker!
‘‘They couldn’t afford me, hence why I leave dressing like whores to your staff.’’ I flick my long harlot red hair at him over my shoulder as I turn on my very high stiletto heel and smooth down my fitted navy shift dress. I was always more of a dress to impress than pop out to show the goods kind of girl. If a man wants it, then he will work for it and pay more. If you put it all on show and let him sample the goods before he buys, then you don’t make half as many sales. His staff should really learn the art of teasing and enticing—they would get way more tips.
‘‘You’re a cheap slut that Alexi obviously installed here until he’s ready for a new fuck buddy. He will use you and kick you to the curb as soon as he’s done. Don’t get comfy Sweetlips … Alexi has his eye on more pressing issues than women! You’re all mere distractions for him, and I for one, cannot wait to see him dump you in the gutter.’’ He smirks, pleased with his little put-down and I just laugh sweetly, unaffected by smarmy little imps with penis envy.
‘’Dahling … green is not your colour; it clashes with your high blood pressure.’’ I wink as I wiggle my way out of the office and smirk with the crash of things falling off his desk. He tends to swipe when he’s raging, and I probably just gave him twenty minutes of picking up all those papers I just deposited.
I'm a tad smug at how effortlessly I get to him, it’s been my only amusement these past weeks.
I wander out across the cream carpeted open floor of the office level, between the large potted palms, towards the row of lifts.