If I Break THE COMPLETE SERIES Bundle (101 page)

“… a deal with Crestfield even possible, Cal?” This guy’s voice irritates the hell out of me. It’s like a cross between a pissed-off teacher and a fast-food worker. His expression looks like he hasn’t taken a shit in about four days. He looks irritated and now I’m irritated. Why the hell would I waste my time if a deal wasn’t possible?

“Another drink, gentleman?” One of the bottle girls interrupts us but what a welcome interruption she is.
Did I say how much I love Chicago?

I forgot her name, I’ve seen her here a few times before. Michelle, Mallory, something or other. My two clients eye her tits.

“Not right now, hon. Make sure you come back in couple of minutes,” he says with a sly grin. Mr. Constipated, his counterpart, gives her the eye and I try to contain my laughter. I must admit whoever does the hiring needs a raise—a big one.

“And you, sir?” her voice drops an octave as she flashes her bright green eyes at me. I have a thing for women with beautiful eyes but I can tell she’s a pro as she leans into me, slightly licking her lips, a bold red, the same color as her hair.

“That’ll be it,” I whisper in her ear, sliding a bill in her hand. She smiles appreciatively and stuffs the fifty into the valley between her tits before sauntering away.

“What? Do I need a pair of Double-D breasts to get his attention?” Mr. Constipated says. If he wasn’t so fucking cheap, he’d be the one she’d be pressed up against tonight.

“The terms of the agreement you’re offering… I don’t think it’s worth the risk,” I state simply.

“Well, to be frank, we’d rather discuss this with Mr. Crestfield. And in a proper place of business, not this swamp of Jersey Shore elite,” Mr. Constipated says tightly. I grin and signal another bottle girl back to the table.

“Can you pour Mr. Freeman here a drink? Because I think he needs to cool the fuck off.”

“Look, Cal, we don’t mean any disrespect, we’re really anxious to make this deal happen,” the less annoying one says. I hate guys like Mr. Constipated, men with degrees that cost more than people’s mortgages. They know I’m not one of them, they can tell—sense it, blue blood—bull shit. Good thing is, I don’t give a shit. So I smile, the same smile I could flash his wife and have her on her knees in ten minutes and play it cool. After all, it must suck being him.

“I’ve taken time out of my schedule on my day off to hear a proposal, a legitimate offer to take back to Dexter and you bring me this shitty deal? Bottom line is, we have better options to review,” I say before standing up.

“Wait. Wait, everyone. Calm down. Tensions are high. Cal, we really appreciate the fact that you’ve come out to hear our proposals. This is actually one of our properties. Cegan, how about we go see if the property holders are in, and how things are going?”

This is how it usually works. They’re caught off guard. They think the deal is off the table and now their heads are spinning. I pull out my phone as I make my way from the table. I shoot Dex a text saying he has them exactly where he wants them.

I make my way from the VIP area down to the main area of the club. VIP is exclusive and all of that shit but the main floor is where the fun is and, once work is done, it’s time to play and there are so many toys out tonight. I feel a hand slip around my stomach and turn to see the sexy red head from earlier.

“Are you looking for Tori?” she says leaning into me.

Tori’s a bottle girl who works here. She’s supermodel-hot, fun, easy, gives me space but answers when I call. She’s one of my regulars and when I’m in the mood for something different than her for the night, she doesn’t cause a scene or throw a fit. Hell, sometimes she’ll come with me and my flavor of the night. Bad thing about her, she likes to drink on the job, if it wasn’t for me sliding her manager a couple of hundreds to look the other way, she’d have been out on her ass.

“Maybe,” I tell her as I watch her hand slide down my arm and land on my Cartier watch, her finger lingering over it and I immediately know this girl is looking for a cash out, not fun, and I don’t play with her type.

“She got canned today. She spilled two thousand dollars’ worth of champagne,” she says with a gleeful smile on her face.

What the fuck Tori…

I liked that she walked on the wild side of life but there’s nothing sexy about getting wasted. It takes you off your game, makes you a different person and I have enough quirks in that area. Needless to say, it was irritating that she always wanted to get shit faced. Tipsy girls are cute. Drunk off your ass is fucking disgusting. There’s nothing sexy about it.

I’m not the type to hold a girl’s hair up while she pukes.

“Don’t look so sad. I can keep you company tonight,” she purrs in my ear. Not interested. I forgot this girl’s name but I’m pretty sure she was Tori’s friend and nothing’s more of a turn off than disloyalty.

“I’m going to go get a drink,” I say pushing her hand out of my way and heading to the bar. There are too many other prospects in here. If I want to take someone home tonight, it wouldn’t be a money-hungry backstabber. I push my way through the crowd, where a few women catch my eye. I don’t want a drink but the bar is the place to be so that’s where I am. Tori’s friend squeezes beside me. She shoots me a flirtatious grin. She either didn’t take the hint or is desperate.

“How fucking long does it take to get a shot?” some drunk guy next to me shouts loud enough to be heard over the music. There’s other grumblings from people around me. It looks like they’re backed up.

“Steven’s out sick,” the girl whose name I forgot says, leaning into me before her hand roams up my thigh. If she keeps it up I might just let her give me a blow job before sending her on her way.

“The owner has waitresses covering,” she adds. I shrug and turn my body away from her. She’s starting to annoy the fuck out of me, and besides that she’s blocking other girls. I need to find someone to make her get lost quick. I start to head away from the bar but, as I do, the girl behind the bar catches my eye. She more than catches it because I have to double-back to reclaim the space I just lost at the bar.

Who the hell is she?

“I’m so sorry for the wait, everyone. Please be patient with us.” Her voice is light and airy and her smile makes my heart skip a beat. She’s sexy as hell. Creamy white skin, long dark wavy hair, and she has a cute tight little body. She’s short too, I always had a thing for short girls—‘Fun sized.’ Not only is she sexy, she’s fucking gorgeous. Most girls are either one or the other but she’s both. Adding to that mesmerizing brown eyes, big and bright ones that make her look innocent. She’s only in front of me a few seconds, apologizing to everyone again before she goes to the other end of the bar and does the same. My eyes follow her. Her face is clean. She’s not wearing pounds of make up like most of the other girls in the club. She has perfectly plump lips and on her feet, my favorite shoes on a woman, ‘come fuck me pumps.’

“She’s taken,” ‘Whatserface’ says in my ear.

Too bad.

There’s too many single chicks in the world to bark up that tree, but I decide to play around, just to make ‘Whatserface’ jealous. Since she won’t leave me alone, I might as well have a little fun.

“That’s never stopped me before,” I taunt her and her face scrunches up like a finished bag of chips.

“She’s not like that,” she says defensively.

“Really?” I say sarcastically.

“No really. She’s not, she’s all into the other bartender that works here. She doesn’t talk to any other guys, not even to flirt for tips,” she counters with a satisfied grin on her face. Beautiful and loyal…
hmmm
.

It’s been a while since a girl seemed unattainable and that piques my curiosity.

It doesn’t take more than a smile, a little attention and a few shots and Whatsername has given me all the details I want.

Lauren
, I like that name, is dating a dude named Michael. I’ve seen him before at the club. Typical pretty-boy douchebag. The frat boy type, screwing anything that walks. I don’t know this girl but seeing any beautiful loyal woman attached to some ass wipe that did any chick he could, ticked me off. This time, it irks me more than it usually does.

My first impression is right. He’s a creep if I ever saw one. The type of dude that makes a girl fall for him, traps her in a dead end crappy one-sided relationship, screwing anything that moves but telling his girlfriend he loves her every chance he gets.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m no fucking Prince Charming but I never lead girls on. I don’t make promises I’ll never keep. I don’t lie. Each one knows to expect nothing from me but a good time. There’s no need to play with a girl’s emotions. No need to tell them you love them when you don’t mean it, and, if you are fucking someone else, you definitely don’t mean it. You can’t love someone else and screw around just because they make your dick hard. I’ve seen enough girls get screwed over by the pricks in disguise and, unluckily for Michael. I was going to have a little fun.

I have to admit, dude had balls. I watched him for three nights and each night he’d pull some girl drunk off her ass into the storage room and come out like he just won a prize. Cheating is routine for most dudes, but doing it in the place your girlfriend works, takes a lot of fucking nerve.

Night four, I decided it was time to watch the show. It only cost me fifty bucks to get one of the waitresses at the club to point 
her 
in the right direction of the storage room. A cute little Asian chick was his meal of choice for the night. I have to hand it to him. He has good taste. Every girl I’ve seen him with was a fucking ten.

I signal the waitress I paid earlier and see her go over to Lauren. I’m not sure what she said but it makes Lauren smile and I feel my palms start to sweat. Not a reaction I expected.

I’m nervous…and I don’t get nervous.

Screw it.

I’m ready to see the fireworks. I can’t wait until she catches this jerk-off. I glance at my watch. It shouldn’t take more than five minutes until she finds them.

I’m right.

It only takes two before Lauren is flying out of the storage room, but she’s crying. I expected profanity, yelling, maybe a cat fight but none of that happens. I thought she’d just be pissed off instead of
…this
. I thought the aftermath would be funny, entertaining, that the joke would be on this Michael dude but this girl, she’s devastated. A few other waitresses chase after her, seeing how upset she is. The other girl in the storage room runs out adjusting her dress and disappears into the crowd. Michael looks confused as hell and frantic.

“Lauren!” he shouts, looking around for her. He goes in the other direction.

This is what I wanted.

Entertainment. But this doesn’t feel right.

I feel like a bigger asshole than her boyfriend. I think…I feel bad. It’s a foreign-ass feeling
and
 I want to make up for it.

This girl has no clue who I am or what I’ve done but, shit, I feel fucked up over it. This is the first time I’ve cared how someone feels when it doesn’t affect me. I want to make it up to 
her
. I want to make her feel better. The only problem is, I don’t make things up to people. I sure as hell don’t make situations better. I fuck shit up and I have no fucking clue how to not do that.