King's Passion (5 page)

This time, she let the phone go silent.

“Vicki?”

“What is it with this Vicki crap?” she snapped. “Stop calling me that.”

“Oh. Sorry.”

“And what do you mean you can't marry me? Do you know how much has gone into this wedding? The time? The money?” She started pacing back and forth, wishing that he was actually there so that she could wrap her hands around his neck and squeeze it until his eyeballs popped out.

“Yeah. I'm sorry about that. But, you see, I met this wonderful woman out here and…well…we got married last night.”

Victoria stopped pacing and, once again, the phone line went silent.

“Vicki—I mean, Victoria? Are you there?”

Frankly, she wasn't sure whether she was there or not. This certainly felt more like an out-of-body experience. “What do you mean, you got married last night?” she hissed so low that it sounded like she was pouring venom into the phone.

“HE WHAT?” her father roared.

Undoubtedly Marcus heard her father's roar because suddenly he developed a stuttering problem. “S-see. Wh-what had h-happened was…D-Delicious and I—”

“DELICIOUS? You're dumping me at the altar for some trick named Delicious? Have you lost your damn mind?”

“WHAT?” her father continued to thunder. “Give me that phone.”

Before Victoria could really unload on her second-rate Urkel-wannabe fiancé, her father successfully grabbed the phone from her.

“NOW, LOOK HERE, MARCUS! Clearly you've either had too much to drink or you've smoked something that has cooked your brain. You must have forgotten who you're dealing with. From now until you're six feet under, I will take great pleasure in personally destroying you. Do you hear me, young man?”

Trembling with anger and humiliation, Victoria turned and stormed out of the master bedroom and went in search of a good stiff drink—or a whole bottle. At this point, it didn't matter.

The twins and her mother shuffled behind her. Each of them told her to calm down and tried to assure her that everything was going to be all right, while her father continued to rant and rave into the phone. Three quick shots of Jack Daniels later, her nerves started to settle down, but her fury was just getting started.

One week later…

Q
uentin Dewayne Hinton was rocking Eamon's last nerve. This simple babysitting project was backfiring more rapidly than he'd anticipated. Sure, he knew that his older cousin was a spoiled rich kid, but he was unprepared for Q's total disregard for reality. The man had managed to arrange his life to be one giant party. Since he'd arrived, he'd basically hired most of The Dollhouse's dancers to perform at his over-the-top private parties on the top floor of the Bellagio. Who in the hell rents the entire top floor of a casino?

Now Eamon was up to his ears with complaints from customers, because he didn't have enough women working the floor or the upcoming slew of bachelor parties. And where were his two brothers? Apparently nowhere since they were clearly dodging the fifty calls he made to each of them a day.

“I know that you're screening your calls,” Eamon barked into the phone. “Call me back!” He slammed the phone down and then ground his back teeth together until he swore that he could taste powder.

Knock! Knock!

“What do you want?” he barked and then immediately regretted it.

The door slowly cracked open, but then just enough for Hayley to stick her head through. “Sorry to disturb you, but we have all the new girls ready to audition.”

“You have their applications and had them fill out the questionnaires?” he asked.

Hayley bobbed her head and tried to flash a smile.

Sighing, Eamon climbed out of his chair and headed toward the door. “I guess the faster I do this, the faster it'll all be over with.”

Hayley handed him a thick folder and then patted him on the arm. “See. That's the spirit, Boy Toy.”

The meek smile that he was trying to force died as he cut her a look.

She just laughed.

The permanent marker that had been used on him at the Hendersons' bachelor party had been scrubbed with everything from soap, alcohol, makeup remover and at one point a few cotton balls of bleach. The lettering had faded significantly, but if anyone was to look real close, they would still be able to make out the words.

“It's not funny,” he grumbled when Hayley's laughter refused to die out.

“I think that depends on who you ask,” she volleyed back.

Sighing, Eamon picked up his pace. He had enough of everyone's cackling.

It being just a little past noon, there were just a few
people scattered about cleaning and stocking up the club. At the main stage in the center of the club were approximately fifty new girls, ready to audition. At first glance, the women were all very beautiful and their dancing outfits ranged from everything like the naughty nurse to the dominatrix police officer.

Pretty much the typical stuff.

Drawing in a deep breath, he pulled out a chair and plopped down. “Good afternoon, ladies.”

“Good afternoon, Mr. King,” they chimed back as though they had been practicing all afternoon.

Eamon smiled and opened the folder Hayley had handed him and immediately started delving into the women's head shots and applications. “Okay. First up, Regina Bailey?”

“That's me.” Regina stepped forward, showcasing a smile that stretched from ear to ear.

Eamon looked her over. “Like the smile. Like the legs…” His eyes parked on her flat chest and then hesitated. “So how long have you been dancing?” he asked while he read her information as she answered him.

“Since I was six,” Regina said, remaining chipper.

“Professionally?” he asked, even though he'd already made up his mind that she wasn't right for the club.

“No. Actually, I just moved out here from Madison, Wisconsin. It's always been my dream to become a showgirl.”

Eamon arched a brow and eased back into his chair. “A showgirl? You know The Dollhouse is a gentlemen's club. This isn't casino work.”

Regina fidgeted a bit, but her smile never faltered. “Yeah. I know, but…I haven't been able to land anything yet. And—” she snuck a quick glance at the other women behind her “—well…I sort of really need a job.”

Eamon stared at the young girl for a long moment before he then glanced back down to see that she was just twenty-one. An innocent. “Have you ever done any waitressing?”

“Yeah. Actually, my daddy owns a restaurant back home. I grew up helping wait tables. Problem is that it's just as hard trying to find a waitressing job out here as it is trying to land a dancing gig.” Her smile finally started to falter.

“Well, today is your lucky day. I just happen to have an opening. It's yours if you're interested.”

Eamon watched as if he'd just lifted the world off her shoulders.

“Really?”

He nodded. “I'm sure as long as you keep flashing that pretty smile of yours. You'll rake in a lot of money in tips.”

“Oh, thank you so much.” She blew him a kiss and started bouncing up and down. “You just don't know how much that means to me. I thought I was going to have to go back home with my tail tucked between my legs. Thank you. Thank you.”

“All right. All right. You're more than welcome.” He turned toward Hayley and handed her Regina's picture and profile. “Will you take Regina here and make sure that she fills out all the necessary paperwork?”

Her eyes danced with amusement as she whispered, “I didn't know we had a position available. I would've had my cousin Gwen apply.”

“When Gwen learns to walk and chew gum at the same time, you do that.”

Hayley laughed and then escorted Regina to the back office.

For the next two hours, Eamon watched the rest of the girls audition. There were a few potentials, maybe
one or two break-out stars, but the majority of them were rhythm and balance challenged. Just when he and the DJ were getting down to the last dozen women, the front door swung open.

Eamon glanced at his watch. “I'm sorry, but auditions are closed right now.” He shook his head. Tardiness was a trait that he couldn't stand. But when he heard a pair of heels stab the hardwood floors, he turned his attention to his right. “I said…”

Nothing, absolutely nothing could've prepared Eamon for the tall, fiery divinity that was storming his way. Six feet tall, with long flowing brown hair and blond highlights, this woman commanded attention like no one he'd ever seen before. Though her eyes were hidden behind a pair of fashionable bumblebee sunglasses, Eamon took time to note her high cheekbones and her thick kissable lips. And her body was sick. Sleek shoulders, high D-cup breasts, slim waist and butt that had just the right amount of jiggle when she walked.

“Now, this is more like it,” he said and then shifted in his seat to relieve some of the pain of his erection that was creeping down his right leg and threatening to escape his boxers.

“I'm looking for the owner,” the woman announced with a thinly concealed attitude.

Eamon didn't answer. He was too busy taking in her tight, white-lace dress that hugged her body like a second layer of skin and just barely kissed the middle of her incredibly toned thighs.

Clearly impatient, his dream woman snatched off her glasses and proceeded to stare him down with her blazing green eyes. He froze, looking at her face and remembering.

“HELLO!” She snapped her fingers in front of his face. “Do you speak in English?
¿Habla inglés?
”

Eamon finally broke out of his trance. “I'm sorry, what?”

She huffed out a breath and she settled a hand on her hips. “I
said
that I was looking for the owners.”

“Well, you're in luck. You just found one of them. What are you going to perform for me today, honey?” He couldn't stop the smile that was creeping across his face. The image of her slicked down with baby oil and swinging that incredible body around a golden pole had him feeling like a preteen schoolboy. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt like this—if ever.

“Perform?” She whipped her head around and finally took notice of the other scantily clad women behind her. When she turned back around, she was bubbling with laughter. “You've got to be kidding me.” She rocked her neck. “Do I look like someone who works a pole for a living?”

Eamon took the question as invitation to take another look at the incredible brick house in front of him. Apparently he was taking too long because she started clearing her throat.

“Are you done?”

Eamon's gaze sprang back to her heated stare. “I guess I am now.” He leaned forward and planted his elbows on the table and then braided his hands together. “All right. I'll bite. If you didn't come here to audition today, then why are you here?”

Her lips spread into a tight smile as she reached inside her large purse and withdrew some folded paper. “I came to serve you this.” She thrust the papers toward him.

He froze at the word
serve
and refused to take the papers from her. “What is it?”

His discomfort and mistrust seemed to amuse her further because if her smile grew any wider, she was going to look like the Joker after a while. “I'm suing you.” She dropped the papers on the table in front of him.
“Honey.”

“What for?” He snatched up the papers and rolled his gaze over the pages. So entrenched in his reading, he didn't hear when Quentin entered the club, let alone him walking up to the table.

“Hey, cuz. What's up?”

“FIFTY MILLION DOLLARS!” Eamon roared.

“Congratulations. You can read,” she said smugly. “Now, if you can write and add, I'll be expecting that check when we go to court.”

Quentin placed one hand on the table and leaned over so that he could catch the fire-breathing Amazon's attention. “Aren't you a feisty one?” He flashed his woman-magnet dimples at her. “Please don't break my heart and tell me that you're dating my knucklehead cousin here.”

She leaned away from Quentin, suspicious of his over-the-top charm and his seemingly X-ray eyes.

“Fat chance,” Eamon barked. “She's suing us.”

“Oh? Are you one of the owners of this—” she glanced around and drew a deep breath “—establishment?”

“Guilty. Quentin D. Hinton at your service.” He looked her over again. “Have you ever thought about a career as a dancer?”

“What the hell is wrong with you two?”

Eamon popped up from his chair. “Q, would you mind finishing up the auditions? Ms.…” He looked down at the paperwork. “Gregory?”

She smiled. “You're still impressing me with those reading skills.”

He frowned at her constant sarcasm. “Ms. Gregory and I will be in the office if you need anything. There are just
a few more girls. I'm sure you're more than qualified to handle it.”

Quentin saluted. “Yes, sir. It's a hard job, but someone has to do it.” He shifted his gaze back to Ms. Gregory. “When you finish your meeting you know where to find me.”

She simply stared at the handsome playboy like she had never met or even seen anyone like him before.

“This way, Ms. Gregory.” He swept his arm in the direction of the back office.

She hesitated for just a moment, but then finally pulled her purse strap over her shoulder and then marched off toward the back.

Quentin cocked his head to check out her walk.

Eamon socked him on the arm. “Ow. What?”

“Just…handle the auditions. Geez.” He fell in line behind Ms. Gregory. But after a few strides, his head slowly started to tilt to the side as well while he twisted his face at the sight of that wonderful jiggle this woman had.

She reached the door first and turned.

Eamon fixed his face and pasted on a smile just a nanosecond before she busted him.

However, her hard green eyes narrowed like she had eyes in the back of her head.

Playing it straight, he just opened the door. “After you.”

She hesitated again.

“Don't worry. I don't bite,” he assured her.

“Too bad,” she volleyed without missing a beat. “I do.”

Eamon's brows jumped up at the response as she turned and crossed the threshold. “I'll definitely keep that in
mind,” he said and then fought like hell to keep his eyes trained on the back of her head. It didn't work. He snuck another peek.

“Let me guess,” Hayley said from his assistant's desk. “Another new hire?”

Ms. Gregory started to settle her hands on her hips again when Eamon jumped in. “No. Ms. Gregory and I have business to discuss in my office.” He opened his door.

“Aaah.
Business.
” Hayley winked. “I gotcha.”

Eamon shook his head. This was not one of those times to toss sexual innuendos around. He tried to convey that by casting a hard look at Hayley, but she gave him the same clueless expression as Quentin. “What?”

Sighing and rolling his eyes, Eamon finally entered his office and closed the door. “All right, Ms. Gregory. What's this lawsuit all about?” He walked around his desk and plopped into his chair.

“The fact that my name is
still
Ms. Gregory,” she seethed.

Of course that answer only confused him more. He frowned and wrinkled his forehead.

She squinted and leaned forward. “Does your forehead say
boy toy?
”

Eamon coughed and then tried to bring the subject back to this lawsuit. “You want to explain what you mean?”

“It does,” she persisted. “Why do you have
boy toy
written on your head?”

Propping one elbow on the desk, Eamon tilted his head and then slapped his hand across his forehead. “Can we stick to the subject here? The lawsuit?”

“It's all right there. The Dollhouse also runs a sideline company called Bachelor Adventures, right?”

“Yes. And?” He dropped his hand and then leaned back
in his chair. Clearly getting information out of her was going to be like squeezing water out of a rock.