Wed to the Bad Boy (2 page)

Joanna

“No. I’m not wearing that.” I crossed my arms and looked at the rag on the desk, even that was a generous term. It was a scrap of fabric, and sheer.  He had to be crazy. Absolutely fucking crazy if he thought I was going to parade around in that stupid little thing.

It was a translucent dress with an opaque black band around the breasts and the more delicate places. No way I was going to put that on.

“You will wear it. And you will wear it with the shoes.” Janson put a pair of red stilettos on the desk next to the dress. They were shiny and tall, and everything I hated about being designated “eye-candy”.

“I don’t think so. Do you even know what my uncle would do if he heard about this?” I asked. It was one thing to serve drinks; it was another entirely to have to wear a getup like that. No. Absolutely not. I could just imagine the look of anger on this face as he screamed at them. It would start a war.

One they were on the brink of anyway.

“I think the very first thing your uncle would do would be to ask exactly why your father went to us for a loan. He’s the brother of the most influential man in the O’Brien family. Your family. So why did he come to ours for money, Jo?” Janson stood and leaned over the table, his bulging muscles and stubborn eyes daring me to keep arguing.

“Fine.” I grabbed the clothing and pulled them across the table. The fabric on the dress was odd and stretchy and entirely foreign. “I’ll do it, but this counts as double time for my dad’s damn debt, you hear me?”

“I do, I can give you time and a half.” He was already prepared for the argument, the sly grin planted on that pretty boy face. Well, not totally pretty boy, he did have the telltale signs of some rough tumbling and fighting. A nose that had been broken too many times, a jaw that was stubbled and rough. It took a long stare to decide if I thought he was handsome or not.

It made him look like a totally bad boy. Just not my kind of guy. Janson was too hard, too scary.

He was too honest.

“Good, it’s the boss’s card game, so you’ll want to keep to the same rules.”

“Which boss?” I asked. James or Greyson, which one?

“Greyson.” The sexy dark bad boy with no soul. Of course it was him, his father had never been anything but respectful, I was eye candy, sure, but I was at least mostly covered.  “He requested you specifically.”

The one Janson warned me to stay away from.  Fuck, he noticed me. Exactly what Janson warned me away from. “It’ll be all young guys. I’ll be there, so you’ll have protection if they get handsy.”

Janson was a man of his word. It didn’t make him a good man, but when he said he was going to do something he did it. Didn’t matter if that meant he was going to protect you, or break off all your fingers.

If he said he was going to do it, he did it.

“Alright. Rules?” I asked, clearing that image from my mind.

“Same as before. Do not speak unless spoken to. Do not try to look cute, you are there for scenery. Do your hair and makeup like previously instructed, got it?”

I nodded, I got it. I didn’t like it, but I got it. “Is there anything else, boss?”

“Yeah, you wear that dress and those heels. Nothing else, you got it? That was a specific request.”

“Nothing else?” I asked.

“Nothing.” The timber of his voice scared me. “Orders from the boss.”

Greyson.

My blood turned to ice.

Chapter Two

Joanna

I tugged at the skirt of the little “number” I was being forced to wear, it fit just right and hugged my curves exactly. That didn’t make me feel any better. I knew the way it fit me everyone was going to be looking at me. Leering at me.

That was my purpose after all. I regretted agreeing to the entire thing. Coming to the party, agreeing to my father’s request to work for the Fitzgeralds. I hated the way they pimped me out like I was nothing.  Maybe to them I was nothing, just a pawn easily used when needed. My father was a good man, but he was weak. And he’d used me in the past.

This time, though, I wasn’t just talking his way out of a scrape. I was working off his debt for him. And it made my blood boil.

I’d gone to the address Janson gave me, a hotel in the middle of Inner Harbor, and took the elevator to the top floor. The presidential suite. It didn’t matter if this was the nicest part of town, at the nicest hotel, I didn’t want to be here. Still, I knocked on the door in front of me; a fake smile plastered on my face.

“Jo?” Janson greeted me and then ushered me in, he whispered, “you just made it.”

“You told me to be on time. I am.”

“On time means early, Jo. At least to Greyson.” The hand on the small of my back made me nervous. I side-stepped him and shrugged.

“I did what you told me.”

“Well, now I’m telling you to get into the kitchen and make sure you have all the necessary tools for the wet bar. The guys will be here any minute.”

I did what I was told and went back and forth, from the wet bar to the kitchen, carrying any ingredients I might need. It was all there, everything I would need to make any classic drink, and quite a few new ones too. Greyson was nowhere to be found, at least not yet, but that didn’t matter. I had a job to do. I shouldn’t be thinking about a man like Greyson Fitzgerald.

Or his handsome eyes. The way he looked at me.

No, I needed to avoid him, I need to try to make him ignore me. Janson was right, nothing good could ever come out of that. Ever.

He didn’t even know who I was. He couldn’t, if he did, he wouldn’t treat me with any kind of respect or kindness. He wouldn’t smile at me, request me by name. There was no way he could know.

I felt him before I saw him. All the small hairs on the back of my neck stood up, and I could tell there was a presence behind me. I knew it was him by the smell of his cologne and the warmth coming off of his body. I turned and looked up into his face.

He was already so close.

“Glad to see you could make it,” he said, those eyes staring into mine, judging me. I felt trapped in his gaze, unable to look away.

And he knew it.

I broke away and let the tingle of electricity flow down my body to my most sensitive place. Damn, that he could do that with just a look was going to be a problem.

I shifted and then smiled at him.

“How can I help you, sir?” I kept my voice cold, flat. I wished I could sink into the walls and pretend I didn’t even exist.

“Oh, I can think of a few things I’d like you to do to help me out,” his voice trailed off but I got the gist of what he meant.

I was not amused. “Would you like a drink, sir?” I asked.

“Yes.”

“Gin Rickey, sir?” I asked as I walked over to the side-car that served as the wet bar and looked at him, waiting.

“Yes, I think I’ll start there tonight. You remembered.”

I nodded.

“Might keep you around, Jo.” He grinned and walked over to the seating area. A table had been set up for poker. The green felt shone brightly under the hanging lamp over it.  “Always need a woman to pour me a good drink.”

It was a sleazy sentence, but it didn’t come out sleazy. No matter what he said, it sounded sexy, deep, and mysterious. I didn’t want to coo over his words, but they sent another jolt of electricity through me.

I didn’t say a word, I just went back to tidying up my space.

“You answer the door when it knocks, you greet the guests, ask them what they would like to drink, offer them a cigar. Do you understand?” Janson asked me as he entered the space.

“Yes, sir,” I said.

“Greyson, are you ready to get your ass kicked?” Janson asked him, switching from giving me orders to acting like I wasn’t there. I almost felt resentful until I remembered where I was. Who I was with.

I was not an Irish princess here, no. I was just a worker, someone who was paying off a debt.

I had to keep reminding myself of that fact. This would all be over soon, and then I could forget that it ever happened. That Greyson Fitzgerald even existed.

A knock at the door, I stood up straight, a small burst of adrenaline pushing me forward towards the door. I opened it and smiled at the man who was staring at me. Any man who came to this room would have an invitation, it was as simple as that. He didn’t even say a word to me, he just handed me his coat and walked in.

“Would you like a drink, sir?” I asked.

“Scotch. On the rocks, dear.” He had a voice that sounded like he drank that same drink all day long for forty years, along with three packs a day. Raspy was not even close to describing it. That would’ve been generous.

“Cigar?” I asked.

“I bring my own.” He grinned and opened his suit jacket to reveal a box tucked into the pocket. I couldn’t help but grin.

“Smart,” I said, probably bolder than I should’ve been.

“I like you, what’s your name?” he asked, looking at me.

“Jo,” I said, but Janson cleared his throat and gave me a stern look. I made an apologetic face and then scooted along to my station and made the new player a drink.

Turned out his name was Jimmy, and the next four players to show up were Jerry, Liam, Sean, and Connor.  By the time, they were seated and playing they all had a drink in their hand, and cigars had been passed around.

I was good at this. It was not the best use of my time or talents, but I was good at it. And I looked good doing it. I hated to admit it, but I did. The dress was a mockery of my entire lifestyle, but I wasn’t oblivious to how it suited my body.

No, it was tiny, but it only made me even more aware of how warm I got every time Greyson stared at me. I swore he spent half of the night looking at me, staring into my eyes.

Whenever it got to be too much, I turned away from him.

“Dammit, Greyson. You always drain my pockets every time I come.” The one name Liam said after the third game. Greyson had won the first two. “Girlie, another old-fashioned,” he barked.

I nodded and got to work.

“What can I tell you, Liam. You need to practice your bluff. I can see right through it.” Greyson sounded amused, but Liam wasn’t.

I handed him his drink, but he grabbed my wrist. “You wanna sit for a spell, sweet-cheeks? I bet with your ass on my lap you’ll turn around my game.”

I glared at him and opened my mouth to speak, but Greyson spoke first. “Let her go. Now.”

It wasn’t calm or kind or joking the way he was before, no, his eyes were dark, his snarl vicious. Liam let go of my hand slowly, the way he would drop a gun, and then pushed me to the side.

“I didn’t mean to-” he started, but Greyson held up a hand.

“It’s fine. I apologize. Please do not touch the lady, she is working tonight as a server. Nothing more.” Greyson cleared his throat and dealt. “Another round?”

All the men nodded. He flung the cards out one at a time, his wrist snapping perfectly, his expression stoic. Everything he did, he did it with assertiveness. It didn’t matter if he was playing cards or taking a beating. He did it with the utmost authority. It was sexy.

He was sexy.

No, I can’t think of him that way. I chided myself. That would only lead me down a path of misery. Janson’s words echoed in my head. “That boy will chew you up and spit you out, and you’ll be helpless to stop it. They all are.”

He was right, I knew he was just from looking at Greyson here and now. He was dangerous. So why did he make my breath hitch every time he looked at me. I furrowed my brow and did my best to avoid him most of the night, look away when he was looking, stay out of his way whenever he got up. But somehow I always found myself staring at him.

Thinking about him.

“Well boys, I think I’m going to call it a night,” Jimmy stood and tipped his hat to me, “Ma’am.”

I smiled at him, and he turned and left, soon all the other men were filing out except for Greyson and Janson.

“Go, Janson, I want a word with our new little bartender,” Greyson said.

The hairs on the back of my neck prickled.

“Yes, boss.” Janson left without looking at him, his eyes away from mine. Like he felt guilty.

“You know you look beautiful in that, don’t you?” His voice was low as he said it, husky. “You look beautiful, but it doesn’t suit you. It doesn’t suit your personality. Now that I see you in it I can only imagine a million other choices that would’ve looked better.”

I swallowed hard. “Sir?” I asked, trying to keep my mind on cleaning up. There were drink glasses and beer bottles scattered around to clean and ashtrays to dump. I busied myself with it, but he stood in front of me, blocking my path to the kitchen.

“Look at me, Jo,” he reached out and tucked a stray strand of hair behind my ear. “Look at me.”

I glanced up into his eyes. They were so full of lust that I almost dropped the glasses I was carrying. I knew that mine were just a reflection of his. My whole body was on fire from watching him, from trying not to think about him and failing.

“What do you think about me?” he asked, his breath hot on my face, the mixture of sweet tobacco and alcohol alluring.

“You’re dangerous.”

“You are right.” He growled out each word and then wrapped an arm around my body. “I’m so dangerous. You really should leave.”

I nodded but stayed where I was. He was touching me, and I didn’t want it to end. “I really should.”

“No one is stopping you.” His mouth was so close to mine, so close. No one was stopping me, but I didn’t turn, I didn’t leave his embrace. I stood there, just looking up at him. He knew exactly what effect he was having on me, and he loved every single second of it.

“I-” Whatever protest I was going to make died away when his mouth came down onto mine. His hungry lips were pressing against mine, forcing them open so that he could explore me with his tongue. I was caught up in his kiss, not protesting, not pressing against him.

Finally, he pulled back.

“Leave. If you didn’t feel a single thing with that kiss, leave now. I won’t fault you, I won’t blame you. Or stay. I want you to.” Greyson said as he looked me over, smiling.

I was shaking, my legs barely able to hold me up off the ground.

“I want to.” Did that even come out of my mouth? I blinked and looked at him.

His grin was wolfish.