Total pages in book: 64
Estimated words: 62637 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 313(@200wpm)___ 251(@250wpm)___ 209(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 62637 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 313(@200wpm)___ 251(@250wpm)___ 209(@300wpm)
“What was that?”
“That’s how I say hello.” I grin and hand my phone to her. “Number, Jessica?”
She frowns. “I don’t think I told you my name.”
“I’m good at guessing.” I wave the phone in front of her.
She takes it and puts her name in it.
Nodding my approval, I snatch it back. “I’ve got to go back to work, but maybe you should go home now? Take a nice, hot bath.” My pupils dilate along with hers.
She nods slowly. “Yeah, yeah, good idea, thanks… Horus.”
“Just doing my job.” The one I miss.
She leaves the bar and nearly runs into another woman walking in.
This new woman… she smells different.
The newcomer has dirty blond hair pulled into a high ponytail; it’s clearly been dyed, but not for a while. The dark circles under her eyes reveal extreme exhaustion. She would be flawless if she didn’t look so tired, with her round innocent face and full, bow-shaped pink lips. Dark lashes slowly fan as she stares at me.
It’s like just looking at me is putting her to sleep.
I shake my head and turn. “Um, sir, excuse me, I noticed the black Soul shirt on you… I’m here for my first shift and—“
Instantly, the wind is knocked out of me, something that never happens. Well, that was unexpected.
I hang my head and turn. “I’m your guy.”
Her eyes widen.
“Training. I’m going to be training you.”
“Oh!” She nods, then drops her purse onto the floor. Is she drunk? All of her things fall out, revealing an obscene amount of energy drink packets and several bottles of prescription pills.
Too bad, I’ll have to fire her.
We don’t allow drunks, or drug users, or girls who…
She reaches for the last bottle, then collapses right in front of me and starts to snore.
What the hell?
CHAPTER TWO
口は災いの元
kuchi wa wazawai no moto
“The mouth is the source of disaster.”
~Japanese proverb
Kit
My eyes feel like they have sand in them, and they’re so heavy that it might take someone physically peeling my eyelids back for me to be able to open them.
I hate the weekends. It’s always harder for some reason, especially with the full moon, but this was the fourth job in two months that I knew would most likely fire me if I didn’t show up.
I did everything right, though.
I took all my medicine on time.
I shoved caffeine down my throat.
But the minute I walked into the darkness of the club and saw him, I felt… safe, warm, and so sleepy I just… fell.
Like a drunken idiot.
I groan a bit, then something hard taps my side. “You alive?”
The voice is really deep and slightly accented, but I can’t really place from where other than if the person belonging to this voice decided to start narrating audiobooks, I would be all over it.
I groan again and try to open my eyes.
His heavy and annoyed sigh isn’t exactly helping the situation. It feels like I’m lying on a soft leather couch; the room smells like Bourbon and cigars.
I make another attempt to open my eyes.
Success!
It’s bright above my head like I’m about to get accused of a crime and interrogated. I blink again, and a face appears in my line of vision.
I don’t really have the words to explain the man I’m staring at. The club had been too dark, but now that I see the light, I don’t think I ever want to turn the lights off again.
His hair is bright blond, almost white; it’s wavy and kisses his broad shoulders. It’s like he missed his casting call for Vikings on Netflix. His eyes are crystal blue, and he has this Henry Cavill sort of Witcher look to him that shows off his strong, flexing jaw and full lips.
I lick my lips in response, maybe because my body has no idea what to do other than stare, lick, stare, and hope I don’t get fired.
He has a black tattoo that outlines his left eye, which reminds me of Egyptian tattoos I’ve seen in pictures, as the edges flick out by the corner of his eye and then trace down into an upside-down triangle. It makes his left eye look so blue it’s hypnotic.
I lean forward, wanting to examine just that one eye’s beauty. It’s perfect, and I don’t even like tattoos.
His eyes narrow. “Are you drunk?”
“No.” I try to sit up and struggle to get my sluggish body in an upright position.
He doesn’t help me.
I finally manage to sit straight on the brown leather couch and look around the room. It’s extremely bare for an office. A few books that look older than the Bible occupy a nearly empty bookshelf. A black wooden desk with a metal chair sits in the middle of the room, but other than that, nothing.
Not even a pen.
Did he just get hired too?
I squint up at him. “How long was I out?”