Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 77160 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77160 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
“Unfortunately, Monroe has to stay here tonight. I have a private event she is singing at.”
“Pity,” Milo said.
I couldn’t tell if he was laying the charm on thick or if he was just that smooth. It was killing me that I wouldn’t get a chance to find out. Because a man like him wouldn’t be lonely long. He’d have someone else sitting across from him at the restaurant in no time.
“You’re welcome to join,” Frank said.
“For what?” Milo asked.
“Some drinks. Cigars. Poker. And the company of Monroe, of course.”
God, he made me sound like an escort.
Milo’s gaze slid to me again, taking me in for a long moment before meeting Frank’s again.
“Where?”
Frank waved an arm out at the room that was already getting emptied of the little tables I adored so much.
“In that case,” Milo said, eyes on me again. “I’d love to.”
“Monroe, shouldn’t you be… freshening up?” Frank asked.
I held back the eye roll.
I was sure I still looked fine.
But I did need a cup of hot water for some soothing tea.
“If you’ll excuse me,” I said, offering Milo a smile.
I ignored Frank.
He got more than enough attention from me on an average day. And he was the one who wanted me to be flirty with his special guests.
“Give them the fantasy,” he would say. Then, with his usual charm, he added, “But I better not find out you were on your back or knees for them.”
He was constantly suspicious that I was banging high rollers in my free time. Or doing sex work on the side.
He claimed it was because he wanted to maintain an upscale and untouchable aura with “his girls.”
I thought it had more to do with the fact that he couldn’t have me, so he didn’t want anyone else to either.
Typical.
I put a little sway into my step as I made my way back out of the lounge, then hustled through the back web of hallways, grabbing a teabag from my dressing room, and rushing to the kitchen for a cup and hot water.
I kicked off my shoes, carrying them in the crook of a finger on a slow walk back to the stage, sipping my tea, feeling it coat my vocal cords, which still felt pretty good, but I knew were going to feel sore after another set.
“Everything alright?” I asked when I got back to the door and saw Archie leaning against the wall, cradling one of those instant heat packs between his hands, his joints swollen with arthritis.
“New setlist,” he said, producing a piece of paper.
“Seriously?” I asked, dropping my shoes so I could take the list.
“He just gave it to me. I would have warned you sooner.”
“This is atrocious,” I declared, glancing up at him.
“I had to look up that second one,” Archie admitted.
“Did you have enough time to learn it?”
“One listen is enough for me.”
That wasn’t an exaggeration. I’d never met someone like Archie, who could listen to a song once and know it for life.
“We’re slowing it down, though, right?” he asked, dropping the heat pack in his pocket and flexing his fingers.
“Yeah. Slow them all down a bit. They’re almost all too poppy for this kind of event.”
I took the arm he offered me so I could get back into my shoes, then drained my tea, rolled my shoulders, and studied the list one more time before handing it back to him.
“Ready?” I asked.
As an answer, Archie just exhaled hard.
Yeah, I knew the feeling.
Except I wasn’t dreading it like I’d been earlier.
I waited to hear the soft sounds of Archie playing the piano before I moved into the room.
Frank’s usual crowd was gathered: a few local businessmen whom he was forever sucking up to. Only one gave me the slimy vibes like Frank did: a tall guy with linebacker shoulders and a hangover waist, bushy reddish-blond hair, and an atrocious mustache that always seemed to hold the remnants of his last meal inside.
There were two unfamiliar faces, both of whom turned to rake their gazes over me as I came in.
But I only had eyes for one man.
Milo was leaned back against the bar, his fresh drink in his hand, his gaze lazily sliding over me. But in a way that made me feel appreciated instead of objectified.
When his gaze made it to my face, he lifted his drink in a small salute and took a sip.
My belly flipped.
My pulse skipped.
I didn’t remember the last time I felt such a sudden and overwhelming urge to be with a man. But I wanted nothing more than to grab him by the tie and walk him like a dog out into the back hall and have him screw me up against the wall.
It was those thoughts that added a sexy rasp to my voice as I got to the stage and started my set.