Scrupulous (An Affliction of Falling Novel Book 1) Read online

  Subconsciously, it had been a way to feel out the situation, to test if my eyes had been deceiving me. She dripped with sex appeal but not in an excessive, slutty way. More so in a graceful, confident, self-assured way. Before I knew it, my need to be buried balls deep in her had me wrangling her back to my room with a quickness that had no explanation. It was worse than being a horny young bloke. The desire was mutual; I could see it in her eyes at the bar.

  Stripping her bare had been better than every Christmas combined. The taste of her sweet cunt and orgasm spilling into my mouth rivaled all birthdays. Her fit yet curvy body made me want to drop to my knees and thank the heavens for such perfection. Jesus Christ, and the way she makes love? I quite literally forgot who the fuck I was to my very soul as she completely took over my mind and body. I thought that kind of shit only existed in fairy tales and Hollywood movies.

  Yet, here she is, in the flesh, making me question everything I thought I knew. Which leads me to what I am about to do now in her cruel absence. Sure, yeah, it isn’t the most honest act but something beyond reason is fueling this. One glorious night with her of the best sex I’ve ever had will never be enough. She wouldn’t let me in during our time together, kept me on the fringes of knowing her. It ticks me off that this woman fled off into the wee morning hours, not allowing me tend to her or see her home like a proper gentleman should after a night like that. Good thing I don’t play by the rules.

  Chapter 4

  Sorcha

  Waking up late Friday afternoon, I stumble into my little studio’s bathroom and soak my sore body for an hour in an Epsom salt and lavender oil bath. As the steam wafts over me, I reflect back on what caused my body this distress and smile like a Cheshire cat.

  Delicately tracing the fingerprint-shaped bruises on my hips where he had marked me in a fit of insatiable lust, an odd, erotic longing seats itself into my soul. Last night with Gavin was magnificent and lasted until closing. Holding together my sexy façade until I collapsed into the back of a taxi was no easy feat. He had insisted on driving me home, but I’m not stupid. Well, not entirely. After losing myself completely with him, I had to implement at least one of my rules. They don’t get to know where I live. Attempting to forget him, I begrudgingly force my mind to turn to the to-do list now at hand.

  Tonight is the first of many long weekends to come. Halloween falls on a weekday next week, which means that this weekend is going to blur into one hard party. Daz requires us to dress up for the festivities; most of the wait staff will be coming as some form of sexy bee or whatever. As I love pin-ups, it looks like I will be a pin-up cowgirl in daisy dukes and a plaid shirt with a few buttons strategically left open at the top since my midriff will have to be covered if I opt for the shorts. I will put on my Elvira tomorrow. This night’s outfit allows me my comfy cowgirl boots, which I need after fucking in five-inch heels all night.

  After leaving the warmth of the bath with bitter regret, I dry off before putting on a pin-up doll face and cowgirl hat with pigtails. Then, after throwing back some ibuprofen, I don my long coat and hit my favorite food truck around the corner before hitching a taxi uptown to work; that devilish smile of sweet satisfaction never leaving my lips.

  “Alright everyone, tonight is the first of a busy weekend. Z and L, you will be manning the VIP lounge all weekend. Anastasia will run the front two with the rest of the crew. The rest of you already know where you are stationed. Girls, those of you who are waitressing the front tonight will rotate to the VIP tomorrow night and they will take their turn out here. Tomorrow night, I will lift my dress code rules and you can show as much skin as you desire. As long as I don’t see pussies and nipples showing, I don’t give a shit, hustle that money. Still hope you keep it classy, though. This isn’t a fucking strip club. Have fun tonight, everyone.” With that, Daz promptly leaves us to hustle to our stations and get set up before we are descended upon by the masses.

  The place looks like a Hollywood stage crew had a rager in here. The entire place is decked out in All Hallows Eve finery. Nice, Daz. He is all about the experience. And I am sure those fake corpses that look a bit too real and would be more at home on the set of a horror flick will delight the patrons. There will be no cheap dollar-store décor for him. If ever a holiday needs a poster child, Daz, can be can on to overpay for the finest. He even set about enough smoke machines to coat the floor to the point where no one could see their shoes at any point.

  “What the fuck happened to you last night?” Samuel demands with his ‘serious as fuck’ face giving me nowhere to hide as we begin to set our bar up.

  “I, uh… intended to leave but got distracted.” Shit. My cheeks heat under his sudden onslaught of concern, he can read it all over my face.

  “You hooked up with someone from the club?” Samuel almost drops the glass he had been polishing as his jaw hits the ground.

  “It wasn’t like that. I didn’t mean for it… aye- feck it to hell,” I grumble. He towers over me, hands on hips, eyes glaring... or perhaps it is his goth eye makeup upping the ante. For once, I can’t tell if he is pissed or just pushing for details.

  “Who? You never screw local. What or who got into you?” His worried tone dissipates into an inquisitive one.

  “Can we talk about this later? I feel like hell already, and we have people walking in in T-minus ten minutes.” My attempt to put him off isn’t going to work, but it’s worth a try.

  “We will talk now. Do you even know his name?” he digs as he grumpily puts the glass back down with a rattled ‘clink.’

  “Yes, he was quite an arse too. Apparently, that turned me on.”

  “By the looks of it, more than that. You look as bad as you say you feel.”

  “Ah, thanks! You really know how to make a girl feel better.”

  “Take a shot and pull it together. You’re not getting out of it that easily.”

  “Alright! I don’t want it beaten out of me. Later it is.” The first pair walks through the door and heads up to the bar, silencing his attempts.

  Around midnight, the place is packed, the dry ice has fogged up the joint to waist level, and glow-in-the-dark accessories have turned this high-class place into an upscale rave.

  “Pardon me, miss, but you look like you need a horse,” a distantly familiar southern twang rings out from the crowd, catching my attention. Crap! My cowboy from last weekend.

  “Hey doll, back in town so soon? What can I get you…?” Hell, what was his name?

  “It’s Tobias. Here all week, leave Thursday. Make me whatever you want, but make it impressive.” He shamelessly flirts, not hurt by the fact that his name was lost to me.

  Shit, he is not the first to seek me out at the bar for seconds, but I don’t double dip. And some things will need to stay closed for business all weekend for repairs after last night. God help me, Tobias is looking fine, though. Making a show and flipping a few bottles in the air as I pour a concoction into a highball glass, I concurrently light the glass as I add the cinnamon, adding sparks to the flame. Bending at the hips, I blow a few more flakes from my fingertips into the flames for a sizzling effect before sliding the glass over to him. He blows out the lingering flame and shoots the entire glass fast, lust written all over his mug.

  “Phew! That’s a strong one with a bite. Mighty fine little trick you got there.” He winks and leans in closer.

  “Can I get one of those?” Another robust voice promptly cuts through the exchange taking place with Tobias. That same voice rockets through me, igniting my loins to the same degree as the drink I had just set on fire. Ignoring the source, decidedly as pissed at the intrusion as I was turned on, I pour a tall one for Tobias.

  “Here’s a beer, cowboy, to chase the spice and clear your palate. Let me know if you need anything else.” I wink back and overtly lean forward to clear his shot glass.

  Turning to Gavin with a face full of scorn, I am met with the possessive, darkening of his own eyes. I don’t want to break character and r
isk pissing off my boss, but it is entirely too tempting to slap him for somehow finding me.

  “How on earth can I possibly help you?” I grit out, losing my cool.

  “You know exactly how, starting with a drink,” he bites back, clearly unhappy with me. Tobias tips his head forward to glare at Gavin, jealousy as well as a protective energy radiating from his puffed-up stance. But he manages to keep his mouth shut, even if he seems ready to jump in on my behalf. Shit. Shit. Shit!

  Repeating the same movements to mix up the drink for Gavin, I skip the flirty end and simply slide the drink over.

  “No fancy ending? Can you at least blow it out for me?” he wickedly tempts, that dark edge of his calling to some unnamed part of me.

  Bending back at the hips, I pucker my cherry-red lips and strategically blow the drink out with a quick puff.

  “Hmmm, what is that one called, L?” He drags out my name in a manner that questions more than just the drink’s name.

  “Backdraft,” I snap before giving a small curtsey. “Gentleman, I am needed at the other end.” Before either can request anything else, I head to see my favorite customer.

  “Z, can we swap spots? Please?” I beg with an urgency that causes him to track the offending man who could cause me duress.

  “Shit, you didn’t! Do you have any idea who you’ve done? And he’s sitting next to last week’s meal? Damn it, L. Fine.” He huffs and swaps me.

  Quickly tending to a few of my favorites, I resume my shameless flirting and showy drinks, thankful for Samuel having my back. Tobias attempts a few times to get to this end of the bar or catch my attention, but he is lost to the crowd. He finally gives up and heads out. Gavin must have disappeared as well; he is nowhere to be seen. Thank God. As I fall into step with Samuel, we seamlessly carry out the night without another hitch.

  Finally, Samuel vocalizes last call and the last few drunkards flood the bar. After all had been satiated and car services arranged, we are finally left in peace to clean up. That is, until Gavin reappears from thin air as I am in the process of attempting to stack a heavy pallet of dirty glasses.

  “What kind of fuckery are you up to? Patrons should be exiting!” I warn in a startled gasp as he had scared the crap out of me.

  “Tsk-tsk-tsk. That mouth of yours. Is that any way to talk to a paying customer?” He effortlessly takes the burdening load and finishes the distance to the top of the stack that I had been futilely attempting.

  “Customers are all leaving. This is borderline stalking,” I harrumph as the pallet finally settles into place.

  “Hmmm, perhaps. Better take you home then.”

  “No, thank you.”

  “Now she has manners.” His wicked gaze rakes over my body in a dark invitation.

  “I can be quite accommodating when I choose.” It is all I can do not to stick my tongue out at him.

  “I remember.” His muscular frame inclines closer to mine, attempting to work the same triggers that had me melting in his palms last night.

  “Sorry, that was a one-night thing. I don’t do seconds,” I abruptly draw my line in the sand before he can successfully debase my loose morals.

  “That’s alright. This would be─ what? Fifths- sixths?” He ruefully calls me out. Samuel keeps his distance and pretends to be oh-so-busy cleaning up, with one ear turned our way. Bastard heard it all. Hank chooses that moment to come in and wait for me but oddly doesn’t ask Gavin to leave, which chaps my hide even further.

  “Z, I’m all done. See you tomorrow. My guard is here to see me out. Good night, Gavin.” Cocking a barely covered and still very sore hip from his greedy fingers, I grab my bag from behind the bar.

  “Hank, no worries. I will see this one out,” Gavin calls over to Hank, who shrugs and takes leave.

  “What the hell?” An incredulous look overcomes me as my heart slams in worry against my ribs.

  “Mouth, girl. Let’s go.” Taking me by the elbow, he leads me out. Samuel gives me a ‘you’re on your own’ shit-eating grin and gathers up his own belongings, paying us no mind. What the fuck is going on and what does Samuel know that I don’t?

  Down at the taxi stand, Gavin starts to lead me away from the lined-up cabs. Grabbing my arm back and halting in a huff of fury, I plant my feet near the last yellow cab. City lights flicker all around as distant engines hum and random horns sound out, mirroring my internal dilemma.

  “Enough. I am not your rag doll to be dragged around. Thank you for seeing me down, I will take this one.”

  “Why won’t you allow me to drive you home, Sorcha?”

  His use of my real name forces me to pale before my Irish temper tips me into seeing red. The way my real name rolls perfectly across his lips turns me on without warning. His pronunciation is void of the typical massacring by American tongue, calling to my pissed-off soul.

  Crossing my arms tightly across my chest, which heaves the cleavage up even higher, I squint my eyes at him as I process all the facts. My brain works in overtime, aligning all the details in rapid succession. “Let me guess─ you are the notorious head of security, Gavin, that I have heard so much about, and you conveniently breached my privacy by misusing your privileges. Fan-fucking-tastic. Now, if you will excuse me, I have a different flavor planned for tonight and he is waiting.”

  Gavin bristles while his face becomes shadowed with something that makes my skin crawl and hackles stand at attention. Samuel knew this man and Hank would never back down to anyone but his lead, it makes perfect sense. Ripping open the last cab’s door, I jump in and lock it. If he knows my name, he also knows where I live and my phone number. Somehow, even though I feel like he most likely isn’t a dangerous threat, he is.

  Muttering to myself like a crazy old bag lady as I walk in my door, I am half surprised that he isn’t here waiting for me. It was a shit move to pretend I was off to have some fun with another, but there was a message that needed to get across. I fuck who I want, when I want, and there will be no questioning of my actions by anyone but me. And I don’t take kindly to someone laying claim on me like some piece of property.

  Stripping off my clothes and readying for bed, my mind sifts back through all the facts. Gavin Durham, head of security with a seedy past which has been rumored to possibly be thick with mob involvement. Daz hired him because of his unsurpassed skillset and ability to uphold complete discretion for our cliental whilst keeping everyone safe.

  He is the thing nightmares are made of by some accounts and has been rumored to have worked for Daz’s multiple establishments for almost a year now. Few staff have met him, and possibly done more, as he has a certified fan club. I am not sure how I have never managed to meet the man myself. Then again, I rarely associate with the staff any more than necessary. If he was at Velvet Rope, parading around with no question or re-direction from staff, then the rumors of Daz owning that as well must be true.

  For avoiding my number one rule of messing around with anyone who I could remotely run into on a daily basis, I just fucked up big time. Even in college I wouldn’t date, preferring to seek out others far from the circles I traveled in to relieve my stress. It has been easier that way and has allowed me to stay focused. The few times in college that I attempted to date someone on a remotely serious level; it led to more drama than I had time for.

  Despite Breonna and the pleading of my parents, settling down hasn’t ever been a priority. My insane drive to obtain a higher education wasn’t taken seriously by anyone, even after I graduated top of my class in undergrad and was quickly swept up into medical school. I worked my butt off and played even harder in my free time. Alas, the stories that my playtime managed to generate via my sister shadowed the family, lending to their inability to fully believe in my abilities. My rules and tastes quickly matured during this phase as it was essential for my personal safety as well as protecting my aspirations.

  Logically, being swept up into romance didn’t make sense then or now. How can one commit when they don’t really k
now what they want or like, or, just want to sample the rainbow a few times over to be sure? It is hardly fair to someone to half-ass attempt commitment with them. I couldn’t do that to another. With the hours I put in at med school, and then residency, there was never time for relationship nonsense, nor did I want to invest the effort. One failed attempt solidified that.

  Many have tried to analyze me and always think that some trauma, or messed up past has led to my behavior. Nope. I have amazing parents and a pretty damn good life all around. Aside from listening to the workplace gossip once in a while, I avoid drama at all costs. I have seen how short life can be for some firsthand and don’t want to waste a minute of it on unnecessary spectacles. Following my dreams and hearts desires as I see fit is my focus as well as a promise I made myself when I dropped out of my residency program. Gavin Durham is nothing but heartbreak and trouble wrapped up in one delicious package with drama stamped all over it.

  Gavin

  That little minx did not just turn down my direct order to take her home to run off with some other douche. What the fuck is wrong with me? Why do I even care? That went all sorts of wrong. I am not used to playing cat and mouse. Women fall easily into my grasp if I show even the slightest bit of interest, and this one wants nothing more to do with me. Not since my days as a stringy kid trying hard to prove myself on the streets have I wanted anything more. This is ridiculous and makes absolutely no sense.

  “Oy! Ya fucktard! Get the fuck out of the road!” a belligerent cab driver yells, taking my focus away from the trail of nothing Sorcha’s taxi has just left as the sounds of the city burst back into my ears.

  Ignoring the bastard, I slouch back up to the office to finish some paperwork. Daz won’t wait for his weekly reports. They will be finalized and delivered to his desk by the end of the weekend or he will be so far up my ass, I won’t be able to walk right. Thank God Daz had the smarts to put in all the back walkways so that we can avoid the staff when trying to do our jobs. Lurking in the shadows and seeing all without being seen is mandatory in this business. There is always some hot shit who thinks they can get away with selling the latest designer drug or take advantage of some young drunk chick in our establishments─ that’s just to name a few slimy acts we put the kibosh on.