Jinx

“Marcus! Hey Marcus!” Devin’s low voice suddenly snapped me out of my frightening daze. Or maybe it was his hands on my shoulders, slightly shaking me.

I stared at him in panic and realized that I had been standing at the bar for God knows how much time. Apparently, long enough for the ice cooling down the drinks set on my tray to melt completely. Shit! It was all that bastard’s fault that I had been unable to concentrate properly for over… twenty-five minutes as my watch let me desperately know.

“What’s happening to you, dude? Spacing out like that. It’s not like you! Come on! Get a grip on yourself and move your ass back to work. Your customers are waiting and you know how difficult they can be when they feel like we’re not at their beck and call…” Devin cheered me up the best he could, his eyes full of earnest concern.

“Sorry Dev’. It’s just that… Crap! Just give me five minutes, ok?” I pleaded with the best puppy eyes I could and this time it worked. Thank you again holy make-up! Devin sighed and walked back to his tables, gracefully swaying his hips.

What’s happening to me, huh? Beat me if I know! I rubbed my eyes tiredly and ran my fingertips in my hair in a soothing gesture, trying to slow down my frenzied pulse. With very little success. That has to stop now! Shit! Stop staring at the fucking entrance each time somebody walks in as if your life is depending on it! If it was his intention to come in, he would already have. God! I’m acting like a little kid afraid of the monsters hidden under his bed and in his closets. Such a pussy! Except that my devil is from flesh and blood. Real. And strong.

Two encounters within twenty-four hours were far enough to convince me that the difference in force between us was way too big for me to even dream of ever having the upper hand with him. Maybe if he suffers a broken arm, I’ll have a chance. Make it two and I’ll be able to beat the crap out of him. Hey! Don’t take me for a heartless thug who blows his mind by messing with defenceless people. I’m not. I’m just too angry at myself for having let him do every single thing he wanted to me. Well, it’s not exactly like I let him have his way with me. If I remember correctly, I put up quite an honest fight. Pathetically useless. But honest.

Gah! Who does he think he is, forcing this shit on me? Like he has the right to boss me around! To make me his! I fucking belong to no one! In which language must I tell him to make him understand, huh? Chinese? French? Russian? Not like I speak any of these languages. But I can learn.

Like he gives a damn! Never mind. It’s quite clear that he’s got a compulsive possessiveness problem! Perhaps a little stay in a white padded room would help cure his sickness. Or not. He would just threaten the doctors to sign him out. Poor doctors.

God! I hate him so much… And yet… Yet, I can’t help reacting to his touch. And that’s what’s petrifying me, trapping my boiling mind in the endless replay of our accidental meeting. And why I’m in such a fury. Because. That. Can’t. Be. I’m straight for God’s sake! I’ve never been into men. That is, until now. Argh! I loathe absolutely everything about him. So why?

Why can I still feel the phantom of his hands tickling my neck, my back and lower? Why am I not able to stop this abnormal burning sensation from spreading from every inch of my clothed skin he caressed roughly? Why did my heart race and my body heat rise in response of his chest pressing hard against mine? I don’t want it! I don’t want to anticipate his next move as if I desire more. More contact with him. It’s as if every fucking cell in my body has suddenly decided altogether to rebel against me in the worst betrayal ever! I hate him even more now. Because it’s his damned fault I’m acting like that!

Okay, technically, I can’t blame him entirely because I’m kinda sexually frustrated. More like I haven’t done anything for a very long while. Like twenty-two years. I’m a virgin in fact. Don’t even go there because I’m fully aware of the nonsense sprouting in that devious mind of yours. 22. Still a virgin. What a dork! Go to hell! Sorry to disappoint you, but it doesn’t reflect the truth. Not exactly. It’s only the logical outlet of the accumulation of distressing circumstances. No time, no money, not willing to just fuck some cutie I won’t ever see again in the shadows of a back-alley. One night stands aren’t my thing. Old fashioned I bet.

It’s not like I didn’t get any chance to hook up with hot chicks. I did. Plenty of times during crazy parties. I had simply never been wasted enough to lose myself in a mind-blowing sex session. Grunts, moans, sweat, and body friction were barely good enough to fill some fucked-up carnal desires. Doesn’t sound very appealing. If that’s all there is to share, it’s quite deceitful don’t you think? It’s not about being head over heels for one girl and all that crap. I’m not such a babe that I yearn for bullshits like intimacy, heated gazes, shivers, cuddles, sweet words whispering in attentive ears, and so on. Still… I want more than the lusty passion of a horny single moment. Here’s my point, got it?

Urghh! Maybe I’m a dork indeed. No, the right term is romantic. Very nineteenth century, I know. Who am I trying to convince here? I’m a loser and so what? I don’t give a fucking damn. Well, that’s not entirely right now that I’m very aware of the consequences of leaving my needs unattended. Yep, it appears that my neglected cock is now craving for every little attention it could receive. Even the one of a damned fucking twisted brutal beast. Stupid, stupid cock! Don’t even dare responding to his enticement if only by twitching the next time he rubs on you. No! There will be no next time. Whatever! Anyway, like hell he’s arousing me!

Crap! There’s no point in denying reality, however much revolting it can be. I neither know how nor why he’s able to turn my body against me but if it continues like this, I won’t last long at this power game. I’ll lose myself for sure in the thrill he manages to trigger in me. As if he’s got a fucking guide to show him how to push all the right buttons to turn me on. But I don’t want to give in so easily. I won’t let him screw up my life. I can’t afford it. I. Won’t. Give. In. He’ll never have my soul for sure. Poor consolation, isn’t it? Sounds desperate. Almost hysterical. And soooooo girly! Damn it! But the tiny satisfaction of knowing that at least I would be able to keep a semblance of dignity because there was effectively a piece of me that would remain mine no matter what sufficed to strengthen my will to fight him tooth and nail. Here’s my new resolve. The battle I won’t lose. I will keep my ground at all costs and make his cockeyed interest in me fade away. How? Let’s be honest. I don’t have fucking a clue. But I’ll find a way out of this mess. I always do. Just wait and see, bastard! I’ll be ready for you. Now that it’s settled and my mind is a bit more at ease, back to work lazy waiter! And back to work I went, with a creepy grin hanging on my lips.


It was a quarter to ten already and I hummed softly, skilfully zigzagging between the tables, nodding and smiling politely to acknowledge the regulars sitting out of my serving area. I winked mischievously at Devin who rolled his eyes in response, obviously relieved that I reverted back to my cool but teasing usual attitude. Hey, everything was in order. I saw Dev’ staring at Miles a few seconds and I shook my head, amused to witness his tender eyes dwelled on his crush as soon as he believed Miles couldn’t see him. But, hey, you know what? Miles was far from blind and had seen right through Dev’s little game like a million years ago. Though he didn’t say a word because he loved it so much it made him feel like an unattainable princess. I shrugged. Those two were really impossible! Guess love makes all of us act like idiots. You tell me.

I cleared out a table, putting the empty glasses on my tray and saw the customers, a very aristocratic couple, out, holding the door for them. I sighed happily when they disappeared from my sight, literally eaten by the darkness of the night, their sneers and disdainful behaviour with them. Hang on! There were only fifteen minutes left for me and I was free to go meet my prince charming. That is… my bed. Won’t say no to a few hours of sleep. I bit back a yawn and welcomed four outstanding middle age men, arguing about the recent disgrace of one of their business partners so loudly that I was forced to listen to their idle talk while leading them to their table. Shut up, please! Don’t you see that you’re embarrassing yourself? Apparently not. I swear being a waiter sometimes required all my self control.

I put my ebony tray on the glass bar and caught the attention of an insecure hyperactive Greg with a slight wave of my index to ask him for my new orders. He hurried towards me, uneasily sweeping his sweating palms on his apron to prevent the tricky glasses from slipping away between his yet expert fingers, like that had already happened two or three times earlier. Normal Greg was all but light-headed, and his current clumsiness was giving me the creeps.

As the hours ticked by, the colours had gradually drenched from his face and he hardly managed to stagger on his wobbling legs without passing out. Yep, it was that bad. His growing anxiousness was even beginning to repel the few customers that had the misfortune to venture at the bar rather than sit quietly at a table. I’m pretty sure they were actually praying for the poor bartender to faint, in order to escape from his communicating stress. Let’s say for their defence that his ‘I’m walking to my death, please finish me off’ attitude was quite a turn off. At this point, even I was willing for this damned owner to show in, not that I was enchanted at the perspective of a work inspection, quite the contrary in fact, but if we didn’t get rid of it and fast, Greg would certainly die on us right here from an heart attack. Or a devastating stomach ulcer. Pick the better of the two.

“Hey! Why don’t you take a break to calm down a little, huh? Eli can manage by himself for a few minutes.” I suggested softly to the shaking Greg and was greeted by a dark glare from the Eli in question.

I don’t fucking care. It’s not like Eli’s my friend. As you probably can tell, I don’t like him. Well, if he was not a sick homophobic jerk, maybe I wouldn’t hate his fucking guts. It seems that Eli is convinced that it is his shitty duty to make Devin and Miles’ existence a living hell, and the latter are too sweet-hearted to pay him back for his sneaky pranks. It pisses me off. So I don’t waste any opportunity to make him taste his own medicine. Serves him well. I sent him a sardonic smile of my own, silently daring him to complain in front of Greg, who hardly ever took a break and worked harder than any other member of the staff.

Being the manager, he could effortlessly slack off since no one would tell him off about it. But Greg was honest and very conscious about his job so he didn’t do that crap. Since Eli was a master in ass-licking, another serious reason for me to want to kick him where it hurts (I leave the exact location to your vivid imagination…), he just nodded to Greg and gave him a fake smile. I stuck childishly my tongue at him in annoyance. Since I couldn’t get to beat him, that was better than nothing.

“It may be a good idea indeed. I’m not feeling too well.” Greg admitted, tucking nervously a strand of his hazel hair behind his ear with his trembling fingers, laughing oddly his embarrassment away. “I’m going outside for a bit. Maybe grabbing some fresh air will do me good.” He whispered in a tiny shaky voice.

“Sure.” I affirmed, shooing him away to make sure that he would indeed put some distance between him and the poor glasses.

Hey, the latter were just innocent victims of his stiffness. They hadn’t done anything wrong to deserve such a terrible end, being thrown in pieces in the trash. So sad! Just a joke. I couldn’t care less about the glasses’ fate except that if tornado Greg didn’t stop his damages like right now, we would have to serve the customers in beakers. Not so classy. But it could be fun to see their struck outraged expressions. Shit! I won’t know now that Greg is gone.


About ten minutes later, a very agitated manager stomped his way in, his cheeks flushed by more than the cold night, his eyes sparkling with anxiety. He waved at me to get my attention and I cursed my fucking bad luck under my breath, because I was pretty certain I wouldn’t like what he had to tell me. As I approached him, he grabbed the sleeve of my shirt in a surprisingly strong grip for such a small guy and leaded me swiftly behind the curtains, in the staff private area. He was panting slightly and I supposed he had hurried back in the club for whatever reason worthy enough to put him in such a dishevelled state. I let him catch his breath and removed my forearm from his hold without him noticing that his arm fell heavily on his side.

“The owner is upstairs with a few guests of his. In the VIP lounge.” Greg managed to slur out between deep gasps.

“At last. It’s a bit late but it’s better than the wait, isn’t it?” I replied smoothly, slowly stroking his shoulder to calm him because he was a nervous wreck. I almost pitied him. “Don’t worry too much. It’s gonna be alright, okay? Relax.” I cheered him up warmly. I was looking for his eyes to reassure him but he promptly averted them to the floor, obviously refusing to lock gazes with me, suddenly turning pink. He blushed so furiously that even his ears and neck were a beautiful shade of red. Oh oh. This isn’t good.

“I want you to attend to them.” He whispered so softly that I figured out his words rather than heard them.

Damn! Hell no! That’s not going to happen. I’m sure now. Somebody’s picking a voodoo doll bearing my face with a needle and taking pleasure in torturing me. You should stop cause when I’ll find you…

“It’s not like I don’t want to help you Greg but my shift’s over. Can’t you ask Devin or Miles?” I whined and sent him a compassionate but firm look.

However, his desperate glance beat me. Crap! He was using his ultimate weapon, staring at me with big begging puppy eyes. God! I can’t believe he used that against me. I know. I’m one to talk.

“No, that won’t do.” He denied, shaking his hand from side to side before resolving to just pleading like there’s no tomorrow. “Please Marcus, do it for me. I’ll ask you just this once, I promise. You’re the most experienced waiter we have here…” He took a deep breath and pursued hesitantly. “I can even pay you over time if it’s the issue.”

Hey, I’m a little bit offended there. As if I was such a money-whore that my good will’s depending only on how much I could take advantage of the situation! Yeah I’m poor but I can still help a friend without gaining anything in exchange. It’s just that presently I’m not that keen on letting my hardly earned rest slip between my fingers yet. At least, not after trying to recapture it in my clenched fists first. And what was the big deal with all that shallow flattery? Most experienced waiter? My ass! Devin and Miles are as qualified as I am for the job. And as far as I know they are still on duty! So cut me a frigging break! Greg was anxiously munching on his lower lip, staring blankly at a fixed point on the wall beside me. Huh? What the hell is he hiding?

“Cut the crap. What are you not telling me?” I argued, my tone a tad much offensive than I wanted. Greg shivered uncomfortably under my stern gaze.

“I’m sorry Marcus but it’s not like I have a choice.” He stated, almost calmly, obviously testing the waters before dropping the bullet.

Huh? What? Why no choice? I don’t get a damn thing about what he’s referring to. Someone help me! No? Okay! Take it like that, I’ll find out all by myself. As I couldn’t come up with something more appropriate to answer and was becoming rather fed up with the prolonged silence, I just snapped at him.

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

He forced himself to look up and eyed me cautiously, a puzzled expression marking every single inch of his face as a consequence of the harshness of my tone. Come on! Just spit out whatever you have to say. We don’t have all night. At least, I don’t.

“It’s a personal request from the owner that you, and you alone, are to serve his guests and him.” He blurted out, flushing slightly as my green eyes darkened with anger at the news of such a selfish demand from this prick.

Hell! I don’t even know this damned Mr. Lowell, established as the club’s owner on my work contract, and I already don’t like him. Must be another one of these small fatty guys that use to frequent this kind of classy place to put on a show, wearing ludicrous whiskers and greasy hair, with sweaty palms stuck to the arm of a brainless bimbo shamelessly displayed in an outrageously revealing dress. They uneventfully choose the youngest waiter available, in belief that it would be a piece of cake to impress and crush the pride of the shy cowering youngling, by flaunting their money and insufferable insolence right in his face. Seems to give them some fucked-up sense of importance in front of their peers and underline their outright superiority by treating waiters as their personal slaves.

I snickered at my preconceived thoughts, hoping that I was right because if that was indeed the case, the owner was in for one hell of a surprise when he would discover that instead of the expected submissive scared off youth, he would have to face, well, me. I knew perfectly how to handle these sorta mad dogs. Just ignore them, let them bark to their hearts content, till they tire of it and just shut up. But why me? Miles is far more than me the fragile cutie type. Yep, definitely. I don’t get it. So I raised my eyebrows in a questioning style and blinked at Greg, my mouth torn with a dubious scowl.

“Don’t bother asking me why. He refused to tell me. Maybe it’s simply because you’ve worked here the longest…” He tried, nibbling pensively at his index’s nail, but I had some difficulties to drink his suggestion. “Say Marcus? You’re not… hum… intimate with the owner, are you?” He let out almost shyly and immediately covered his mouth with his hand as if he hadn’t planned to word out loud that thought that seemed to have turned in his head for a while.

As for me, I was too stunned to utter what was on my mind, that is not much at this time. Totally unexpected. He really threw me off with this one! I gasped in blatant surprise, then hissed in disgust as the idea of intimacy with the plain and despicable prick I pictured earlier was making its way through my brain. Eck! I shrugged to chase away the sickening images dancing in my imagination and shot Greg with a sardonic look he wouldn’t forget so soon. He won’t ever make such assumption so lightly after that.

“No way! I haven’t even got a glimpse of him once in the fours years I’ve been working there. How did you come up with that shit? It’s gross!” I exclaimed, running my fingers in my black messy hair to regain my composure.

Greg smiled bitterly but I caught the flash of relief that passed through his eyes no longer than a few seconds. My God! He really did think that I was doing the dirty with the owner. And I was up to pity him earlier! Forget it! He deserves to die. A menacing groan escaped my lips and made Greg switch back to his well-trained professional behaviour.

“You should hurry. They’re already here. You know you’ll have to make the drinks yourself, do you? You’ll find all you need in the cabinet in the corner of the lounge. See where it is?” He inquired in his manager mode. I grinned teasingly. I was no rookie in the VIP lounge’s attendance after all.

“Yes mummy. I’ll try to behave.” I laughed, but it sounded a bit sour as I was not yet completely resigned to my fate.

“Don’t try. Do it.” Greg pretended teasingly to scold me.

He patted my shoulder kindly and watched me intensely, letting me silently understand that he trusted me and was counting on me. He was dead serious. I felt a heavy weight press on my head as I fully registered that we were all risking our necks and that I’d better not screw up this one. I swallowed hard, my wind-pipe suddenly constricted by the oppressive aura spreading around us.

“I’ll do my best.” I gulped in a solemn promise. Greg sighed and scratched his head, leaving my side to head silently towards the main room.

“I know. That’s why I hired you in the first place.” He reminded me, lifting the curtains to give us enough way to slip back in the musical agitation of the club.


I straightened my back and climbed the stairs leading to the VIP lounge at a calm pace. A very very calm pace. Yep, I’m not in a rush to discover what kind of persons Mr. Lowell and his little friends are and what they have in store for me. Spare me your mocking snarls. I’ll be upstairs soon enough.

“Here you are!” A voice chirped excitingly, and it was indubitably a female. Here’s the bimbo!

I looked up to meet the friendly face of an amazingly beautiful brunette, smiling coquettishly at me, clearly stating that she was perfectly aware of her effect on the male gender. She was standing up on her high heels at the very top of the stairs, nonchalantly leaning on the balcony’s railing, in a black diner dress, sculpting neatly the glamorous forms of her body. Her dark hair was falling freely in a stylish but savaged cascade of deliciously unruly curls on her denude back. Her eyes were almost black, wide opened in a playful expression admirably outlining their sparkles, intently riveted on me. She seemed to be in her late thirties, maybe early forties, but I couldn’t deny that she was stunning. Frighteningly beautiful.

Still, I couldn’t get to suppress the feeling of uneasiness that assaulted me inexplicably at her sight, uncontrollably tightening my guts in a knot. There was something dangerous I didn’t miss in the way she was detailing my face while I was climbing the last steps that separated us. It was supposedly the first time I met her but she seemed strangely familiar. My head was in a blur as if my mind was actively working to open the door condemning some crucial secret of my past and fighting it deadly at the same time to protect my mental sanity. There was something here. I just couldn’t put my finger on it. I flinched imperceptibly when I stepped at her side, but got a hold of myself almost immediately, hiding my growing trouble by bowing slightly before her to show my respect.

From the corner of my eyes, I spotted two men fervently chatting a few steps farther, both dressed elegantly in custom-made grey suits screaming money. Must be the peers. There was nothing special about them. Awfully plain was what qualified them the best. Yep, they were boringly normal. I assumed that one of them was the famous Mr. Lowell that held our fates in his hand. I just didn’t know whether he was the bulky short blond, let’s call him Stocky, or the skinny shadowy pale one, who could have easily passed for a ghost, so Phantom it will be. Considering their already greying hair, I supposed they were around fifty. I cleared my throat discreetly to let them notice my presence and, once I caught their full attention, I nodded reverently to them.

“Good evening, Madam, Misters. I’m Marcus O’Neil. I’ll be your waiter tonight.” I greeted them formally, and as politely as it was expected from me. “Allow me to guide you in the lounge for more privacy. This way, please.”

I indicated for them to follow me and opened the ebony door, isolating the private room from the confused hubbub coming from downstairs. The two guys walked quickly in without even glancing at me and settled down around a glass coffee table, lazily sprawled in two comfortable armchairs covered in black shiny velvet. As I was on the verge of closing the door behind us, the woman gracefully raised her arm to stop me on my tracks.

“Our host will come shortly. I think he’s being reacquainted with his long term deserted office.” She informed me pleasantly before sitting on a black leather couch as a queen on her throne.

I nodded and waited curiously for the owner to make his appearance, still holding the door. So neither Stocky nor Phantom was my employer, huh? This Mr. Lowell was picking my interest by all the mystery gravitating around him. As he came out at the other side of the balcony, from the hallway leading to his office, all colours drifted from my face in a blink. The real thing was nothing alike the big fatty guy with ludicrous whiskers and greasy hair I had imagined. Quite the contrary. Tall. Muscular. Broad shoulders. Impeccable black suit with a blue-night shirt under. Black tie perfectly tied around his neatly folded collar. Naturally inspiring respect and an ounce of fear. Sandy blond hair. Icy blue eyes dancing on me with a satisfied and amused glint. A devious smirk. You bet. Walking confidently towards me, with the face of a predator about to swoop down his prey, was none other than the devil himself. Julian Evans.

What the hell! Why was he here of all places? Oh. God. No. Don’t tell me he’s the owner? No no no no no. That can’t be! Give me my plain Mr. Lowell back! You tyrant! At least now I know why I’m the one specially requested waiter. As his smirk spread even wider, I realized suddenly that all my emotions were openly written on my face for him to read. Makes me want to wipe his arrogance from his face and smack him in his perfectly straight nose. Shit! I can’t! And he knows it, the beam of amusement slyly gleaming in his eyes bluntly betraying him. He tilted his head while brushing against me, intently pausing at the threshold, just a few inches beside me, taking a good look at the lounge in front of him with obvious contentment. Damn it! Why does he have to stop there! Too close! My brain was in alarm and my heart raced as he snickered and looked down on me.

“Good evening, Marcus. After such a long time, I’m glad we’re finally properly introduced.” He purred seductively in my ear, efficiently making my blood freeze in my veins.

I couldn’t repress a shudder descending coldly along my spine when the thought that he must have read through my personal file to find out my name hit me. Glad? I’m certainly not. You sneaky bastard! I’m screwed! Here I thought that I had done pretty bad things for karma to be such a bitch with me. Scratch that. I must have been a scary mix of the worst in both Jack The Ripper and Hannibal Lecter in a previous life! Even with that, I’m sure as hell I still don’t deserve such bad luck. Must be the Voodoo tricks’ fault. I locked my burning eyes with his and grinned widely, closing the door behind us. So you want to play? I’m game.

“Good evening, Mr. Lowell I presume?” I replied politely, playing the role of the innocent waiter to perfection.

Evans chuckled softly and was gratified by a flirting smile when he sat on the couch, right next to the twinkling beauty. Lucky bastard. The brunette possessively put a hand on his forearm and laughed charmingly, her red shiny lips nicely parted to show perfectly lined sparkling teeth. The two others kept awkwardly silent, and I’m positive we might share the same feeling of intruding in the intimacy of the couple cuddling on the couch. Three third wheels were unfortunately not enough to make them realize they weren’t alone.

The woman gently caressed Evans’ cheek, tucking a few strands of his blond hair away from his face in a loving manner. To my astonishment, the bastard took her hand preciously and brought it to his lips, softly pecking the white exposed skin. A small smile spread on his lips, granting a gentle expression to his face. A genuine smile. Not the despicable smirk he always gives me. Two-sided bastard! I rolled my eyes discreetly as he ran his thumb on her jaw and the crook of her neck. Watching this manic psycho act so charmingly like a love-struck puppy makes me want to puke. And no, I’m not jealous. He can go to hell.

“I can’t believe you’re still hiding yourself behind that fake name, Julian! Come on, it’s been six years already! You’re no longer a rookie in business. I think it’s time that you take on your role in society.” She teased him, slapping his hand away to recapture it a second later between her thin fingers.

Julian? Wow! They were on the first name basis. So, they’re really intimate. I guess she’s one of his lovers. Or maybe it’s the other way around. Perhaps he is her boy toy. I snickered silently at the thought, standing in a corner of the lounge, beside the cabinet containing the drinks, all ears on their conversation. They may have forgotten everything about my presence in the room, but I bet I’ll learn a few interesting things on my favourite asshole.

“I like my privacy, Lara. Even if my assets are worth more than five billions dollars at the moment, I can still live my life normally without being constantly pestered by a bunch of reporters. And it’s all thanks to the aliases I use.” Evans explained simply, taking out a pack of Philip Morris from the pocket of his vest.

He trapped a cigarette between his long fingers and put it between his lips, commanding to the guy in front of him to light it with an authoritarian glare. Phantom flinched, flushed then blanched even more than his natural skin colour. Yeah it’s possible. He rummaged hysterically in his pocket in search of the lighter he couldn’t manage to put his hand on to finally turn over me, glancing desperately for help. Forget it! I won’t fall so low to be at that bastard’s beck and call.

But if I ignore his plea, he would use it against me and it would damage our staff’s reputation. Once again, I have no choice but to stomp on my pride. Ouch! Evans eyed me expectantly, waiting for my reaction with a satisfied confidence. I won’t let you win this time! I gritted my teeth and approached Evans silently, trying to burn a hole in his head under my angry glare. I leaned over him to light his cigarette with a flick of my lighter and he grabbed my hand before I could retreat. I bit back a growl and managed to master enough control to not just withdraw my wrist and slapped him across the face like I intended to. Fighting our natural instincts is hard!

“Pour me a whiskey on the rocks.” He ordered coolly, freeing my hand a few seconds later just to let me know that we were playing by his rules. Control freak!

What no thanks? No please? I’m not your slave you know! Remind me to never tell that out loud in front of him because I’m sure he will try to prove me wrong.

“Madam, Misters, may I offer you something to drink?” I asked coldly, lowering my gaze on the coffee table as I suddenly became the centre of attention.

“I’ll have vodka. With ice and a slice of green lemon.” Lara demanded, obviously proud of her refined taste.

“Gin.” Stocky grunted stiffly.

Wow! One word men really exist. I thought it was a myth. But hey! Please is just one word too. Being nice won’t choke you, you know.

“Same here, please.” Phantom whispered, still trembling from before.

I told you it wouldn’t choke you. Look, Phantom’s still alive even if he won’t last long if he can’t chill. I stepped back in my corner without a word, pouring the drinks while concentrating on eavesdropping on their conversation that started anew after my cutting in.

“You have a point. If news of the existence of a thirty years old billionaire, still bachelor, is spread, you’ll have all the girls of the five continents after you. It’s the issue when you’re the major shareholder of the three most profitable bank empires, the CEO of a dozen of worldwide corporations, involved in varied but all extremely lucrative activities, such as real estate developing or petrol industry among others.” Lara laughed musically and whistled in awe.

I smirked at the wall, carefully slicing a green lemon, barely managing to avoid a spurt of acid juice aimed at my eyes. Trust me. Green lemons are also evil. I got to learn more than I wanted about the enigmatic Julian Evans but it was not very reassuring. Almost even scary to discover the extent of his responsibilities and the amount of fortune he accumulated at such a young age. Now I understand why he needs bodyguards. He’s a perfect target for kidnapping for ransom. Poor kidnappers. They wouldn’t get to put a finger on the money. He’s so fucking annoying that they would have shot him dead after two minutes of captivity. Hey, not my fault if he’s pissing people off. But my God! He’s frigging loaded. I’m talking about money here! Not anatomy. I’m straight, remember? I wanted to ask what the fuck such a successful businessman was doing in our little club but Lara anticipated my question.

“What I still don’t understand is your attachment to your restaurants’ chains and clubs. It’s far less profit-making than your other businesses, so why keep them?” She inquired, her curiosity fully exposed in the way she was gluing her waist on his arm, pressing her breasts on his side. Bitch! And no, I’m still not jealous. Damn it!

“It’s just a hobby. It’s quite relaxing to mix with commoners once in a while.” He stated, blowing a puff of smoke in the door’s direction, and sent me an imperceptible mischievous smirk.

A hobby? He was screwing up my life for a hobby! Well, you know what? The commoner fucks you! I tiptoed to the coffee table and set quietly the glasses on the cold surface. I was ready to disappear once again in the shadow of my comfy corner but gasped in surprise when the bastard grabbed my sleeve and yanked my arm sending me flying forcefully until my back hit the wall beside the couch. I swallowed the insults burning my lips and some blood as I had bitten my tongue during the attack. I steadied myself and when Evans was sure that I would remain where he wanted me to be, that is where he could effortlessly keep his eyes on me, he released my torn sleeve. That fucking violent fiend had ripped up the fabric of my shirt! Hey I’m not a girl! I don’t know how to sew!

“You get to meet interesting people.” He snarled at the dubious look on Lara’s face and it was obvious that the woman thought way too much of herself to even set her eyes on common people. So effectively talk to them and get to know about their life! Blaspheme!

Evans pointed his finger at me and immediately three pairs of eyes followed, examining every detail of my being with a medical precision, staring at me as if I was some curious animal in a zoo. Maybe they’ll give me peanuts. I’m kinda hungry.

“Take Marcus, for example, he’s quite a piece of work.” He said casually, turning slowly towards me with an enigmatic smile floating on his lips while I blushed furiously.

“He looks young. You hire them in diapers now Julian? How old is he? He must be a newbie because he seemed barely legal.” Lara bombarded him with questions, apparently unnerved that the attention she craved for wasn’t on her anymore but on some miserable waiter.

Are you blind? I’m still in the room you see. So don’t put such efforts in acting like I’m not here. She glared at me with so much distaste in her whole face that her affected attitude gave me the chills. I shifted my weigh on my other leg and leaned on my side on the wall to be able to face the guests and their hosts.

“I’m twenty-two, Madam. I’ve been working here since I turned eighteen.” I replied, even if the question wasn’t addressed at me.

“What were your parents thinking, letting a kid like you work in such a hostile environment? Don’t you have any other ambition than being a waiter all your life? I swear! Kids nowadays are so useless, moving carelessly from one part-time job to the other without a thought for their future! At his age, you were already running your own business Julian. And you find him interesting? There’s nothing valuable in such an insignificant loser.” She exploded, her hair dancing furiously on her exposed shoulders and I had no other choice than to take it all in my stride, too mortified to break off her speech.

I couldn’t tell what hurt me the most. The blame she put on my dead parents, the lack of consideration she had for me, the blunt disdain she showed about my work and my future, or the excruciate comparison between Evan’s and my own achievements. I stared at her in disbelief while she was sneering with a triumphant smile plastered on her lips at her easy victory. With her words would certainly go the tiny amount of esteem Evan’s had for me.

Like I care! The bastard’s eyes had darkened sometimes along her lines and a dangerous aura was irradiating from every pore of his skin. He was even more handsome with this dark glint around him and Lara fell again in the claws of his magnetic charm. Was he angry for me? No way! That must be because she had openly criticized his judgment. Before he could open his crisped mouth to respond, I took a deep breath and looked down at her, a faint smile across my lips as I saw her puzzled expression when I dared support her gaze calmly, not visibly touched by her fustigations.

“I hope that my parents, were they still alive, would have been proud that their son manages to support himself at such a young age, keeping up studying while working. I don’t plan on being a waiter my whole life, though I don’t exactly see what there is to be ashamed of if I did. But it currently pays my bills and my college fees. Still, I have to thank you for involuntary supporting me. You see, listening to the belittling comments of the club’s customers is what motivate losers like me the most to keep up the good grades and graduate with honours.” I articulated slowly, not missing any change of her expression, from triumph to bitter defeat.

“You’re welcome. It’s my pleasure to give a handout to stray dogs.” She mocked me after a long silence, reversing the tables once again.

My cheeks were burning with humiliation and a cold shiver made me clench my fists until my knuckles cracked. This devilish side of her was altering her unnatural beauty almost to the point of ugliness. As I lost myself in her black eyes, an irrational fear clutched my insides once again and I couldn’t avert my gaze anymore. A curious sensation grew in the pit of my stomach but I couldn’t get it. I saw a younger version of her, with shorter hair and a gentler expression but I couldn’t quite place it. Come on. It’s almost there. A hand landed heavily on my shoulder breaking the magic, squeezing it in a strangely comforting way and I drown in the blue haze of its proprietor’s eyes.

“It’s getting late. Let’s call it a day.” Evans dismissed his guests with a cocky smile, still holding me tightly.

Stocky and Phantom didn’t have to be asked twice according to the way they dashed outside. Well, they only had a token role anyway. Lara looked at me up and down, smiled temptingly at Evans to win him over and pecked his lips chastely. He took her arm and led her to the door, bowing like a gentleman and brushing his lips against her extended hand. An act! It’s all an act! He’s as much a gentleman as I am a panda. Why a panda? Because there’s no fucking way I’ll become one. The same goes for him!

Lara disappeared in the clatter of the clicking sounds produced by her heels on the ground and I tried to follow her tracks but the door shut down at my face. Shit! I flipped over to face the bastard but it was already too late and he swiftly caged me by placing his two hands on each side of my head. There was nowhere to go. How come I always end up trapped by his body? Stop! Don’t panic! You’re still in the club. He won’t do anything. Will he? My blood was pumping through my veins at a frenzied rhythm, and I looked frenetically from side to side to find a way to escape. There was none. Of course! Why waste time checking? An idea, please! Professional! That’s it act professional to spite him!

“Do you have a complaint about the quality of the service Sir?” I inquired formally, intently staring at his tie rather than his face.

“Yes.” He groaned huskily and I realized how close he was when I felt his warm breath on my cheek. Smells like whiskey. Eck.

I looked up at him and he used this second of inattention to slide his hand behind me and locked his grip on the back of my neck to hold my head still as he leaned over me. I put my hands on his chest to push him away but he forced his body against mine from knees to chest. I was so mesmerized by the curious lighting that appeared in his clouded eyes that I didn’t noticed that his other hand had slid between our bodies and was presently pressing between my thighs. He palmed me and smirked at my doomed to failure attempts to writhe out of his grasp. Shit! Shit! Shit! It’s getting worse and worse each time I see him! He squeezed my balls harshly and I let out a strangled scream I managed to silence half-way through.

But as soon as I parted my lips, his mouth crashed harshly on mine, his teeth grazing on my lip and reopening the cut he had made yesterday. He licked the blood dripping on my chin, nibbled and bit gently on my lower lip before forcing my mouth opened with another squeeze lower. My cry was muffled this time as his tongue immediately invaded my mouth, teasing my palate and the soft skin of my cheeks, twirling around my own tongue and sucking hard. Thoroughly exploring. Intense. Almost violent. It was not a kiss. He was raping my mouth. Tastes like whiskey. And tobacco.

I was too stunned to even think about biting down but I’m happy I didn’t because there was no doubt he would have rendered me eunuch as a repression measure. As we were both lacking oxygen, he tore our lips apart in a frustrated growl and I stared at him, completely disoriented, my lips swollen, my breath shallow and my mind unfocused. He tore down the band-aid on my neck with his teeth and sucked hungrily on his previous mark, frighteningly reasserting his possession. Man, it hurts! I snapped my head away to prevent him from bruising me even more but he yanked it back against the wall by my hair. His gaze descended between our bodies to where his hand was rubbing on my dick through my clothes. That’s when I realized my state of arousal and blushed furiously. He laughed full-heartedly, nuzzling at my neck and licking seductively at my ear.

“You’re so full of surprises, Marcus. I wouldn’t dare have dreamt that you were still untouched. That’s quite unexpected.” He purred wryly and my body went stiff.

Oh. My. God. He knows. That man is a psychic! Or not. Perhaps if my fucking cock hadn’t reacted at all from a little kiss and a few hard squeezes like I had clearly ordered earlier, he wouldn’t have found out. You hear stupid stupid cock? That’s official. My brain and my dick are two separate entities with very contradictory ideas in mind. I’m doomed. Wait! Maybe he doesn’t do virgins? Dream on! He sounded satisfied and sooo very excited just now. More like he has a virgin fetish! I’m sooooooo screwed!

I was taken by surprised when he peeled himself off of me and I almost whined at the loss of contact. He walked casually to the couch and nonchalantly sprawled on it, one hand lost in his hair and the other actively loosening his tie. So damned sexy! Don’t take it too far! I’m hard. I can’t think straight. And yeah I’m that frustrated. Wanna give me a hand? I didn’t dare move an inch, my back still pressing against the door, my hair falling messily in front of my eyes, my clothes in a crumpled mess around my sensitive body. Extra sensitive body. God! I’m in front of my employer. No my stalker. No the crazy fucker that thinks he is better than God himself. Bearing the biggest hard-on I ever had. Can it be even worst? He smirked knowingly at my inner turmoil. Yes it can.

“As I informed you yesterday, we need to talk.” He stated and his tone let no room for discussion.

He took another cigarette and lit it with a flick of his lighter. I can’t believe it! Gah! He had a lighter in his pocket all this time! I hate him! Stop wandering. Back to the topic. We need to talk, huh? About what? Something he told me yesterday. Think! Think! Think! That’s it! ‘You’re mine. I’ll discuss with you what this statement entails on our next encounter.’ That’s what he said. Our next encounter? It’s now idiot! Shit! I must get out of here! As I rushed madly for the doorknob, I heard a soft click. What the hell? I turned the handle a few times before I finally faced the truth. The door had been locked from outside. Crap! A soft chuckle resonated in the silence of the lounge and I knew at the sound that he had planned all that. And surely more.