if I just happen to run into Aria as I’m checking things out—well, then, I’ll be able to kill two birds with one stone.
Except when I get down to the high roller area—having taken the long way through reception, the kitchens, the late night restaurants and nearly every other area of the casino since I didn’t want to look too eager, even to myself—she looks dead on her feet. Like every step she takes is an agony.
She’s pale, her skin almost waxy in the harsh lights of the casino and she’s swaying on her feet. There are dark bruises under her eyes, and the hands she delivers drinks with are far from steady. Even worse, she doesn’t seem to have the energy to fend off the jerks the way I’ve seen her do twice now. Instead of delivering a quip or angling her body a certain way to shut them down—or even staring them down as I saw her do on the video last night—she’s just taking the abuse.
Taking the slide of a hand along her hip or the pat on her ass or—as I’m standing here watching—the squeeze of her breast. The bastard.
Fury is an ugly drumbeat in my veins when I step forward to rescue her, but I’m barely halfway there when Aria turns and stumbles away, much to the dismay of the asshole who was groping her. I look around, try to see if security or management is paying any attention to what’s happening here, try to figure out if my speech yesterday afternoon had any impact at all. But before I can call him on turning yet another blind eye, the newest security guy approaches the whale with grabby hands, says something to him.
Huh. Maybe my message got through, after all.
But the future job security of my other employees isn’t high on the list of things that are important to me right now, no matter that I came back to this damn place for just that reason. To ensure it doesn’t go under and leave all these people without jobs or pensions or savings to show for their years of service. No, right now all I care about is getting to Aria and getting her the hell out of here as fast as possible.
A glance at my watch tells me that, like an idiot, I’ve managed to do a pretty good job of wasting time getting down here. She’s set to get off in a little over an hour. But that’s not going to work, not in the state she’s in. She needs to leave now, before she ends up tripping in those ridiculous heels and getting hurt. Or before I end up ripping the face off some jerk who decides that now—when she’s obviously out of it—is the time to score with her.
I watch as another customer touches her, sliding his hand up and down the back of her leg. Aria jerks a little bit at the uninvited caress, but she doesn’t pull away. Doesn’t tell him off.
That’s it. I’m done watching this.
I cross the floor to her in three long strides, and then my hand is sliding across her lower back, wrapping around her hip as I pull her body into the shelter of mine. I shoot a dirty look at the bastard who was just groping her and he inclines his head in an I’ve-got-the-message kind of way. Good. I’d hate to have to break his arm—or his teeth—on what I’m pretty sure is his first night in my casino.
The fact that Aria doesn’t immediately shrug me off tells me everything I need to know about what kind of state she’s in.
I propel her over to the bar, and then into a little alcove behind it. It’s not much privacy, but it’s the best I’m going to get right now.
She still isn’t fighting me, still isn’t telling me that she has to get back to work. I’m the first to admit that I don’t know Aria very well yet, despite our very intimate exchange in my office a couple of hours ago, but I’m smart enough to know that isn’t her normal behavior. Which only makes me more concerned.
“Hey,” I say, pressing a hand under her chin and lifting her face toward mine. “You all right?”
Her eyes are dull, lifeless, with none of the spark I’ve come to associate with her in the three days I’ve
Except when I get down to the high roller area—having taken the long way through reception, the kitchens, the late night restaurants and nearly every other area of the casino since I didn’t want to look too eager, even to myself—she looks dead on her feet. Like every step she takes is an agony.
She’s pale, her skin almost waxy in the harsh lights of the casino and she’s swaying on her feet. There are dark bruises under her eyes, and the hands she delivers drinks with are far from steady. Even worse, she doesn’t seem to have the energy to fend off the jerks the way I’ve seen her do twice now. Instead of delivering a quip or angling her body a certain way to shut them down—or even staring them down as I saw her do on the video last night—she’s just taking the abuse.
Taking the slide of a hand along her hip or the pat on her ass or—as I’m standing here watching—the squeeze of her breast. The bastard.
Fury is an ugly drumbeat in my veins when I step forward to rescue her, but I’m barely halfway there when Aria turns and stumbles away, much to the dismay of the asshole who was groping her. I look around, try to see if security or management is paying any attention to what’s happening here, try to figure out if my speech yesterday afternoon had any impact at all. But before I can call him on turning yet another blind eye, the newest security guy approaches the whale with grabby hands, says something to him.
Huh. Maybe my message got through, after all.
But the future job security of my other employees isn’t high on the list of things that are important to me right now, no matter that I came back to this damn place for just that reason. To ensure it doesn’t go under and leave all these people without jobs or pensions or savings to show for their years of service. No, right now all I care about is getting to Aria and getting her the hell out of here as fast as possible.
A glance at my watch tells me that, like an idiot, I’ve managed to do a pretty good job of wasting time getting down here. She’s set to get off in a little over an hour. But that’s not going to work, not in the state she’s in. She needs to leave now, before she ends up tripping in those ridiculous heels and getting hurt. Or before I end up ripping the face off some jerk who decides that now—when she’s obviously out of it—is the time to score with her.
I watch as another customer touches her, sliding his hand up and down the back of her leg. Aria jerks a little bit at the uninvited caress, but she doesn’t pull away. Doesn’t tell him off.
That’s it. I’m done watching this.
I cross the floor to her in three long strides, and then my hand is sliding across her lower back, wrapping around her hip as I pull her body into the shelter of mine. I shoot a dirty look at the bastard who was just groping her and he inclines his head in an I’ve-got-the-message kind of way. Good. I’d hate to have to break his arm—or his teeth—on what I’m pretty sure is his first night in my casino.
The fact that Aria doesn’t immediately shrug me off tells me everything I need to know about what kind of state she’s in.
I propel her over to the bar, and then into a little alcove behind it. It’s not much privacy, but it’s the best I’m going to get right now.
She still isn’t fighting me, still isn’t telling me that she has to get back to work. I’m the first to admit that I don’t know Aria very well yet, despite our very intimate exchange in my office a couple of hours ago, but I’m smart enough to know that isn’t her normal behavior. Which only makes me more concerned.
“Hey,” I say, pressing a hand under her chin and lifting her face toward mine. “You all right?”
Her eyes are dull, lifeless, with none of the spark I’ve come to associate with her in the three days I’ve
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