I do a quick mental tally.
Two G&Ts, one martini—extra dirty with three olives, an old-fashioned, a Moscow mule, one Bass Ale in a chilled glass, six Perriers, and two black coffees.
My gaze lifts to her heart-shaped face and those deep brown eyes that seem like they’re trying to peer inside me. Normally, when I meet someone who knows only my reputation, whether man or woman, they avoid direct eye contact. But not Drew Carson.
Whatever she’s looking for, her intensity ignites a flare of fascination within me. Women rarely interest me enough for a second glance, but I have to fight to tear my attention away from Drew’s blush-colored lips and focus on the drinks.
There’s just something about her, and it’s got nothing to do with the way her blond locks curl perfectly over the shoulders of her feminine black suit jacket, or how much I wish I could see what’s beneath those layers of makeup she wears like war paint.
When was the last time I cared about seeing a woman without makeup?Maybe never.
“I thought you weren’t a bartender.”
Her confident smile never falters. “I didn’t say that. I just said I didn’t think I was here to interview for that particular job.”
And she’s intelligent too.I step forward and pluck the copper mug off the tray and lift it to my lips.
“What are you—”
Before she can get her question out, I take a sip, letting the ginger flavor roll over my tongue. Sweet, tart, and perfect. Probably not much different from the woman who made it.
Whoa, Cannon. Stop that train of thought. You’ve known her for less than ten minutes.
Drew stays silent as I lift one glass off the tray after another, sampling everything but the coffee. I return the martini to its place with a nod.
“Come with me,” I tell her, snagging both untouched mugs. “Let’s talk in my office.”
“What about the drinks?” she asks.
“They’ve already been served. I just wanted to see how you’d perform under pressure. It’s time to talk about the job.”
3
Drew
Ifollow Cannon Freeman through the Upper Ten, named for the Upper Ten Thousand, the term used to describe the ten thousand wealthiest people in New York society back in the days of John Jacob Astor and the robber barons. For this club, it’s completely appropriate, although I doubt they’d even let the richest ten thousand people in the city through the door. From all my research, the exclusivity of the Upper Ten is about more than just money now.
As the luxurious carpet cushions my footsteps, two employees seem to come out of the rich wood paneling lining the walls. No, not seem. They do. Panels open like secret doors, and a man heads toward the walk-in humidor while a woman with short, dark hair winks at me as she takes her place behind the previously vacant bar.
Wait. Were the other employees in on this? Did they know their boss was going to put the new girl through his trial by fire?
I don’t get the chance to wonder more because Cannon’s long-legged stride stops in front of a panel, and he presses his palm flush against the wood. It opens silently.
“That’s a neat trick.” My comment comes out as a murmur.
Silently, I wonder what other tricks they’re hiding within these walls. It reinforces my belief that I’m making the right choice. The Upper Ten is where I’ll find the evidence to take down the Casso crime family and make them pay for what they did.
“Welcome to the inner sanctum,” Cannon says with a wink.
No, no. He’s not allowed to look sexy when I’m thinking about putting him in prison.It’s clear Cannon Freeman doesn’t follow the rules, and his unpredictability makes him more dangerous than I expected.
I follow him down a hallway lined with a deep green-and-gold-striped wall covering. Brass sconces decorate the walls, lending a warm glow.
After passing several closed rooms, Cannon opens a door at the end of the hallway and motions for me to precede him inside. “Once you’re in, you may never leave,” he says with a hint of a lazy smirk on his lips.
The comment almost throws me off-balance, but I sense that’s what he’s trying to do, and I keep my chipper expression in place.
“It must be a great place to work.” My tone matches my expression, and his heavy-lidded stare intensifies.