and brave. But that was easy when you had nothing to care about and nothing to lose. Now . . . Ildaria was scared.
Six
Ildaria pushed through the dark oak door of the front room on the second floor of the Night Club and paused with surprise to take it in. There were four rooms in the club, the main bar and dance club on the main floor, and two alternate rooms on this floor. She knew the back room was a game room with pool tables and arcade games, but this was the first time she’d seen the front room. It was impressive in an old English manor kind of way. She could see it appealing to some of the older immortals. In fact, each room seemed to have been created to appeal to a different age group of immortal. The dance club was for the younger immortals. The bar catered to the mid to old immortals who came for company. She supposed the game room would appeal to different age groups, but this room seemed most suited to old, old immortals who were probably coupled.
The clink of glasses drew her attention to the man presently cleaning the room and a small smile curved her lips as she watched him work. The high green Mohawk didn’t really fit with the black dress pants and dress shirt he was wearing. Jeans or leather would have suited him more, Ildaria thought as she watched him carry a half-full tray of glasses to the next table, one of many small side tables that accompanied the groupings of sofas and chairs in the room. G.G. bent, set the tray on the table and began gathering the used glasses and adding them to his growing collection.
“I don’t know why you don’t have Sofia and the others help with cleanup,” she said to announce her presence. “It would be done in no time with the three or four of you working.”
G.G. stilled and then glanced over his shoulder at her for a moment, his gaze moving over her slowly before he turned back to continue gathering glasses. “They work long hours as it is. The shortest night in the summer is nine hours, but it can be as long as fifteen hours in the winter that they have to work. And they do it without complaint,” he pointed out. “Letting them go at closing is the least I can do.”
“You work longer,” she pointed out. “You start early to prep, and clean up after. Surely—”
“The Night Club is my business. I get the profits. As such, I should work longer hours. Most business owners do. No employee is paid well enough to have to work as long as I do.”
Ildaria raised her eyebrows at the words and reminded him, “I do your books. I know how well you pay your employees, and you pay us all ridiculously well. On top of that, you’re charging us a pittance in rent for the apartments and house. It barely covers the cost of electricity and water. Not to mention that your prices in the club are very reasonable. Your profits are a lot smaller than they could be.”
G.G. shrugged and moved to the next table to gather the glasses there. “How much money does a person need? You can’t take it with you. Besides, I pay well so that my employees are happy. Happy employees make good employees, and good employees stay.”
“You’re a good boss,” she said, meaning it. He cared about people more than money. Few businessmen were like that.
G.G. snorted with disbelief, and shook his head. “I used to be. Now I’m turning into an aging pervert who spends all his waking hours fantasizing about one of his employees, and his nights dreaming of her.” Straightening, he turned to wave his hand toward her with exasperation. “I mean look, I’ve put you in glasses, for heaven’s sake.”
Ildaria reached up to feel her face, surprised to note the eyeglasses resting on her nose. She hadn’t even realized they were there until he mentioned them. She’d never in her life even imagined wearing them. She was immortal. Immortals didn’t need glasses. The nanos saw to that. But she was wearing glasses . . . which meant this was a dream.
Ildaria let her gaze skate over the rest of her outfit now, wondering if anything else was unusual. But she was wearing a black skirt and white blouse, one set of several she’d purchased to work at the fancy restaurant