I looked up at the girl. She had dipped her chin to avoid looking at me. “There’s a lot of money in here.” She nodded. I asked, “Why didn’t you take it all?”
When she looked up at me, she blinked away tears and whispered a trembling, “I just wanted something to eat.”
A wave of emotion ran through me. First, anger, then sadness, then something I couldn’t quite explain. Protectiveness, perhaps. “You’re hungry.” A statement, not a question.
She nodded once more and it was done.
The girl had unexpectedly become my responsibility.
***
Mina
Gentle fingers under my chin lifted my face until I couldn’t avoid him anymore.
He spoke in perfect calm. “You have a choice.” I stared, confused. I hadn’t realized I’d be given a selection. “I can call the cops and have you arrested.” I almost bunched my nose, but stopped myself in the nick of time. I didn’t like that choice. “Or you can work for the club, make good money, set yourself up.” He added, “Never go without a meal again.”
Was this guy nuts? My mind gaped. Like I even had to think about which option I preferred.
Then he added a third option, taking the hundred-dollar note I’d nabbed and he held it up high. “Or I can give you this. You can leave and disappear into the night.” His eyes trained on me, he theorized, “A hundred dollars will get you more than one hot meal.”
My head swam. I was sure this was a trick.
A hundred dollars was enough to get me by for a little while but a job, a place to stay and food. How could I pass that up?
Oh, God, food was important to me.
I swallowed hard. “Option-B sounds good.”
He seemed pleased. “I thought so.” He extended a hand. “Come along.”
Pulling my sleeves down over my hands, I leaned away from him. “Wait. What kind of work? I—” My train of thought went elsewhere and I blushed. “Dancing? Like those girls out there?”
A single brow rose. “You think I want you to strip?”
My blush turned into a full-blown flush and I felt my neck heat.
Of course he doesn’t want you to strip. You’re not exactly Jennifer Lopez.
“I don’t want you to strip. I want you to stay clothed.” He looked disgusted that I would even make the suggestion. “Fully clothed,” he added testily, and mortification turned my stomach. “You’ll tend the bar with the others.”
“I don’t know how.”
His stare was blunt. “You’ll learn.”
That didn’t sound bad. In fact, it sounded great. He held out his hand once more and, keeping my hand covered with my sleeve, I placed it into his. When his warm hand cocooned mine, I realized how large it was. It didn’t take long for me to take in the rest of him. He was tall, around 6’1” or 6’2”, had broad shoulders, narrow hips, long legs, and a stern face. He was dressed in a perfectly tailored black suit. It had to be. It didn’t look like this guy could buy off the rack. I glanced up at his face, and his light brown eyes stared right back at me.
A shiver went through me. His face came across harsh. His cheekbones were high, his chin was strong, his nose slightly crooked, and he had generous lips. His skin was lightly tanned and flawless; he didn’t have any laugh lines. It was almost as if he didn’t smile at all.
It suddenly hit me. Why would a man who wore suits and spoke in such a classy manner help a homeless girl who he caught stealing?
I pulled my hand out of his. “If this is a trick…” My hair covered half of my face, but I could see the sudden tilt of his head and narrow of his brow. I told him honestly, “If you want to call the police, call them. I promise I’ll stay and tell them I stole the wallet.” I lowered my face and added thoughtfully, “They might even feed me.” I peeked back up at him. “But getting a person’s hopes up and joking about things like that to someone who has nothing…it’s cruel.”
He looked at me for a long moment before taking my hand again—without permission, I might add—and stating, “I don’t lie.”
He said this confidently, in a way that left me inclined to believe it. I was led out of the bathroom and down the hall before I asked quietly, “Why are you helping me?”
Without looking at me, he led me on and responded, “You look like you