it. Doesn’t mean jack to me. So please, Bryce, just tell me what you want then go off on your merry way again to wherever you’ve been for the past six years. If you want money from me, you’re shit outta luck.”
“I had a P.I. turn up on my doorstep asking questions.”
I stop breathing and my blood runs cold. “What did they want?”
He leans back into the plush leather seat. “They wanted to know about you, me . . . us. When I didn’t have anything for them, they started offering incentives . . .”
I bet they did.
“Did they say who they were working for?” I ask, knowing the answer already but wanting confirmation.
“Nope. They just said that they were running a deep background check on behalf of their client and there was no expense spared. “
“Motherfucker,” I curse, pacing the width of the room. Then it occurs to me that Bryce shouldn’t have any idea where I work. We’ve got no mutual friends, no connections whatsoever. I tried to track him down five years ago to recover some of the money he owed me, and failed, so unless he’s a world-class detective himself, someone tipped him off.
“How did you find me?”
“They told me you worked here. I wanted to warn you because their visit didn’t sit right with me. We’ve been out of each other’s lives for more than six years. There is no way they should be connecting us.”
I pin him in place with a skeptical glare. “So out of the goodness of your heart, you thought you’d come to my place of work and warn me? You didn’t think to maybe find me anytime during the past six years and apologize, or I don’t know, maybe try and make up for what you did?”
He stands and takes a step towards me. I throw one hand up in warning, and he wisely thinks better of it. “Abs . . .”
“Thank you for the warning, but I already know who the P.I. works for, and I definitely know what these people are looking for. So thanks for the heads up, but now you can go.”
“I’m clean now.”
“Good for you. Congratulations,” I reply derisively. “But that doesn’t mean we’re going to be best friends, or even acquaintances. I worked my ass off to pull myself out of the hole you left me in. I’m stronger, smarter, and a hell of a lot happier.”
He winces, and his expression turns from concern to resignation, his eyes dropping to the ground. Maybe finally, he’s realized just how fucked up he was back then. Nevertheless, it’s got nothing to do with me now.
I have Cade. Cade is the epitome of ‘upgrade’ compared to Bryce, especially when it comes to the way Cade treats me.
“See the hostess at the front desk on your way out, get your money back, and just go. I’m sorry you got drawn into this but it doesn’t change anything.”
His eyes lift to mine, full of regret.
“Look after yourself, Bryce.” I give him one last look before turning my back and walking out, shutting the door, not just on the room but on that part of my past.
Walking back into the club, I take the stairs two at a time and make my way towards Roger’s office, knocking before entering.
He looks up from his computer and smiles brightly. “Hey, Abi. Having a good night?” he asks, his mood deteriorating when he sees the look on my face. I’ve known Roger for six years, since the day I walked through the doors asking for a job. He’s one of the reasons—along with Brandi—why I still work a night here for the odd shift.
“What happened?” He gets up from his chair, walks around his desk and leans his ass against it. I make a beeline for his drinks cabinet, pulling out a glass and pouring myself a scotch. This isn’t a common occurrence so the fact that I do it makes him do a double take.
He raises a brow and nods to my hand. “Are you going to pour me one too?”
“Yeah, probably when I pour my second,” I reply, downing the glass and pouring myself another one—oh and Roger’s, too.
“Shit.”
I turn and close the distance between us, handing over the drink and sitting down in a chair opposite him.
“So?”
“Bryce just paid for a private dance.”
“He what?”
I take a sip and lift my eyes up to meet his wide ones. “He didn’t get it. Don’t actually think he wanted it.”
“You’re not making sense,