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was at the turn tables.

I smirked to myself as I opened the restroom door.

One step into the corridor, and I froze. Ryan’s office door faced the women’s restroom, something which set all my red flags to flying, but Gabe stood in front of the closed door. When he realized who I was, he glowered at me.

“The fuck are you doin’ here?” he hissed.

I glared at him but turned and walked down the hall.

Except, Gabe stopped me after two steps when he grabbed my bicep and guided me toward the wall. He positioned me with my back against the wall, and he stepped into my space.

“I asked you a question, Cassandra,” he gritted out. Then his eyes traversed my body. “And dressed like you just came from the office. Really?”

I opened my mouth to respond, but Ryan’s slick voice got there first.

“Miss Daughtry. I thought you were done for the day, and surely you recall the no fraternization policy?”

I shot daggers at Gabe with my eyes, but softened my look when I turned to Ryan.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Pruitt. Mr. Sullivan is a neighbor. We’re not fraternizing.”

If I hadn’t been paying attention, I would’ve missed Gabe’s disagreeing growl.

After three quick strides, Ryan stood a foot away from us. “The body language between you both says something entirely different, Miss Daughtry. Neighbors don’t stand inside your personal bubble, as it were.”

Gabe immediately stepped back, and I straightened my spine. “You’re right, but it can be hard to hear people when the music is blaring.”

Luckily, the song shifted to a hard-driving techno tune and it became hard for me to hear Ryan’s response.

He stepped forward and raised his voice when he spoke. “Just remember. No fraternizing. Even with the freelance DJs.”

Ryan walked beyond us, and I felt Gabe’s eyes on me. Slowly, I turned to him. His eyes were downright icy.

“Fraternizing?” he demanded.

I shrugged a shoulder. “I work here. During the day. I had technical issues, and was just on my way home.”

Again, Gabe eyed my skirt and blouse. He stepped further into my personal space. “You better make sure you leave before doors open in the future, Cassandra. Got me?”

My head reared back but bumped into the concrete wall behind me. “Whatever, Sullivan. I have a job to do, and I’m gonna do that job. And if something forces me to stay late, so be it.”

I slipped past him to the office. After I grabbed my purse, I opened the office door slowly, grateful to see he was no longer in the corridor.

I used a side exit to get to my car, and drove home.

Gabe

I CLIMBED THE STEPS to the DJ booth, seething. Between Cassandra and Ryan, I didn’t know who made me angrier.

His no-fraternization policy made sense, but he hammered it home so much, it raised a red flag. He noticed how close I stood to Cassandra, which increased my anger with him. His tone had sounded reproachful, but I suspected it hid jealousy, as slick and shady as he tended to be.

Then there was Cassandra. Why wouldn’t she tell me she had a new job? And why in the hell was she working here? She was a year away from her MBA, and sharp as hell. Working for Pruitt made no sense, and she could damn well do better.

Plus, she knew I worked the club circuit. It hurt she didn’t come to me for advice, or to see if I knew about this place.

Had she been paying lip-service to us being back to normal after my fuck-up?

My gut burned and my teeth clenched with the thought. I didn’t know what I would do about Cassie. Ryan wouldn’t keep me from her, that was for sure.

The club had opened a year ago, and rumor had it, it wasn’t doing so good. Knowing that, I had negotiated a better contract for this gig.

I didn’t need to lose the job because Ryan thought I was fraternizing.

To put those thoughts out of my head, I concentrated on working the crowd up. Friday nights lent themselves to it.

My break came around, and I was still in a funk. Then it hit me. I needed to get laid.

My frustration mounted because I wouldn’t get laid. I meant what I said to Cassie. Getting some just for the sake of sexual gratification had lost its appeal.

I noticed a group of middle-aged people mingling not far from my booth. Sometimes, middle-aged people would hit the club I was working. Most of the time, I was oblivious to them. Then they’d get loose and make an approach, asking for hip-hop or things I didn’t have or knew would kill the vibe with the repeat customers, who were fifteen years younger.

A man holding a squat glass of brown liquor walked up. His graying hair held enough product for me and Brock, and his cologne preceded him.

“Yo! DJ! Play some L.L. Cool J! It’s my wife’s forty-fifth birthday and she wants to hear ‘I Need Love.’ You got that?”

I smiled remorsefully before I pressed my lips together skeptically. “Doubt it, man. I’ll check though. If I don’t, I’ll play somethin’ old school for you instead.”

He smiled and lifted his glass at me. Scrolling through my tunes, I had the song he asked for. I didn’t want to play the rap ballad, but he had the look of someone who would be back. Better to get it over it with.

Not thirty seconds later, I kicked myself for not listening to my instincts. Why did I let this guy talk me into this?

Listening to a song about how cold his soul was and wondering what he’s done to a woman did not help my conscience.

Yep. I was damn sure cold. Cassie deserved better than that. I shoved her out of my mind and focused on work.

TEN MINUTES AFTER THE club closed, I had my system packed up, when Ryan approached me. He put on a good front. Top-notch clothes and cuff links might have kept some from seeing his sallow

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