“I’ll take ye to see Seamus, lass.”
I wave at the door through to the back offices. After one final glare at Daryl, she walks in the direction I am gesturing. I turn, fixing my eyes on Daryl. As our eyes meet, his face pales.
I watch him for a beat longer until he looks like he’s about to piss himself. Turning, I stalk over to the blue-eyed reason for my existence, holding the door and gesturing for her to walk through.
We walk silently down the polished wooden corridor, past the doors to the kitchenette, storerooms, and strippers' dressing room, until I halt in front of the unassuming door readingManager.
The lass’s eyes flicker over it, and she looks a little nervous. I pause for a moment, giving her a chance to throw back her shoulders, take a deep breath, and raise her chin. I like that.
Raising a hand, I hold her gaze, her blue eyes staring into mine, deep and fathomless, as I hammer on the door.
“Come in. It better be fucking important.”
Oh. It fucking is. I open the door, motioning for the lass to precede me into the room. Seamus glances up from whatever spreadsheet he’s looking at on his desk, his eyes sparkling with interest when they land on my blue-eyed lass.
I’m loyal to Seamus and no one else, but that doesn’t mean I won’t fight him on this. He has a reputation as a ladies’ man, and he’s going nowhere near my little lass. He’d tear her apart and discard her like a used condom.
“What can I help you with?” he asks, his eyes roaming over her body. Sure, and it’s a fine body, but he needs to keep his eyes to himself. I need to make my stance clear without spooking her. If I scare her away, she’ll never apply for a job here.
“The lass is here for a job interview,” I growl. “Not to be leered at by the likes of ye.”
Seamus’s eyes dance over me at my words, and he nods to me. The lass doesn’t even notice, but I do. Seamus’s nod tells me he understands the lass is mine and off-limits. He’ll keep his eyes on her face and only her face in the fucking future. Sometimes being the Reaper has its benefits.
“You’re here for a job?” Seamus asks, turning his eyes back to her face. The lass nods, darting a glance at me, turning back to him.
“Yes.” She lifts her jaw and looks him in the eye. Brave lass. “I know how to work a pole.”
Fuck that. Not fucking happening. I have no intention of letting any other man see what’s underneath her clothes.Seamus’s eyes flicker to me for the briefest moment, correctly reading my disapproval of the lass’s plan.
Continuing their progress, Seamus’s gaze lands on the well-stocked bar he keeps in here.
“Before you dance for us, perhaps you can fetch us some whiskey,” he sighs, waving his hand at the numerous bottles of liquor lined up on the cabinet over by the wall. The lass won’t be dancing for anyone, but she can bring him a drink before she’s told so.
The lass’s eyes follow his, and she pauses for a moment without moving.
“Do you want the blended or the single malt?”
Seamus leans forward in his seat with interest. “Surprise me.”
The lass steps toward the bar, hesitating and pursing her lips.
“Neat or on the rocks?”
“Neat.”
Stepping up to the bar, she prepares him a glass of neat single malt, setting it on the large hardwood desk in front of Seamus and turning those piercing eyes on me.
“And you?”
While studying the lass, I’ve noticed she has pretty pink, plump lips in addition to her gloriously blue eyes. Perfect. She’s perfect. And I need her to be mine.
“Same.” I shrug, watching as she quickly prepares a glass, handing it to me.
My fingers brush hers when she passes me the glass, and after she steps away, I can still feel the heat of her fingers as she moves into the empty space between Seamus’s desk and the door, pulling out her phone.
“I brought some music. Shall I play it on my phone? There’s no pole here, but I can maybe do a lap dance?”
I choke on my whiskey. That’s not fucking happening.