1
Magnus
“Let me go, dickhead!”Tonight’s first kick-out screams, tossing futile fists back at me as I haul him out of the front door by his collar and toss him head over heels onto the sidewalk. “You’ll pay for that!”
He’s drunk off his ass and decided to grope one of the girls tending bar. That’s a can’t happen, so I dealt with him quickly. It’s the first disturbance of the night, but it won’t be the last.
That’s my job here at the club: security. My name’s Magnus, aka Big Magnus on account of my size. I’m six-foot-six and enough muscle that I’ve been asked more times than I can count if I do fitness competition.
The truth is I’m just a naturally big guy. The only time I’ve even seen the inside of a gym was when I was helping my employer, Vincent Romano, setup his home fitness center at his new house that is fit for a celebrity and makes my apartment look like a closet he keeps his suits in. He owns this club as well as a few others, and I go back and forth where I’m needed. I don’t know precisely how Vincent makes his money, but let’s just say I’m smart enough not to ask.
I’m about to head back inside to check on the girl when I see Vincent’s car pull up around the block, a brand new, all-black Rolls Royce. I nod to Jimmy, the other guy working the door with me tonight, and we both take our positions as the luxurious ride pulls up in front of us.
The driver gets out and goes around to open the door for Vincent, who steps out wearing a fitted charcoal-black with a blood-red tie. We’re familiar enough that he nods to me. I nod back, but my attention isn’t really on him; my attention is on who I know is going to be stepping out of the car next.
I see her shoe first—black with a red bottom that matches his tie. And then her calf, so slim and delicate, draped with the fabric of a flowing red dress with a slit up the side that shows off the most utterly incredible leg as she stands and goes to her husband’s side.
Josie Romano, the most beautiful, sexy, incredible woman in the world. There isn’t a single flaw on her.
I’ve seen her so many times at the club, and yet every time I see her, the effect she has on me is the same. Every muscle tightens in my body, my pulse quickens, and I forget to breathe as I watch her glide through the world like a goddess. Blood rushes to my cock as everything starts to move in slow motion, every single one of her movements accentuated as though I’m seeing it through a zoom lens. I do everything possible not to make it obvious that I’m staring at the boss’ girl. The consequences for that would be disastrous.
I’d do anything to speak with her. I’d go up to her with a terrible pickup line just to start a conversation. Hell, I’d trip all over myself and fall in front of her just to hear her ask me if I was all right.
But Josie Romano doesn’t even know I exist. Her boss will give me a nod when he sees me, when he passes, but Josie won’t even look at me. Every single time I’ve seen her, she does exactly what she’s doing right now—she walks right by with her head held high, not even glancing at me.
And why would she?
Why would a queen like her, with a trail of flowing gold hair behind her and a body that men would paint and carve statues of,everacknowledge a big bruising beast like me? I’m just a nobody. A blue collar brute who makes a living with his fists. Her man has given her the keys to the kingdom. What the hell do I have to offer her?
I hold the door for her, and she passes, so close that I can smell her perfume. It’s the same one she always wears, and I’ve become so accustomed to it by now that it awakens something inside me every time it hits my nostrils. I wait until both she and Vincent have passed before closing my eyes and taking a deep breath.
Fuck, the things I would do to her.
She’s so unbelievable. So delicate, so sexy, and fuck if she isn’t eighteen or nineteen years old. That would put her about half my age. I’m a dirty son of a bitch for even thinking about it. But it’s her fault for looking as good as she does and putting these thoughts in my mind.
“Don’t even think about it, man.” Jimmy’s voice tears me out of my fantasy, and I open my eyes to his scolding expression.
“Think about what?” I retort.
Jimmy chuckles. “You know I heard about a guy who put a move on the boss’slastgirlfriend? They found him dead, naked in the park with his willie cut off and stuffed in his mouth.”
“I’m not putting a move on anybody,” I reply, stuffing my hands in my pockets. I like my willie and my life, and besides, I know I’d have a better shot at winning the lottery than I would at getting with Josie Romano.
My life is standing outside this club for high-rollers, watching them pull up in their cars that cost more than the building I live in, dressed in clothes that cost more than my rent, and providing security for their lives I could only ever dream of living. I don’t even know why I let myself fantasize about what it would be like to run my hands over Josie’s perfect body…to untie the tie on the back of that red dress and peel it off of her until she stood in front of me naked…to drag my tongue up the inside of her thighs and apply pressure to her most sensitive places until her back was arched and she was crying out my name in ecstasy.
Because after all, that’s never going to happen.
It’s been almost two hours of standing out in the cold before I hear a ruckus inside. Jimmy’s about to head in to take care of it, but I hold out a hand to him. “I’ve got it,” I tell him. He nods, a grin forming on his lips.
“Watch out for yourself in there,” he tells me. We both know what he means. I can handle whatever needs handling inside, but we both know why I volunteered to do so.
Josie.
Just the chance to see her is motivation enough. Hell, I’d trudge through the worst blizzard in ten years just for a glimpse of her beauty.
The problem inside turns out to be two drunk dickheads at the bar about to start throwing blows at each other. I step between them, but I can see by the glazed-over eyes that the man staring at me doesn’t get who I am.
“What, you want some too?” He tries to push past me, but I block him with both hands. He stinks like sweat and booze.