The Billionaire's Kitten(7)

By: Cassandra Dee


But when we exited the dark floor, I began squirming.

“Hey!” I proclaimed. “I have a job! I can’t just take off, I’m gonna be fired!”

The man didn’t even acknowledge me.

“Shh, pretty girl,” he rumbled. “Shhhh, kitty kitty.”

What was that supposed to mean? We went down a dark hallway, turning a corner, all of it deserted and I began to panic.

“Hey, where are you taking me?” I asked, trying to push away from that hard chest. “What’s going on?”

But the big man still ignored me, gripping my curves tight, striding even faster.

“Stop, stop!” I shrieked. “This is crazy!”

Finally we entered an office. Or office is too normal of a word, because the space was huge, with double height ceilings and windows all around.

“What in the world?” I squealed. “Where are we?”

The man dropped me unceremoniously on my feet, and I stumbled for a moment in the stilettos.

“Where are we? I have to get back!” I yelped again, steadying myself against a plush leather couch.

But the man strode to one window, flicking a switch, and suddenly it was obvious where we were. Because the pane went dark for a moment before going light, and suddenly we were looking over Club Milano, people gyrating on the floor, colored lights flashing crazily.

“Where is this?” I whispered, eyes drawn to the crowd. “Where is this place?”

By now, the big man had dropped to sit on a deep blue sofa, folding those long legs.

“My office,” he rumbled deep in his chest, blue eyes amused. “Where else?”

I swallowed thickly.

“Your office? But why? I have to get back, my boss is gonna be pissed.”

Even as the words came out, I caught a glimpse of Morty through the glass. Yep, it was him in that purple velvet suit, but instead of his usual scowl, he looked sweaty, nervous and jittery. I blinked. Maybe it was my imagination. Had to be. Morty’s always been so mean, there was no way he was nervous.

But the man in the couch chuckled again deeply.

“Mortimer? Naw, loser’s not pissed, trust me.”

I whirled to face him.

“How do you know? I just got this job,” I choked. “I really need it, and I’m gonna be fired now.”

The dark man looked at me wryly.

“I know because Morty works for me,” he tossed out casually. “Grayson Channing at your service.”

And suddenly I realized why those blue eyes looked so familiar, why there was an aura of command around him. Because this was the owner of the Milano, Mr. Channing himself. I’d seen that mug in dozens of magazines, always with a pretty girl hanging off his arm, if not two or three. I was here with the most powerful man on the Strip, and my body went weak, mind hazy.

“Um, Mr. Channing,” I mumbled. “Why am I here? I’m a good employee, I swear,” I began. “I swear, tonight’s my first night but I’m usually much better. I don’t know why I spilled those drinks, I’m sorry I ruined your carpet …” the words came babbling out.

But the big man wasn’t interested.

“Naw, it’s not that,” he rumbled. “You’re here for a reason.”

I gulped.

“Do you need a drink?” I said quickly. “I’m happy to serve you. Here, let me just find the bar,” I spun around, looking for a liquor cabinet.

But the big man rumbled deep in his throat.

“Naw, I brought you here for another reason. The Milano’s filled with pretty girls, but you’re the prettiest,” he tossed off casually. “And I want to see a private show.”

My breath stopped in my chest.

“What do you mean, a private show?”

He shrugged.

“I wanna see you work it a little, you know, dance.”

Okay that was too much. He might be the owner of this casino, he might be an alpha billionaire, but you can’t just force girls to do what you want.

“I’m a waitress,” I stammered, cheeks flushing hotly. “I’m a waitress at your hotel, not a stripper.”

Mr. Channing merely looked at me amused.

“What was your name again?” he drawled.

I swallowed thickly.

“Kitty- Katherine,” I muttered. God, even though I’d just been propositioned rudely, for some reason, instead of being offended, I was titillated. Deep inside somewhere, I wanted to dance for him, I wanted to be someone else for a change, letting my hair down and going wild. I wanted the alpha male to look at me and devour my curves.

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