Tease (Club Deep #1)(5)

By: Penny Wylder

He winks, and my breath goes still in my chest. My body warms with that same arousal that I felt upstairs. Oh yeah. They definitely need that rule about no sex on the clock. With men like Cole wandering around, no one would ever get anything done.

“Everything going all right so far? Even though it’s overwhelming?”

“Yes, Sir.”

His face grows serious, and I see a flash of something hot and dark in his eyes. “We’re relatively informal around here. All employees are free to call me Cole. But,” he says with a meaningful glance at me, “I very much enjoy being called ‘Sir.’”

I swallow, my mouth going dry under the intensity of his gaze. “I’ll remember that. Sir.”

Cole pulls away from me, and suddenly I can breathe again. “I’m sure I’ll see you soon,” he says with his mysterious smile.


It’s only after he’s gone from sight that I realize how stupid I must have sounded just then. ‘Yeah.’ Maybe something witty or flirtatious? No, you go with ‘yeah.’ I shake my head. This is why I’m single. Get it together, Andrea. I grab a bottle of water from behind the bar. There’s a fridge labeled ‘staff’ so I’m assuming it’s okay. I’m sure I’ll find out soon enough if it’s not.

I’m taking the last sip from the bottle when Rosie appears in front of me. “Did you finish the rooms?”

“Yes. Fully stocked. You were right, the orgy room needed the most.”

She smirks. “Yeah. You can see why.”

I laugh. “It’s a…quite the show.”

Rosie takes my empty bottle off the bar and tosses it in the recycle bin. “Right. Well, you have a new assignment. One of the owners wants you upstairs in the VIP lounge serving drinks to him and his guests.”


“Yeah, sometimes they prefer to have a dedicated waitress instead of just ringing down for drinks. I think the guests tonight are important, so it’s crucial that you make them feel special. Whatever they need, make sure they have it. Let me see your keycard?”

I give it to her, and she takes it to the monitor behind the bar. There’s some number tapping and she swipes the card before she hands it back to me. “The elevator for wait staff is back there.” She points to a darkened corner near the dressing room. “You’re looking for the blue room up there. That’ll let you swipe in. Get going. Told you you’d learn a lot on the job.”

I head towards the corner she pointed to, then turn back. “Rosie, you said one of the owners? Why would they request me?”

“No idea,” she says, shrugging. “He just said he wanted you up there.”

There are butterflies in the pit of my stomach. Am I right? “Which one.”

“Cole Andrews. Stop asking questions, they’re waiting.”

I hurry towards the elevator, trying to pull my jaw up off the floor. Holy shit.


The elevator is almost too quiet, and I think that going back and forth between the blasting music and absolute silence is going to take some getting used to.

I was expecting the third floor to be a balcony like the second floor, but it’s not. The elevator doors open onto a gorgeous hallway. Dark, sparkling marble is arranged in geometric patterns on the floor, and colored lights line the edges. The hallway curves out of view—it must circle the whole club. The lights that stream up from the floor are vibrant, painting color along the walls and ceiling. It doesn’t take me long to notice that those colors are corresponding to rooms. The first stretch of the hallway is green, and the door in that section is green. The next section is orange.

I pass through a purple and a yellow section before I finally reach a blue one. Pausing outside the door, I take a deep breath. Cole requested me. I have no idea why. Whether it’s because he thinks I’ll be good eye candy or because he felt the same thing I felt between us, I don’t know. What I do know is that it’s still my first day, and I need to do a good job no matter how he makes me feel. I pass my keycard over the little panel, and the door slides aside silently.

The room is entirely glass—floor, walls, and ceiling. Below, you can see the entirety of the club spread out downstairs, and I have vertigo just looking. The music from downstairs is being pumped in through speakers, though it’s low enough to easily hear over. There are comfortable couches and chairs, and they’re filled. I count seven men sitting in the room, one of whom is Cole. Everyone turns to me as I come in, and I swallow my nerves as I step inside.

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