Driscoll nodded in the direction of the hazard table and a man walked briskly to Amelia’s table. She remembered him from the introductions. His name was Mr. David Sanders, one of the security guards.
“Let’s go gentlemen.” Mr. Sanders was a bit more forceful, and the two men stood, one of them stumbling as they were escorted from her table.
Amelia took a deep breath as a man and woman slid into their seats.
“Are you all right?” Driscoll moved behind her table and leaned close to her ear.
“Yes. I am fine.”
He touched her arm. “I can have another staff member take over the table and give you a break whenever you need one.”
She really loved his concern but didn’t want to appear unable to work an entire shift. “Maybe later.”
Driscoll studied her for a minute, then nodded and stepped away.
By the time another hour passed, Amelia’s head was pounding, and her feet hurt like the devil. She’d avoided several requests to remove her mask and more than one suggestion that she consider another line of work. One on her back.
Driscoll never strayed far from her table which concerned her since she knew he generally spent most of the time the club was open upstairs working on his ledgers.
Eventually, about one thirty in the morning, Driscoll approached her with another man she’d been introduced to as Mr. Jason Fletcher. “Miss Pence, Mr. Fletcher will replace you for the rest of the night.”
She shook her head, even though her headache had gotten worse. “No. I’m fine.”
Driscoll ignored her and took her elbow to walk her away while Mr. Fletcher stepped in and began dealing, with grumbling from the men at the table at the loss of the female dealer.
“You’re exhausted,” he said as he marched her across the room and up the stairs.
“You don’t understand, I have to do this. I need a job.” She tried to pull her elbow away, but his grip was much stronger than she would have expected.
“No one is firing you, so calm down.” He handed her another handkerchief when the tears began to fall again, gathering under her mask.
Amelia was so disappointed in herself, and thought she was much stronger than this. True, she had never held a job in her life, but she was certainly not a weak person.
They entered the dining room and Driscoll pulled out a chair for her. He sat alongside her and took her hand in his. “I assume you have never worked before, am I correct?”
Amelia sniffed and nodded.
“It will take some getting used to. Standing on your feet, constantly dealing cards, and thinking about what you are doing. It’s tiring, but especially for someone who is not used to working.”
Driscoll reached out and removed her mask, laying it on the table. Amelia took a deep breath, not realizing how constricting the mask had been.
The look in his eyes as he studied her would probably have frightened her if she weren’t so blasted tired.
His fingers ran down her cheek with a very light touch. “I’m also not happy with the comments and suggestions tossed your way tonight.” He stood and walked to the sideboard, leaning against it and crossing his arms. “This is not the place or the job for a lady.”
Her eyes grew wide. “Please don’t fire me. I know I can do this. I just need to get used to it all.”
He rubbed his forehead with his index finger and thumb. “I am not firing you, Amelia. That is the last thing on my mind.” He reached out and took her hand. “Come, I will escort you to your bedroom and we will talk tomorrow.”
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She took his hand and stood but didn’t move. “I know you wasted your time tonight watching me, and your work has piled up. At least let me help you with that. It would make me feel better.”
Driscoll cupped her face in his large hands, grazing softly over her cheeks with his thumbs. “Watching you is never a waste of time.” Slowly he bent his head and kissed her. Lightly at first, then when she moved closer and leaned into him, her breasts crushed against his hard chest, he wrapped her in his warm, strong arms, and took the kiss deeper.
If only she could be sure he wouldn’t turn her over to her stepbrother, she would tell him everything. Maybe this attraction between them would turn into something more. But she couldn’t take the chance just yet. Men were still the ones in charge. They made all the decisions, and since Driscoll was a man of honor, he might very well think returning her to Randolph was the noble thing to do.
In other words, she was yet unable to trust him.