“I want to make sure you’re all right.”
“I’m fine,” Mel said. “I could have handled it myself,” she added.
“I’m sure you could have. Show me your arm.”
Mel held her arm out. The woman took Mel’s wrist and pulled it closer to the light. The brush of her fingertips against the inside of Mel’s wrist made the hairs stand up on her skin.
“Does anything hurt?” The woman inspected Mel’s arm.
“No. He didn’t grab me very hard.”
She released Mel’s wrist, apparently satisfied. Her face clouded over. “That man. I’m going to make sure he and his friends never set foot in here again.” The woman clenched her fists. “I should have had him arrested for manhandling you like that.”
“It wasn’t as bad as it looked.” Mel wondered if the woman had seen the entire incident, or just Mel standing in a pile of alcohol and glass with a large, angry man’s hand around her arm. “He knocked my tray out of my hands by accident and got mad. That’s all. I’m used to dealing with difficult customers.” Mel was supposed to be serving said customers right now. Had anyone cleaned up all that broken glass? She st
ood up. “I should get back to work.”
“You’re not going anywhere until I’m sure you’re okay, Melanie.”
“I’m fine.”
“Indulge me then.” It was clear that there was no point arguing with her.
Mel sat back down. As she looked around the room, she spotted a few personal items. A silk robe hanging from a hook on the wall. A fluffy white towel on the back of the door to the bathroom. A bottle of whiskey and some glasses on the counter. It was the same whiskey that the woman always ordered downstairs. The space didn’t look lived in enough to be more than an occasional hideout, but it was clearly hers.
Mel’s eyes wandered over to the bed. As she admired the black satin sheets, something caught her eye.
Hanging from the bedpost was a black leather riding crop with a crimson handle.
Heat rose up Mel’s body. For a fleeting moment, an image of the woman wielding the whip played in her mind. She tore her eyes away and pushed the thought out of her head. But she was suddenly hyperaware that she was alone in the room of a domineering woman who she felt an undeniable attraction toward. One who owned a whip.
And that woman was looking straight at Mel.
Mel looked intently down at the hem of her skirt. Had the woman noticed her staring at what was on the bedpost? Mel peeked up at her. Her face gave nothing away.
The woman stood up. “Let me get you a drink.” Without waiting for a response, she walked over to the counter and poured two glasses of whiskey. “Here.”
Mel took the proffered glass and drank, wincing as it burned her throat. But the taste wasn’t bad.
The woman sat down in an armchair across from Mel. “I take it you’re not a whiskey drinker?”
“Nope.” The only whiskey Mel had ever tried was cheap stuff that tasted like a campfire.
“Would you like something else?”
“No, this is fine.” Mel took another sip. “It actually tastes pretty good.”
“It should. This is arguably one of the best whiskeys to come out of Scotland in the last decade or two. It’s well worth the price tag.”
Mel recalled how much even a single glass of this particular whiskey cost downstairs. For the second time that night, she held a small fortune in her hands, so she figured she may as well enjoy it. Mel sank into the soft couch, her tension clearing. There was a faint floral scent in the air. Rose, and something both sweet and spicy that Mel didn’t recognize. She could hear the faint thrum of the music from the club below. It was far softer than it should have been. The room must have been soundproof.
Mel sneaked a glance in the woman’s direction. The soft light of the room highlighted her elegant beauty. High cheekbones. Full red lips. Porcelain skin. Her hands had felt so soft on Mel’s arm.
Mel suddenly realized that she didn’t even know the woman’s name. As she opened her mouth to ask, another thought occurred to her. “You called me Melanie earlier. I haven’t told you my name.”
“There isn’t a single person who works here whose name I don’t know. And I know more than your name. Melanie Greene, twenty-three years old. Raised by a single mother in a small town in Ohio. Got into college on a full ride scholarship and graduated with honors. Currently studying law. And not even a parking ticket to your name.”
“How do you know so much about me?” Mel asked.