her ruby lips pursed, she glanced over her shoulder and scrutinized Danika with obvious disdain. Raising a sculpted brow, she stalked out of the locker room, blasting a vicious, “You snooze, you lose,” over her shoulder.
“Bitch!” Danika said through clenched teeth. Irritated, she snatched up her purse and proceeded to cram it into her locker with a bit more force than was necessary.
Just bite your tongue and keep it together, Danika. You won’t have to deal with her forever. Just until you make enough money to pay off Douchebag’s debt.
Desperate to rid herself once and for all of the abusive, two-timing, money-grubbing loser she’d mistakenly married, Danika had been forced to take on a second job. The pay from her day job as a clerk wasn’t enough to cover the mountain of debt her perpetually unemployed ex had left her, and filing bankruptcy was an option she stubbornly refused to entertain. Her pride wouldn’t allow her to accept financial defeat, regardless of its practicality.
Unfortunately for Danika, with the country’s growing economic slump, there were few jobs to choose from, and even fewer that paid well. If she were to have any hope of tackling her financial nightmare, she needed a job that paid well, which is how she ended up at Masquerade, the hottest nightclub in town.
Danika sucked in a deep breath and exhaled long and slow. She kicked off her favorite pair of red heels and stripped out of the tailored white blouse and sleek black pencil skirt she’d worn to the office. With a shake of her head, she eyed the green monstrosity hanging on the costume rack with contempt. The getup showed absolutely everything, which meant she’d be going commando as panty lines were a definite no-no.
Clad in only her white lace bra and matching panties, she stalked across the small room and ripped the dreadful outfit from its hanger. This would be the third week in a row she was forced to wear the hideous monstrosity, and dammit, she was pissed. Lateness aside, being the new girl apparently meant you got the shit end of the stick.
Disgusted with her Negative Nelly attitude, Danika slammed her lids shut and inhaled a slow, steady breath. “Cool your jets, girl. Just put on the nightmare outfit and get the job done.” And be happy you have this job, she thought as she unclasped her bra and stepped out of her panties. Things could be a whole lot worse .
Donning her mental armor, she bent over, ready to shimmy the silvery spandex up her leg when a low whistle carried across the room. The baby hair on the back of her neck shot up as every muscle in her body simultaneously stiffened in fear.
“Goddamn… If that isn’t the sweetest piece of ass I’ve ever seen. I knew I was right to hire you.”
Clutching the costume against her naked flesh in a vain attempt to cover herself, Danika whipped her gaze toward the sound of the unwanted intruder and gasped.
“Tony! What are you doing in here? I’m changing! Please! Get…get out.” Her voice trailed off as a wave of nausea tore through her gut. The way he ogled her with that greasy, lecherous sneer made her want to toss her cookies in the middle of the break room. Instead, she swallowed back the bile coating her tongue and held it together. Yakking in front of her boss was a sure-fire way to get canned, and dammit, she needed this job—badly. Criminy! Between the less than stellar costume she’d been left with and Tony’s Peeping Tom routine, her evening was off to a craptastic start.
Tall, with a dark complexion and wiry build, her boss Antonio “Tony” Bocce, looked as though he’d been plucked straight out of a gangster movie with his slick, jet-black hair and pinstriped suit. Danika knew he was a perv when he’d subtly propositioned her for sex during her initial job interview, but was willing to overlook his disgusting nature when she discovered how much money she could earn. Desperate times called for desperate measures. She needed to earn her
“Bitch!” Danika said through clenched teeth. Irritated, she snatched up her purse and proceeded to cram it into her locker with a bit more force than was necessary.
Just bite your tongue and keep it together, Danika. You won’t have to deal with her forever. Just until you make enough money to pay off Douchebag’s debt.
Desperate to rid herself once and for all of the abusive, two-timing, money-grubbing loser she’d mistakenly married, Danika had been forced to take on a second job. The pay from her day job as a clerk wasn’t enough to cover the mountain of debt her perpetually unemployed ex had left her, and filing bankruptcy was an option she stubbornly refused to entertain. Her pride wouldn’t allow her to accept financial defeat, regardless of its practicality.
Unfortunately for Danika, with the country’s growing economic slump, there were few jobs to choose from, and even fewer that paid well. If she were to have any hope of tackling her financial nightmare, she needed a job that paid well, which is how she ended up at Masquerade, the hottest nightclub in town.
Danika sucked in a deep breath and exhaled long and slow. She kicked off her favorite pair of red heels and stripped out of the tailored white blouse and sleek black pencil skirt she’d worn to the office. With a shake of her head, she eyed the green monstrosity hanging on the costume rack with contempt. The getup showed absolutely everything, which meant she’d be going commando as panty lines were a definite no-no.
Clad in only her white lace bra and matching panties, she stalked across the small room and ripped the dreadful outfit from its hanger. This would be the third week in a row she was forced to wear the hideous monstrosity, and dammit, she was pissed. Lateness aside, being the new girl apparently meant you got the shit end of the stick.
Disgusted with her Negative Nelly attitude, Danika slammed her lids shut and inhaled a slow, steady breath. “Cool your jets, girl. Just put on the nightmare outfit and get the job done.” And be happy you have this job, she thought as she unclasped her bra and stepped out of her panties. Things could be a whole lot worse .
Donning her mental armor, she bent over, ready to shimmy the silvery spandex up her leg when a low whistle carried across the room. The baby hair on the back of her neck shot up as every muscle in her body simultaneously stiffened in fear.
“Goddamn… If that isn’t the sweetest piece of ass I’ve ever seen. I knew I was right to hire you.”
Clutching the costume against her naked flesh in a vain attempt to cover herself, Danika whipped her gaze toward the sound of the unwanted intruder and gasped.
“Tony! What are you doing in here? I’m changing! Please! Get…get out.” Her voice trailed off as a wave of nausea tore through her gut. The way he ogled her with that greasy, lecherous sneer made her want to toss her cookies in the middle of the break room. Instead, she swallowed back the bile coating her tongue and held it together. Yakking in front of her boss was a sure-fire way to get canned, and dammit, she needed this job—badly. Criminy! Between the less than stellar costume she’d been left with and Tony’s Peeping Tom routine, her evening was off to a craptastic start.
Tall, with a dark complexion and wiry build, her boss Antonio “Tony” Bocce, looked as though he’d been plucked straight out of a gangster movie with his slick, jet-black hair and pinstriped suit. Danika knew he was a perv when he’d subtly propositioned her for sex during her initial job interview, but was willing to overlook his disgusting nature when she discovered how much money she could earn. Desperate times called for desperate measures. She needed to earn her
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