Page 10 of Mr. Wilde

Good grief, did I give her that vibe?

“I need this to be clear. There are no relationships with members or staff. Ever. Not flirting that turns into something else. Not private conversations that feel harmless. Not ‘he’s different.’”

My shoulders tighten at her delivery, but not her words. I try to keep my expression neutral. I have absolutely no interest in pursuing anyone who attends a gentleman’s club. Not that I’m judging what they do. But a relationship is the farthest thing from my mind.

“Obviously, flirting is encouraged. We want our members to feel special when they’re here. They know where the line is. It has been made clear during their introduction to the club, but thinking that it could turn into more isn’t worth pursuing. It may only cause you to lose the object of your affection and your job.”

I nod vigorously. “I completely understand, Lala. I have no plans to do anything of the sort. I’m here to work.”

“Good. It’s not to say it’s never happened. If a member does show interest,” she continues, “it goes through Gianni. Always. No exceptions. Even if he’s charming. Even if they make you feel safe.”

Safe. The word lands heavier than the rest.

“And if Gianni says no?” Why I’m asking? I have no idea.

“Then it’s no,” she says simply. “And if someone pushes anyway, you come to me or Anthony. Immediately.”

Has something happened to one of the girls? The fine hairs on my skin start to prickle. Have I really thought this through, working in a place like this? I nod again, slower this time. “Has that… happened?”

She exhales quietly, glancing down the hallway before meeting my eyes again. “More than I’d like to admit. The rules are in place to protect us. But safeguards only work if we don’t blur the lines.” There’s a careful tone to her voice now. “There are more than enough girls here who try to skirt the line. It’s exhausting watching them like a hawk. And one wrong move on the wrong day, and it could be their last. I just want to make this clear from the beginning.”

Again, I nod like a bobblehead doll.

“Look. You seem like a sharp girl. I’m hoping to reduce the need to constantly watch over everyone here. I have my hands full with two of your dimwitted co-workers.” She rolls her eyes. “I personally like knowing where the boundaries are. It keeps things controlled.”

I feel myself relax a fraction. “I don’t plan on crossing any lines, Lala. I need this job. Not a husband.”

Lala’s expression softens. “That’s what most of us say at first.” She reaches out and adjusts the spaghetti strap of my little silver cocktail dress, in an almost maternal gesture. “You don’t owe anyone here anything but professionalism. Not your story. Not your past. And definitely not your heart.”

My throat tightens unexpectedly. “Thank you.”

She smiles. It’s small but sincere. “Good. Because you strike me as someone who gives too much without realizing it.”

I force a light tone. “You just met me.”

She arches a brow. “Like I said. I notice things.”

The music swells again as we step back toward the main floor. “One more thing,” she adds quietly. “If Gianni does approve a relationship with a club member or someone from the staff, and that’s rare, it’s because he believes it won’t put you in danger. He doesn’t play with people’s lives.”

“Got it, Lala.” I salute playfully. “Never going to have to worry about that with me.”

She grins. “Good. Now let’s get you trained before Fern starts telling members you’re her long-lost cousin and starts following you around everywhere.”

From across the room, Fern waves enthusiastically at us, already proving Lala is probably right.

I follow Lala back into the noise, her words settling into me like rules etched in stone. No relationships. No exceptions. Protect yourself at all costs. Sounds like the story of my life. And I’d planned to do just that before I even knew rules to that extent existed.

I simply don’t know yet how quickly those plans are going to unravel.

I tie my long, light pink hair back before my shift starts. I know it would look prettier down, more seductive, and fitting the vibe of this place. Yet I’m already a nervous wreck. I need to be able to have an unobstructed view of my surroundings at all times.

I silently coax my fingers to remain steady despite the tremble in my limbs, repeating my well-honed steps, the inner monologue I use for stressful situations like these.

Name five things you can see.

Four you can touch.

Three you can hear.