Dirty Games: A BWWM Romance Read Online Free

blunt answer, then apparently managed to pull himself together and tried to play it cool.
    “Oh. Oh! Okay. Um. Yeah. Okay. Well then, we need to get onto that.”
    “Get on to—what? No, uh, no, I-I mean…” Rose stuttered, not understanding what Wes was on about.
    “Wes, you can’t be serious right now.”
    “I am. Come on, you need to live a little. How old are you?”
    “Twenty-four,” Rose replied.
    Wes was silent as he tapped his chin with a finger, pondering what the best course of action was.
    “Okay,” he said at last. “You’re taking a week off, starting now.”
    “What?”
    “For the next week, you will come to work, but you will enjoy the club as though you were a customer. Everything on me.”
    Rose hesitated, looking between the two of them, trying to figure out whether they were joking or not.
    “What?” she repeated, feebly, not really believing what she was hearing.
    “Are you on a quest to mess with her life?” Zenobia asked, a hint of exasperation creeping up in her tone.
    “Nope. Just to get you to have some fun,” Wes added, turning to Rose again.
    Zenobia shook her head and took half a step forward, looking way more understanding.
    “I think what my boyfriend is trying to say, with his usual eloquence, is that you need to live a little; you can’t just watch things happening around you. Trust me, I did it for long enough, and it never pays off.”
    The words rang honest, and, sadly, hit too close to home for Rose to ignore them. She swallowed and lowered her eyes, realizing for a jolt that it was the first time someone ever cared to notice how monotone her life was. And the first time someone thought about doing something for Rose, no questions asked.
    “Come on.” Wes encouraged. “You can go change in the studio while I arrange for your lucky night,” he added with a wink.
    Rose hesitated, then nodded again, finally deciding to cross the proverbial threshold and give in to Wes’s plan.
    It was with a thrill of foreboding that she walked into the studio and started taking off her bartender’s uniform as though she’d unconsciously agreed to something that was going to change her life, irrevocably and forever.
     
    ****
     
    Brent kept his keys in his pocket, surveying the club with bright, attentive eyes. He was so used to the night scene at Casa Blanca’s that he didn’t even go through the draw anymore. He just picked up a key, and whoever was waiting behind the door was fine in his books.
    Sometimes though, he liked pursuing the clientele. Tonight was one of those nights. “Hey,” he sat in a stool before the bar, nodding at Wes with a grin.
    “Brent,” Wes greeted, beaming. “How’re you doing, friend?”
    “Just fine,” Brent said easily, shaking his bangs out of his eyes. “Checking out the scene, the usual. Hi, Zenobia.”
    Zenobia nodded and waved, easy and comfortable behind the bar as though she’d always been there. Brent sometimes found it hard to believe that she and Wes had only been together four months. That was like a lifespan of five minutes, and yet they worked together like a well-oiled machine.
    Brent wasn’t as jaded as people made him out to be. Sure, he was a real player, and he had no qualms about admitting it. Relationships weren’t for him, but he was happy to dip and taste whatever flavor he could find while he still could. He was nearing his forties, though nearly everyone who first met him said he didn’t look a day over thirty. Of course, there were lots of people who thought he was too old, some even saying he was having a mid-life crisis. Brent didn’t care about them. What he cared about was getting booze flowing in his veins, grabbing a warm body for the night and fucking until he passed out.
    That’s when he saw her: standing by the far end of the bar, talking quietly to Zenobia, with long red hair and pants so tight they looked as if they were painted on. It was the very first time Brent really noticed her, yet he knew