Chapter 8
As I stepped into the room, Alex looked up, surprise in his eyes. "Morning," he said, his voice gruff from a lack of sleep. "I didn't expect anyone to be up this early."
"Couldn't sleep," I replied, stepping further into the room. "Mac had other plans."
Alex's eyes narrowed slightly. "Mac is your...mouse, correct?"
"Yeah," I said, smiling at the memory of my little roommate. "He's got quite the personality for a rodent."
Alex grunted, his eyes returning to the paperwork. "I suppose everyone needs a bit of companionship," he mumbled, his voice thick with weariness.
Stepping closer, I could see the lines of tension etched into his face. "Rough night?" I asked, leaning against the doorframe.
Alex sighed heavily, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his palms. "You could say that," he said, his words laced with a hint of sarcasm. "More like a rough two years."
I stepped closer, the scent of stale cigar smoke and whiskey clinging to the air around him. "Is everything okay?" I asked, my voice soft.
Alex's eyes snapped up to meet mine, and for a brief second, there was a flicker of something raw and vulnerable in them. "It's nothing," he said, waving a hand dismissively.
But I didn't believe him. The shadows under his eyes and the tension in his shoulders told a different story.
"Is there anything I can do to help?" I offered, surprised I was genuinely concerned.
Leaning back in his chair, Alex smirked. "Well, now that you mention it..."
Though his words were playful, the innuendo was clear. "Oh, get over yourself," I said with a laugh, rolling my eyes. "What do you need help with, really?"
Alex leaned back in his chair, his smirk widening. "Just some paperwork," he said, gesturing to the mess on the desk. "The club's taxes are a nightmare, and I've got an audit coming up. It's not exactly my strong suit."
I raised an eyebrow. "Taxes? That's what's keeping you up?"
"It's more than just taxes," Alex said, his expression growing serious. "The club's been losing money, and I can't put my finger on why. I've gone over the books a hundred times, but I keep coming up short. The audits going to be a disaster if I can't figure it out."
I felt a twinge of sympathy for him. Despite his tough exterior, it was clear he was drowning in responsibilities. "Maybe I can take a look?" I suggested. "I'm pretty good with numbers."
Alex looked up at me, surprise flickering in his gaze. "You?" He leaned back in his chair, considering my offer. "You're not just a pretty face, are you?"
"I might be able to balance your books better than I balance on those stilettos you had me wearing," I quipped, stepping further into the room.
Alex chuckled, a sound that was surprisingly warm and comforting. He pushed a pile of papers toward me, his gaze lingering for a moment. "It's all there," he said, gesturing to the mess. "Take your time. I've got to deal with some... stuff."
With that, he stood, his movements stiff, and left the room. I took his seat, the chair's leather cool against my skin. The paperwork was a labyrinth of numbers and dates, a puzzle waiting to be solved. I sighed, but there was something about the challenge that excited me. It was a change from the glamour and drama of the weekend.
The club was so still, it was easy to imagine the chaos of the night before. The empty stage called to mind the whip-cracking performance of the dominatrix and the bound submissive who had danced across it. Yet here, in the quiet of this room, the ledger book spoke of a different kind of power play—one of commerce and control.
I picked up the first set of papers, the numbers and letters blurring together at first glance. But as I began to sort through the mess, a pattern began to emerge. The numbers didn't lie. They whispered of mismanagement and missed opportunities, of a business that was hemorrhaging money. The excitement grew as I realized that this was a puzzle I could solve, a challenge I could conquer.
The quiet was broken by the sound of the door opening, and Mistress Ainsley walked in, looking as fresh as a daisy despite the early hour. She raised an eyebrow at the sight of me, elbow-deep in paperwork. "Looks like you're taking on a new job?" she asked, her voice dripping with sarcasm.
"It's just taxes," I said, looking up from the ledger. "Alex needed some help."
Mistress Ainsley's eyebrow arched even higher. "How... domestic of you." She leaned against the desk, her arms crossed. "I never took you for the accounting type."
"You'd be surprised what I can do," I said, a hint of challenge in my tone. I knew she was baiting me, trying to figure out what my angle was. But the truth was, I enjoyed the mental workout. It was a puzzle, and I was good at puzzles.
Mistress Ainsley smirked, but there was something in her eyes that told me she was impressed. "Well, if you can make sense of those numbers, you're more than welcome to try," she said, sipping at the cup of coffee in her hand. "Alex has been tearing his hair out over it for weeks."
I nodded, already lost in the sea of invoices and receipts again. "I'll see what I can do," I said, more to myself than to her.
Mistress Ainsley took a seat on the only other chair in the room, setting her coffee down with a clink. She watched me for a moment, her eyes narrowed with suspicion. After a few seconds, she murmured, "Forget your idea. He's mine."
Her words hit me like a cold shower, bringing me back to reality. "What are you talking about?" I asked, feigning ignorance.
"You know," she said, her voice low and sultry. "Alex. He's the prize here. Don't think you can just waltz in and take what's not yours."
I raised my head, meeting her gaze. "What makes you think I'm after Alex?"
Mistress Ainsley's smile was as sharp as a switchblade. "Oh, come on," she said, her voice dripping with disdain. "You're the new girl, eager to prove herself. It's written all over you."
"And what's wrong with that?" I retorted, focusing my attention back on the paperwork. "I'm just here to help."
Mistress Ainsley's laugh was brittle. "Help?" she echoed. "You're here to get a paycheck, same as the rest of us. And maybe some extra perks on the side… Like a rich husband?"
Her words stung, but I ignored the jab. "Look, I'm just trying to do my job," I said, my voice even. "If Alex needs help with the books, that's what I'm here for."
Mistress Ainsley leaned in, her eyes glinting with something akin to amusement. "And what is it you think your job is, exactly?" she asked, her tone mocking. "To save the club from its financial woes with your accounting prowess?"
I felt a spark of annoyance flare up within me. "My job is to support the club in whatever way Alex needs," I said firmly. "And if that means sorting out the books, so be it."
Mistress Ainsley studied me for a moment, her eyes sharp as she took in my determination. "Very well," she said, her smile not quite reaching her eyes. "But keep your greedy little fingers off Alex."
I rolled my eyes, focusing back on the paperwork as I muttered, "Don't worry."