King's Promise

Xavier’s chest swelled with pride as his pearly white smile stretched from ear to ear. “I knew you would. C’mon inside. Let me show you what else I’ve done.” He waved for them to follow him.

Once they entered through the glass doors, they walked across the black marble floors of the lobby.

“Niiiice,” Quentin finally said, bobbing his head as he took in some of the erotic artwork hanging on the walls in gilded frames. “Took it old school, did you?”

“Just a little bit.” Xavier winked and then turned. “Here is where the club’s concierge/hostess will be,” he said, pointing to a matte-gold podium. “This will also be where the limo service will check in or out when bringing in clients from Bachelors Adventures or patrons from any of the surrounding hotels.” He waved them on to follow him through the lobby and through the club’s main arched entryway.

There, both Quentin and Jeremy gave a low whistle of approval. The first thing that caught their eyes was the long U-shaped runway in the middle of the main floor with elevated seating along the side. The next thing that drew their attention was the two forty-five-foot-long bars surrounded by cushioned leather bar stools that flanked two lighted side-by-side dance stages. The rest of the seating on the main floor consisted of stationary counter-height tables with chairs.

“You’re a genius,” Q praised as a smile crept up his face. “If you tell me that you’ve added a loft upstairs, then you’ve just built my fantasy dream house.”

Cocky as ever, Xavier raised his hand to his lips, blew on his nails and then buffed them on his chest. “Well, I don’t like bragging. But—yes, I am a bit of a genius.”

“And the head swells bigger,” Jeremy joked with the appropriate eye roll.

They all laughed as the three continued to tour the redesigned club.

“See, the way I figure it, every evening the girls will descend the staircase leading to the main runway stage. That way, they can fill the room for a showcase revue and a two-for-one dance special. Off to the far right, we have a mini VIP area, which is where the customers can have a more private lap dance. And of course upstairs we have the main VIP room for private parties like Bachelors Adventures.”

Xavier watched the two take it all in. Their opinions were important. Not only because they were family, they were business partners, as well. Until recently, there had been four owners. Quentin, the initial investor, and the three King brothers: Eamon, Xavier and Jeremy.

Eamon jumped ship after falling in love with billionaire heiress Victoria Gregory. It was a love that had almost fell apart after Xavier put his foot in his mouth by mentioning how much Victoria looked like Eamon’s first love, Karen, who’d been killed by a drunk driver. It was definitely the wrong thing to say to a woman. The hardest part for Xavier was having to come clean to his older brother, and telling him what he had done. It was a good thing he had a strong bond with his brothers. Eamon never once blamed him for being dumped by Victoria and hightailing it back to New York. That was when Eamon made the decision that he wanted the rest of them to buy him out of the business.

Ever since then, guilt gnawed at Xavier. He couldn’t shake the idea that somehow he was responsible for his brother tossing in the towel to become a full-time restaurateur…and husband. Turned out that chasing after Victoria was just the thing he needed to do in order to win her back. But the four musketeers were now down to three.

“Well. I gotta hand it to you, cuz. You outdid yourself on this one,” Q said, patting him on the back. “This calls for a celebration.”

Xavier’s forehead wrinkled as he folded his arms. “Who are you kidding? Your getting out of bed is cause for celebration.”

Quentin held up a finger. “This is true. But seeing as how this swanky new shindig is going to make us a whole lot more money, I’m going to take you two out for dinner.”

Jeremy’s brows hiked. “You paying?”

“No. I was just going to drive.”

“Figures. You cheap bastard.”

Feigning shock, Q pressed a hand over his heart. “I’m offended.”

Jeremy rubbed his index finger and thumb together. “I’ve got the world’s smallest violin playing for you right now.”

Xavier shook his head while he listened to them carry on.

“Excuse me?” a soft voice floated from behind them.

The men spun around.

Xavier experienced a Mike Tyson punch to the gut when his eyes landed on a maple-brown sister with jaw-dropping Jessica Rabbit curves. How he managed to keep his tongue inside his mouth while his gaze roamed over her ripe cantaloupes that were posing as breasts and stretching the hell out of a black T-shirt with a decal that said Got Milk was a Sherlock Holmes mystery. Equally mystifying was how she managed to get her painted-on jeans over a red-beans-and-rice booty that at the right angle looked like an upside-down question mark.

All in all, those were just a few of the questions that he was more than happy to get to the bottom of.

“I’m sorry,” she said, pushing up her designer shades and flashing a smile that would make a Hollywood starlet green with envy. “I didn’t mean to interrupt, but is this where I apply for the bartending position that was listed?”

Xavier was struck by the way her voice seemed a little older than she appeared, mainly because it had a sexy huskiness to it and a slight Caribbean lilt. His lips widened. It had been a while since he’d had an island girl.

Jeremy stepped forward first. “Actually—”

Xavier grabbed him by the arm and pulled him back. “Yes. This is the place, but I’m afraid the interviews are tomorrow from four to seven. Not today.”

The woman looked down at the folded newspaper and read the classified ad again. When she saw that she did indeed have the wrong day her shoulders collapsed and she huffed out a frustrated breath. “Just great! I went through all that trouble to arrange a makeup lab test to come here today.” She slapped her forehead with the newspaper and then turned around. “All right, thanks! I guess it’s a sign that it just wasn’t meant to be.”

It was the sight of that thick butt walking away and possibly never returning that sprung Xavier into action. “Whoa! Wait,” he called after her.

She stopped and turned back around. “Yes?”

Again, he felt that punch to the gut, and when he caught his breath he smiled. “Well, since you’re already here, why don’t you let me see that résumé?”

“Great!” She quickly reached into the bag dangling off of her shoulder and handed over a single piece of paper. “I really appreciate this. It’s crazy trying to rearrange my schedule during the day—I’m in school. Med school, actually. Over at Emory, which is why working nights really fits my schedule.”

Xavier bobbed his head while she rambled on nervously.

“Cheryl Shepherd,” he read. “Twenty-seven… You’re clearly a med student like you said…but I don’t see a lot of bartending experience.”

“Well, I usually do a lot of small parties. Plus, I have an uncle who has a bar in Alabama. I used to help out there during the summers when I was in college.” She tossed in. “I probably should’ve added that.”

Xavier smiled, his gaze still caressing her curves. “Maybe we should give you a little audition behind the bar? See if you really know your stuff?”

“All right.” She nodded her head. “I’m down with that.”

He stepped back and extended his arm. “Right this way.”

Cheryl looked in the direction of the bar and strolled ahead of him, giving him a bird’s-eye view of all that her mama blessed her with.

Q leaned over and whispered in his ear, “Any chance we can talk her into putting all that into a thong?”

Jeremy shook his head. “I don’t know if even the three of us together can handle all of that. Humph. Humph. Humph.”

“Speak for yourself,” Q said, moving Jeremy out of the way and straightening his shoulders. But before he could activate his pimp walk, Xavier cut his stride off by stepping in front of him and taking the lead behind Cheryl.

In her immediate wake, Xavier recognized the sweet raspberry nectar and magnolia scent of Givenchy’s Hot Couture and his interest climbed a few more degrees. For some time now, it had been an abstraction of Xavier’s to pair women’s personalities with their choice of fragrance. What popped into his head as he followed her down the club’s new staircase was…sophisticated, sensual and bewitching. Those were his favorite qualities—for now, anyway.

“Wow. This is nice,” Cheryl praised, walking behind the bar and running her hand across the mahogany top. “Paid a lot of money for this baby.”

“And you’re going to be the first to try her out,” Xavier said, settling onto one of the stools. There was so much to marvel about her curvy body that his gaze kept darting around, trying to decide what was his favorite part. It was a three-way tie between her face, breasts and butt.

Jeremy and Quentin caught up and flanked his sides.

“All right, boys,” Cheryl said, flashing her Hollywood smile. “What will it be?”