Deceitful Vows (Marital Privileges #2)

32. Zoya

32

ZOYA

W ith our search for cheap seats taking longer than expected—even with it still seeing us stuck on a red-eye—I exit Nikita’s apartment with her the following morning.

We hug at the front of her building before she heads to Myasnikov Private Hospital for what should have been her first solo shift while I direct my steps to the employment agency whose agents are still angry at me for botching an almost guaranteed placement.

They’ve never had an applicant turned down by KADOK Industries, and they didn’t see the humor when I said I was glad I was their first.

Partway down Jessop Street, my phone buzzes.

“Shit,” I mutter to myself when the removal of my phone announces it is switched on and with full service. The dirtbox is flat, which is odd considering I just charged it. Its battery must be fried from overuse. I have been utilizing it twenty-four-seven over the past week.

If only I could silence my moans just as readily.

After taking a mental note to carry a portable battery pack with me everywhere I go, I open my messenger app to see who the text is from.

My pace slows when I notice it is a message from the employment agency I am about to visit.

Worx Connect:

We’re pleased to announce you have an interview for a bookkeeping position this afternoon at 2 p.m. A prospective employment package and interview details have been forwarded to your email and the inbox of our app. Good luck.

The message is worded so similarly to the one I had for KADOK Industries that I don’t immediately veer for my inbox. I press the number at the top of the text screen and then squash my phone to my ear.

“Worx Connect. This is Marcell. How can I help you?”

I tell Marcell about the text and request confirmation that the placement is legitimate.

“Yes. We’re seeking an applicant for a newly advertised position. The hours are flexible, and the pay rate is…” Excitement heats my blood when a whistle finalizes her reply.

“Are there many other applicants?” I don’t want to get my hopes up. I’ve had my fair share of disappointments lately.

“Ah… no. You’re the only one.”

My excitement takes a back seat for curiosity. “Why?”

Marcell takes my bluntness in stride like it was anticipated. “The position is a little… risqué, so we’re struggling to obtain other interviewees for it.” After a brief pause, she gets to the point. “It’s at Le Rogue.”

My throat grows scratchy as my eyes bulge. “The strip club?”

I apologize to a lady I startle with my loud roar before curtseying to a handful of construction workers promising to visit me during my first shift while Marcell hums an agreeing yes.

Once I’m out of earshot of potential future customers, I say, “The text said it was for a bookkeeping position.”

“It is. Tasks include payroll, profit and loss, the maintenance and updating of all account ledgers, and…”—you never stop aging, but with how many delays I’ve faced over the past twenty-four hours, I feel like I am aging at twice the speed of everyone else—“you will be in charge of collecting and distributing the tips between the dancers.”

I’m still not seeing an issue, although something seems off. Butterflies are fluttering in my stomach. That usually only happens when my intuition is warning me to be cautious— or when I’m horny.

Since that side of my brain has only led me to trouble lately, I ask, “Are there any other vacancies needing fulfillment?” When Marcell sighs, I add, “I’m not saying no. I am merely keeping my options open.”

“Oh…” Ruffling sounds down the line. “There’s a tattoo artist vacancy in Durando or…”—more flicking—“a live-in maid’s position at a?—”

“I can’t draw, and the only time I wrangle fitted sheets is when I’m being thoroughly fuc—” I stop before I’m forced to find another employment agency to represent me. “I’m not maid material.” When Marcell hums in agreement, I breathe out slowly. “So I guess I’ll keep my fingers crossed for a good result this afternoon.”

She sounds more relieved than shocked. “Wonderful. I’m sure you will do great. This job sounds right up your alley.” She has the kind of tone that makes you believe criticisms are compliments. “I’ll text you the address so you won’t have to scroll through the app to find it, and I’ll give you a call tomorrow morning to see how it went.”

“Great. Thanks.”

Her enthusiasm would usually rub off on me. I’m not feeling it today. It feels like a storm is brewing, but there isn’t a single cloud in the sky.

I’m going to pretend it is because you can’t experience a rainbow without first enduring the storm, because if I were to share the real reason for the sweat skating across my skin, you’d call me a whore.

“We have two guys on the door every night. Three bouncers backstage, and the bartenders have been trained in dispute resolution.” Lilia, the person interviewing me for a position at Le Roque, twists to face me. “I won’t lie. It is a little rowdy on the weekends, and although most of the patrons’ focus should be on the dancers”—she pushes her glasses up her slim nose as her eyes rake my body—“you may get an equal amount of attention. Are you sure you want to apply for the bookkeeping position? You could make a killing as a dancer.”

“I’m sure.” My tone is as unconvincing as the one my third building supervisor in the past two months used when he arrived to fix my landline phone.

I have no clue where Luka went. He up and vanished as fast as Mr. Fakher. But Mr. Hernandez was extremely obliging. He even assisted me with a leaking pipe in the bathroom, and not once did he ogle my booty shorts while doing so.

“Okay.” Lilia smiles sweetly before asking, “So what do you think? Would you like to join the Le Rogue family?”

Recalling how minimal the job classifications were this morning, I accept the hand she is holding out, without a single snippet of hesitation.

“Great! Let’s get you signed up.”

Before she can race away, I snatch up her arm. I hate asking for favors so soon into a budding work relationship, but I don’t have much choice. My baby sister is getting married, and I refuse to miss out on that part of her life for anything or anyone.

“Is there a chance I could request a small favor?”

Lilia pats my arm, saving herself from a dreaded my-life-sucks grumble. “Of course. But I’m sure whatever you need will be fine. For the right team member, I can make a V look like a U.”

I smile in gratitude before following her into her office for my first official placement in over a year.