Page 153 of Naughty November

I frowned in confusion as I watched who I thought was a young man—but looked more like a kid—as he changed from what appeared to be a uniform to a set of baby pink sweatpants and a matchingcropped hoodie in the men’s locker room. It was hard as hell to shock me, but this? This threw me for a loop. I was pissed he was here, but since it didn’t look like he was trying to steal anything, I wouldn’t beat the shit out of him, at least not much. I’d just rough him up a bit, threaten his life, and kick his ass out.

And then I found myself surprised once more when he got out a fuckingtoothbrush and toothpaste,of all the fucking things, and brushed his teeth. A moment later, taking it easy on him was the last thing on my mind when I saw him pull out a small baggie, shake out a few pills, and then toss them back with water from the sink.

Looked like he might need a beat-down after all. Breaking and entering was bad enough, but personal drug use in my club was a one-way ticket to being permanently banned. If anyone was going to use drugs at Club Zenith, they were only the best illegal substances money could buy. This meant no one would overdose on street shit, causing issues for the club with emergency services and the police being called in. Slipping my phone into my pocket, I opened the stairwell door and made my way to the locker room near the front of the club.

I pushed the locker room door open and headed towards the back, where I’d last seen him on the camera. He must not have heard me because he was sitting on one of the benches, bent over with his elbows on his knees and his hands gripped tightly behind his neck. I didn’t know what this kid was going through, but he didn’t look like a criminal. He looked like a down on his luck, nowhere to turn, lost young man who was out of options.

I hardened myself to that though because my club was the furthest thing from an option possible. And he was not my problem. I folded my arms over my chest, my gun still clutched in my hand and on full display as I leaned back against the bank of lockers, knowing they’d make enough noise to let this kid know he wasn’t alone.

His body jerked as he sat up with a loud gasp. I straightened in surprise when I saw the beginnings of a black eye on his—admittedly gorgeous—face, which would probably be swollen completely shut come morning. Then he was on his feet, hands out in fearful desperation. He opened his mouth and tried to speak, but what came out wasa cross between a garbled mumble and a stutter that I couldn’t understand as tears leaked from his eyes.

Jesus. I scanned the boy from head to toe, realizing he was exactly my type. Stunning, half my size, delicate, emotional, and needy. It had been a long time since I’d had a boy of my own, but I didn’t have time for a beautiful twink in my life right now.

Damn, he’d be a pleasant distraction, though. One I needed badly, with all the shit going on with the family. I never made use of the courtesans in my employ, regardless of the fact they didn’t know I employed them, and running the Ares family didn’t allow for much downtime.

But then I realized where my mind was headed and I was annoyed for thinking, even for a moment, that he was my type and internally rolled my eyes. It was completely irrelevant. This kid needed to get the fuck out of my club. But not until he told me exactly how he’d gotten in and what the fuck he thought he was doing here in the first place.

Tucking the gun inside its holster—knowing he was no threat to me, even if he had been armed—I crossed my arms over my chest again and stood there, staring him down. The little shit had the balls to step closer, using his big brown puppy dog eyes on me, as if that would make any sort of difference. But I knew as soon as the thought crossed my mind that I was wrong. If I wasn’t careful, those pleading eyes might actually draw me in like a moth to a flame.

Fuck me.

TWO

ROMEO ARES

The intruder clasped his hands together in supplication, which caused my traitorous dick to twitch in my pants. Because not only was the boy needy, but he was also good at begging. I sighed and raised a brow, waiting him out as he gathered himself, took a couple of deep breaths, and finally managed to stammer out a desperate plea. “Please don’t call the police. I’m not here to steal anything, I promise.”

“And I should believe you why exactly?”

“I work here!”

I gave him a narrow-eyed glare because I knew who was on staff at the club, as I’d vetted every single one of them. “Bullshit. I know all my courtesans, and you barely look sixteen.”

He scrunched up his face in a pouty frown at what he obviously thought was an insult, just proving my point that he looked and now acted like a teenager. “Hey, I’m twenty-two, and as much as I would absolutely love to be a courtesan—especially if I were your own personal one, because fucking hell, you’re gorgeous—I’m only part of the cleaning crew.”

I felt my lips twitch at his babbling but hardened my resolve andstepped closer to him, probably a bit too aggressively, because he hopped back a step, banging the backs of his knees against the bench. He nearly toppled over it to the other side, but caught himself when his butt hit the bench and he gripped the side of it to keep from ending up in a heap on the floor.

He obviously saw the doubt written all over my face, because he raised his hands up, pleading, “No, I swear! Look!”

His desperate near shout had me leaning over him and baring my teeth. His eyes widened as he shoved his hand into his backpack, but before he could pull anything out, I had my gun against his temple. “Slowly,” I murmured menacingly.

He whimpered, and his whole body gave an involuntary shudder. Fuck if my dick didn’t take notice, bastard that it was. With a smirk on my face, I watched as he slowed his movements to a snail’s pace, which nearly made me sigh, wondering if he was this dramatic in his daily life or if it was only under threat of a bullet in his skull.

When he pulled his hand from the backpack, he held a shirt out to reveal my cleaning company’s logo on his black uniform polo, and then slow as molasses, he dug around in the bag again, pulling out his uniform pants and unclipping his employee badge. A sparkly eyed, grinning, black eye nowhere to be found version of this kid stared back at me. He kept surprising me, and if there was one thing I hated, it was surprises. His movements were desperate as he got out his wallet and showed me his driver’s license as backup proof.

“Julien Gallo.”

Nodding so fast I wasn’t sure how he kept his brain intact, Julien smiled up at me. “Well, I go by Jules. But see? I do work here.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “Since when?”

He shrugged, looking up at me, his smile slipping off his face, immediately replaced by sadness. “About a week now. But I guess that’s no longer the case.”

“No?” I asked, while putting my gun once more in its holster.

“I mean, I’m assuming as much anyway. You caught me here after my working hours.”

“Ahh, yes. I did, didn’t I? And why, exactly, are you here?”