Page 8 of Sinful Stolen Knight

A little of the confidence I felt while looking at my reflection in our bedroom mirror might still be there, but I’m struggling more and more to find it with every passing minute.

It’s over an hour later when Charlie finally gets fed up with me hiding and marches around the counter.

“Your time playing bartender is over, missy. I’m going to prove to you that whatever you’re scared of is only in your head.

“Those men in there won’t pay you any attention. That’s the dancer’s job.”

Sucking in a deep, calming breath, I take the tray Charlie passes me and step out from around the counter.

“Girl, you’ve got killer legs. They’re too good to be hiding.”

With a tray expertly balanced on one hand, she presses the other between my shoulder blades, giving me little choice but to move forward, toward the party.

“Is that a cheeky bit of arse I see there too? Damn, you’re gonna have them all after you.”

“I thought you said they wouldn’t notice me,” I blurt in panic but it’s too late. We’re already a few steps into the main room and one by one I swear all eyes turn on me.

All the air rushes out of my lungs as my skin prickles and my temperature spikes.

“Do you know why they’re looking?”

Because I’m fresh meat?

But I can’t make my lips move or force words from my throat.

How the hell does my sister do this almost on a daily basis? I think I seriously underestimated her level of confidence.

All I can do is shake my head. I’m frozen in place. Unable to do anything but feel my heart thumping so hard in my chest that I’m sure it’s trying to escape.

“It’s because you deserve the attention. You’re hot, Evie. Now own that sexuality and give these thirsty men a drink.”

She gives me a gentle nudge, not enough to make me drop the tray that’s somehow still in my hands but enough to drag me out of my daze.

Just serve drinks, Evie. It’s easy. You can do that. Keep your head high and just do it.

With that little pep talk, my legs move of their own accord and I find myself closing in on the least terrifying-looking table.

Most of the men are more focused on their game than me but all too soon, they all have fresh drinks and I’m forced to move to the next.

“Where are you finding these girls, Stefanos?” the guy I approach slurs after his eyes eat up every inch of me. “This one looks like she should be in her bedroom doing her homework.”

“Hey, beautiful,” the guy next to the mouthy one drawls, his eyes locked on my pushed-up tits.

“Drink?”

I shove the tray forward, trying to distract him.

“Focus on not losing all your money, Grant,” a man says from the next table, Stefanos, I assume.

“Pfft, unlikely with this little good luck charm walking around.”

“Don’t mind if I do,” the other guy says, blindly reaching for a glass, his eyes still on my body. “Have one with me,” he offers.

“No, thank you,” I decline. Even if I hadn’t been told that the girls are forbidden from drinking tonight there would be no way in hell I’d accept anything from these sleazebags.

“Shame. You need to relax a little. First night?”

Swallowing down my shame and apparent lack of confidence, I take a step back from their table.