Les Anders. It was a stroke of luck he’d returned that night. She poured all of her energy into seducing him, ignoring the hard glare from the man who sat behind him. Roarke could go fuck himself, especially after what he’d said earlier. She was still fuming about their exchange. Even if he hadn’t pissed her off, she still would have ignored him. She had to convince this guy he had a chance with her, so that he would actually buy her. Roarke had to know she didn’t really want to sleep with this creep. This was her job. Her set ended and she picked up the dollar bills from the floor, heading backstage. The moment she entered the shadowed corridor, Jensen cornered her. “My friend wants talk to you.” “Mr. Romero?” “No darlin’. Someone new.” He placed his hand against the small of her back, ushering her down the dark hallway. “Wait for him in room five. He’ll be there soon.” He practically shoved her inside, slamming the door behind her. The rooms were pretty much all the same— sparse furniture, a large bed that dominated the entire space.
