The Russian's Assertive Lover (The Tonov Triplets Series Book 2)
Read The Russian's Assertive Lover (The Tonov Triplets Series Book 2) Online
Authors: Ivy Iverson
This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is entirely coincidental. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events and situations either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used factiously.
All rights reserved. No parts of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without written consent from the author.
Table of Contents
“Strip, dance, or serve?”
“Serve.” Courtney replied quickly.
The man in front of her, Nikolay Tonov, one of the notorious Tonov triplets, barely raised an eyebrow at her response. Notorious and incredibly sexy, she thought to herself as she tried not to appear affected by his looks.
“What makes you think you should get the job?” he asked.
“I'm a hard worker,” Courtney replied. “I don't take breaks and I don't hurry customers because my shift is ending. I can memorize any menu in less than ten minutes and I know who ordered what.”
“For almost any restaurant, those are all admirable qualities,” Nikolay responded, “But this is a strip club. You'll have to get used to a hand or two groping your ass, suggestive comments, and dressing more provocatively.”
She grimaced. None of that sounded the least bit appealing but she had no other options; not so long as she had that
mark
on her. Her right hand absentmindedly went to the tattoo on her left hand at the thought of it. “I can handle it.”
He looked skeptical, but Courtney knew that didn't necessarily mean anything. She knew that despite his misgivings, there was still a good chance she would get the job. In a state where the average age was 66, it would be difficult to find an ideal candidate for a waitressing job at a strip club. It didn't help that it was cold outside two-thirds of the year, and the idea of going to work in a skimpy outfit wasn’t appealing.
“You're scrawny,” Nikolay said, as he looked her up and down. “You don't have any strip club experience, you are rude, and I doubt you would be here if there was any other place that would hire you. Give me one good reason why I should hire you.”
“I look better than half your girls dancing on the floor right now.”
Nikolay raised an eyebrow. “It is only late afternoon. The dancers who bring the most money won't be here until after eight.”
There was a knock on the door and a woman wearing a hideously low-cut top poked her head in. “Mr. Tonov, there are some people milling about the back door. They say that the homeless shelter is full and they have nowhere else to go. Do you want me to call the police?”
Nikolay didn't hesitate. “Bring them to the break room,” he said. “Get them some tea and coffee. I'll be there in a few minutes.”
The woman nodded, “Of course.”
Courtney turned from the closed door to Nikolay, eyebrows raised in surprise. It seemed big of someone who had no problem parading women in front of perverts and womanizers for cash. He caught her look and shrugged, his face as readable as stone. “We all fall on hard times now and then,” he said. “Believe it or not, I am not a monster. But I think we're done here.”
“Great,” Courtney said. “You have my email address.”
“E-mail?” Nikolay said, his brow furrowed. “I don't like email, give me your number.”
“Sorry. I don't get good cell phone service. Plus I check my e-mail every fifteen minutes, much more reliable.” She smiled, hoping he wouldn’t question her, “We’re in the 21
st
century now, Mr. Tonov.”
“It sounds to me as if you do not want this job, Ms. Melard.”
“Actually,” Courtney said, rubbing her tattoo again, “I want it very much. Don't mistake my refusal for reluctance.” She gave him a cool smile before seeing herself out.
As she walked out, Courtney hoped that she looked more confident than she felt. If she didn’t get this job, her plan would’ve failed at the first hurdle.
Nikolay glared at the door. He wasn't sure what he disliked more about Courtney Melard: her ugly and very noticeable tattoo, or her stubbornness. Not that either mattered from a business point of view. She was clearly the best candidate for the job. Not only did she have restaurant experience, but she was also very attractive.
And she knows it.
He rubbed his forehead in irritation.
When Nikolay had taken over the failing strip club, there were plenty of young college girls who were taking loans from his brother. Valov started sending them to Nik after he bought Suds, and they would work the floor as both dancers and waitresses until the loan was paid off.
It worked well for both of them, but ever since Val started dating Rae, he had shifted his focus. Now, instead of enticing desperate people with huge loans, he was organizing football games, tutoring sessions, and rock bands for at-risk youths around the Maine area. Unlike their brother, Dimitri, Nikolay couldn't be happier for Valov, except when he needed to hire new employees.
Courtney Melard in particular.
There was something dishonest about her. And she didn’t seem to mind standing up to him.
Just get it over with, already. You know there are no better candidates.
Nikolay pulled out his phone and hit “compose” in his email.
“Who only uses e-mail,” he muttered. Calling her would be so much easier. He typed a short, brusque message:
I'm hiring you on a trial period. Be here tonight at seven
.
There. That would give her plenty of time to get ready for tonight, if she checked her email as often as she said.
Nik got up, remembering the homeless in the break room. The least he could do for them was to make sure they were comfortable for a few hours. Maybe he could set some of them up with jobs, or see if they had children.
After all,
he thought as he moved to the break room, flashing smiles and exchanging pleasantries with both customers and employees,
I would have welcomed help when I was in the same position.
Courtney reached her sparse apartment in the outskirts of Brewer only a few minutes after receiving Nikolay’s email. She grinned with relief as she read it and rubbed her tattoo.
With the tips I can get there, it'll only be a matter of time before I can get this damn mark removed.
Courtney wanted to be a doctor, but until the tattoo was removed, there was no way she was prepared to start training at the prestigious Eastern Maine Medical Center, no matter how desperate she was. Hell, with her parents' deaths four years ago and her student loan debt spiraling out of control, there was no way she could afford medical school.
Getting the tattoo removed would be the first step. She would see about medical school after that. However, before she started work, she needed food. She didn't have a kitchen in her apartment, only a hot plate and a mini-fridge. Not that she had much need for one anyway. Until her financial situation was straightened out, it would be noodles and hot dogs for her. After Courtney got the pot of water heating up, she went to look at herself in the bathroom mirror. She only had a half hour before she had to leave for Suds.
Who names a strip club Suds? It sounds more like a laundromat.
It didn't matter. Money was money. “But what does a waitress in a strip club wear?” she murmured.
She had made a point of looking around the place after her interview and all of the wait staff wore uniforms of black short shorts and crop tops with
Suds
bedazzled on their chests, but footwear and makeup was up to them. She had no idea what exactly got good tip money in a place like that, but she doubted that her favorite pair of sneakers and a messy ponytail would have her raking in the cash.
Courtney grabbed her makeup bag off the back of the toilet and did up her eyes in smoky shadow and eyeliner before putting on her reddest lipstick. She looked like a cross between a china doll and a whore, but it matched what many of the women had on at Suds.
She went back into the kitchen just as the water on the hot plate began to boil. She added noodles before going to her meager supply of shoes piled up in the corner next to her sleeping bag. She still had no furniture in her apartment and she didn't plan on buying any anytime soon. She could barely pay for rent and the minimum payment on her loans as it was. Besides, if everything went according to plan, she would be in medical school soon and she would be so busy studying and sleeping that she wouldn't mind the lack of furniture.
Her only pair of heels was two-inch black sandals that she had bought for fifty cents at a yard sale when she was eighteen. They were for her first job waitressing. She hated them now. She had enough reminder of that time with those initials carved into her skin without wearing the shoes that she used to find comfortable and fun.
Shaking herself, if it got her the tip money, then it didn't matter. She took off her socks and sneakers and slipped them on. They still fit, of course. It wasn't as if she could afford enough food to put on any weight, but the reminder was making her skin crawl. She took them off and put her sneakers back on. She didn't have to change into them until she was at the club.
It was more practical to wear closed-toe shoes anyway now that winter was rearing its ugly head, she thought to herself as she sat cross-legged on the floor next to the hot plate and began eating straight out of the pot with a fork. As she ate, her thoughts wandered from her new job to her new boss.
He was an asshole that was for sure.
Not that she would expect anything different from someone running a strip club but he was an asshole that invited homeless people out from the cold? That part didn't make sense. Unless, perhaps, he wanted to establish a good name for himself or get them hooked on drugs and girls. Who knew? She knew his brother ran a loan shark business, so perhaps Nikolay would hook them up with him. If there was a truly altruistic person out there, she had yet to meet him and she certainly didn’t expect to find one in someone who had the reputation of being a member of the Russian mob.
*****
Courtney arrived at Suds at seven on the dot. Nikolay barely glanced at her when he gave her the uniform.
“You can change in the back. Oh, and you'll want these.” He handed her a pair of black lacy fingerless gloves and glanced down at her hand. “Your boyfriend's initials, I'm guessing?”
Her stomach churned at the thought of the tattoo, especially when he said it was her boyfriend. She looked down at the two swirly letters that were intertwined with each other. “I didn't think tattoos would matter in a place like this,” she said.
“Ordinarily, they don't,” he replied. “But I find it bothersome, so cover it up.”
She rolled her eyes and snatched the gloves out of his hand, as she thought she caught a smirk on his face. He must still be annoyed about having to send her an email because he was on a major power trip and both of them knew it. “I'll be ready in two minutes.”
“Excellent. Scarlett, the curly brunette working the bar, will tell you what you need to do. I expect diligence from my employees, Ms. Melard, and it is in your best interest that you remember you are on a trial period of seven days. I’m required to give you breaks every three hours, and those breaks are to last no longer than fifteen minutes.”
“I told you I don't take breaks,” Courtney muttered before spinning on her heels and turning to the employees’ only section of the club, where the bathroom was.
And I won't take another damn break again until after this damn tattoo is off my body.
