"Don't you dare use my first name!" Catherine's voice rises another octave, drawing even more attention from the club's patrons. "You're nothing but hired help, and you'll address me with respect!"
I study her face in the dim lighting. She's beautiful, I'll give her that. The kind of polished perfection that comes from generations of wealth and privilege. But there's something ugly underneath. Something rotten that money can't fix.
"You want respect?" I ask quietly. "Then earn it."
Her hand moves so fast most people wouldn't see it coming. But I'm not most people.
I catch her wrist inches from my face, my grip firm but not quite painful. Yet.
"Bad choice," I murmur.
Catherine's eyes widen in shock. She tries to pull away, but my hold is iron.
"Let go of me!" She struggles against my grip. "Security!"
Several large men in black suits start moving through the crowd. Club security, by their look. Probably experienced with handling drunk patrons and minor scuffles.
