Chapter 7. Croft Got Paid

Michael Watson takes a sip from his spring water as he watches her move across the club to the bar. Her hips sway in ways that stimulate some throbbing at the point between his legs. His groins twitch with each stride she makes. She is dressed in ratty old jeans and a worn-out hoodie, and he chuckles at her futile attempt to hide her beauty from the world. He looks around and finds none of her usual security guards around. Interesting.

It is clear to him that she has spunk beneath her docile demeanor after all. The last time he saw her, she had been sitting like an art painting all dressed in gold. He drinks from his glass again, his eyes never leaving her as she takes a seat and gestures to the bartender. So she drinks? Fascinating!

Scrutinizing her, she is not like the debutante and sorority girls that are scattered all over the east side, especially Queen’s court, the estate where all the old money from Grosthe resides. He had just arrived from a fifteen