First sight

“Did you send out the news?” Morgan Daniels asked Jonah Righetti as she walked into his office, which was located at the back of the club. As usual, Laiba Fawkham sat in his lap, the two of them making out, their clothes most likely about to come off at any moment.

After having a thorough conversation with Jonah, they had both agreed that the club was doing well enough to hire two more bartenders, so he had taken charge of that.

At first, Jonah had wanted to hire a small marketing firm to advertise the opening. Although beneficial, Morgan had voted against it for one simple reason—mostly older people read newspapers, and nowadays, it was very unlikely that young adults would look through newspapers for job openings, even though some still found jobs that way.

It was too slow.

But this was a club. Morgan figured they didn’t need a newspaper ad. All they had to do was tell Trevor, the current bartender, about the opening. In return, Trevor would mention it to the young people who came to drink, who would then pass the word along to their peers. And just like that, word would spread.

Free advertising—or what Morgan liked to call “word of mouth.”

Earlier that week, Morgan had asked Jonah to inform Trevor about the job opening, hoping that by Friday, they would have some applicants.

Which was today.

“For the last time, yes, Morgan. Now can you excuse me? I’m busy,” Jonah said, clearly annoyed as he gestured toward Laiba, who gave Morgan a shy smile.

Sighing, Morgan rolled her eyes and left his office.

Jonah Righetti had been the first person Morgan met when she moved to Cleveland. Her father, Gary Daniels, had just passed away, leaving the majority share of the family’s home cleaning service company to her older brother, Roi—a company she had worked her ass off at just to prove her worth to their father.

Three days after Mr. Daniels had been laid to rest, Morgan walked in on her brother and his girlfriend having sex in her bed.

Hurt by the betrayal, she sold her share of the company to Roi and left.

Morgan had been just twenty-one when she met Jonah Righetti. At first, he was simply her roommate, but over time, they became acquaintances.

She still remembered how he had almost lost Laiba because of her. Three days after moving in, Morgan had walked into the apartment to find Laiba in nothing but a towel. Not only had Laiba thrown a fit, but she had also lunged at Morgan, threatening to beat the shit out of her. The only thing running through Morgan's mind had been, Who the hell is this woman?

Jonah had come home just in time to calm Laiba down, but she wouldn’t listen. She was convinced they were having an affair, and Morgan telling her she was gay hadn’t helped because Laiba had already made up her mind.

But after a month of death stares, awkward moments, and eventually walking in on Morgan getting lucky with a woman, Laiba had finally believed Jonah had been telling the truth all along.

Three months later, Jonah had pitched his idea about buying a failing club, revamping it, and giving it a new name. However, he had been short on finances. Morgan had the money and the business knowledge, so they decided to partner up and embark on the journey together.

And here they were, four years later—best friends and business partners.

Who would have thought?

Morgan was in charge of interviewing the applicants for the bartender positions because there were specific qualities she wanted in an employee.

The club was quickly filling up as people arrived, eager to shake off the stress of the past week. Morgan made her way upstairs to her office to review some paperwork for the renewal of the lounge’s liquor license.

Minutes into reviewing the documents, a light knock on the door pulled her focus away. She looked up to see Trevor standing in the doorway.

“There are some applicants waiting downstairs,” he said.

“Okay, thank you, Trevor. I’ll be down in a minute,” Morgan replied.

She closed the file and made her way downstairs. The dance floor was three times busier than when she had first walked up.

Three girls stood at the counter—two of them dressed in overly revealing outfits.

Trevor pointed toward them, signaling that they were the applicants.

“Good evening, ladies,” Morgan greeted them, motioning for them to step behind the counter.

Physically, one of them already met one of the criteria Morgan had in mind. She ran a lounge, not a strip club, so the girls dressed like they were auditioning for a strip show were already at a disadvantage.

“I’m Morgan Daniels, manager and co-owner of Yapaki Lounge. My partner is busy at the moment, so I’ll be handling the interview. Can I get your names?” she introduced herself.

“Terry,” the more conservatively dressed one spoke first.

“Resha,” one of the girls in the revealing outfit chimed in.

“Hannah,” the last girl purred seductively, twirling the ends of her hair and winking.

“Great. Hannah, you can go home,” Morgan said, crossing her arms, her expression unreadable.

While Morgan usually enjoyed when women were desperate for her attention, this was business. And she took business seriously.

“But—”

“You can leave,” Morgan repeated, her tone leaving no room for argument.

Hannah whined but ultimately strutted away. Almost immediately, Morgan noticed Resha subtly straightening her posture.

Sighing, Morgan turned her attention back to the remaining girls.

“Who among you—” she began, but was interrupted by the sound of Hannah’s voice.

“Watch where you’re going, bitch!” Hannah snapped.

Standing in front of her was a shy-looking girl who had just shrunk back, startled by Hannah’s outburst. And for some reason, that bothered Morgan.

A lot.

“I’m sorry,” the girl murmured, her voice soft—almost angelic.

“Whatever,” Hannah scoffed, purposely bumping into her as she stormed out.

Morgan watched as the girl took a deep breath, steadying herself, seemingly unaware of the eyes now on her.

Then, she looked up.

And her gaze locked with Morgan’s.

And at that moment, Morgan felt something she hadn’t felt in a long time.