Ice clinks musically against the glass as I swirl the amber whiskey. It's my fourth, maybe fifth, and the burn barely scratches the surface of my foul mood.

  It's my own damn fault. I should've known better. I knew he didn't feel the same way, but... ugh, I was such an idiot.

  I practically threw myself at him—a man I have to deal with professionally on a far too frequent basis. Keeping the upper hand is going to be excruciating now that I've made a fool of myself.

  His harsh words still sting. "I don't fuck children." Like I am a fucking teenager or something. I’m not. I am a twenty-seven-year-old successful business woman—among other things—and I am far from the immature, blushing virgin he must think I am.

  Maybe he was getting me confused with my fresh college graduate, na?ve as fuck brother, Yangkun. That’s how he just treated me, anyway. Like a little kid with a crush.

  "Rough night?" A smooth voice cuts through my thoughts, and I glance over as a strikingly handsome man slides onto the barstool beside me. The bar is busy, no question, but not so busy that there aren't other seats available.

  I cock a brow at the bold stranger and take a sip. "Nope," I lie, baring my teeth in a mockery of a smile. "Best night of my life." My sarcasm is thick enough to wade through. Maybe those whiskeys are finally hitting me after all. "You?"

  "Me?" He flashes me a blinding smile, and my pulse jumps in reaction. He is fucking stunning, model-level gorgeous, with a strong jaw dusted with scruff and dark lashes that would make any woman jealous. "Nah, I'm celebrating. Can I buy you a drink?"

  A genuine grin curves my lips despite my shitty mood. "Sure." I catch the bartender's eyes, silently ordering another round, then nod to the handsome companion beside me to indicate he is paying. He asks for the same as I am drinking and we fall into a comfortable silence until our drinks are delivered in front of us in gleaming cut-crystal glasses.

  "Cheers," he murmurs to me, clinking his glass gently against mine, then downing the whiskey in one smooth gulp and immediately signals for another, his gaze returning to mine.

  His eyes are a rare mix of brown and green, or maybe he wears colored contacts. Either way, I find myself smiling back.

  "So, what are we celebrating?" I ask, letting my words drawl in a clear indication I don't actually believe him. Based on the way he threw that drink back, his night is going about as well as mine.

  The model-handsome man let his own lips curve in an answering smile. "My new job," he announces. His gaze flicks away from mine for a second, sweeping over the busy club and pausing briefly on the podium dancers. Both of them are down to their underwear, and the girl is climbing the pole with admirable ease. Totally mesmerizing.

  "Oh yeah?" I prompt, suddenly curious about my new drinking buddy. He is ballsy enough to approach me; maybe he can salvage my evening. Best way to get over a guy is to get under a new one, right? "Congratulations. What's the new gig?”

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  A flicker of tension crosses his perfect face, then vanishes, replaced by an easy grin. He nods towards the male dancer on the podium. "That."

  I choke on my whiskey, just enough to send a burning blush flooding my cheeks. I dab my lips with a napkin, trying to regain my composure.

  "That?" I repeat in a strangled voice, indicating to the gorgeous man gyrating his hips in nothing but an electric-blue G-string. "You're a… stripper?"

  My new friend grins wider, turning back to me and taking a leisurely sip of his drink. "Male entertainer," he corrects with a slight nod. "Yep, sure am." There's a hint of pride in his voice, but also a shadow of something darker. Disappointment, maybe?

  Curiosity shoves aside my shock, and I run my gaze over him as subtly as I could. He is undeniably attractive, and the way he fills out his shirt speaks to a sculpted frame. Yeah, he can definitely make good money taking his clothes off. Great money, when combined with that mischievous glint in his eyes and the pure-sex way he brushes a droplet of whiskey from his lip and then licks his thumb.

  "That's cool," I commented. "So, which lucky club snapped you up? I bet you're going to be in high demand.”

  His smile turns suggestive. "Did you just call me sexy?"

  I snicker a laugh. "Was that too subtle? You're scorching. I'm not surprised you got the job. So...?" I really, really want to know which club picked up this diamond.

  The easy smile on his face falters for a split second as he answers. "This one, of course. Heavenly Earthborn is the hottest club in Beijing—everyone knows that. They pay their dancers better than all the other lousy clubs in town. I wouldn't even consider anywhere else, given the choice."

  I almost choke on my drink again. As it is, I need to take another large gulp, finishing my glass, and indicate for another. Apparently, I am going to drown my sorrows tonight and pay for it with a hangover in the morning. Fuck it.

  "Not true," he admits with a heavy sigh, his smile fading like a light switching off. "I wish it was... it was supposed to be. I guess tonight's just not my night." He drains his glass again and reaches for the fresh one the bartender has already prepared.

  "Wow," I reply, "that's..."

  One of my favorite things about the bartenders at Heavenly Earthborn: They are perceptive and often two steps ahead on drink orders.

  "They didn't hire you?" I ask, bewildered. "Were you being auditioned by a blind man? Actually, that's no excuse. I reckon even a blind man could sense your sex appeal a mile away."

  My drinking buddy snorts a laugh. "Cute. Compliments will get you everywhere." He shoots me a wink that goes straight to my pussy, which throbs in response. Goddamn.

  "Here's hoping," I mutter into my drink, watching him from beneath my lashes. He is young... but so am I. If he is applying to be a dancer, then the age gap can't be more than nine years. I celebrated my twenty-seventh birthday just a few weeks ago.

  He heard my comment, judging by the faint blush that touches his cheeks. He rubs the back of his neck. "Well, I didn't even get an audition. The manager came out and said the interviews had been canceled. No explanation, just... go home." He sighs heavily, then grimaces. "Can I tell you a secret?"

  I bit back the smile that wants to cross my lips and nod. "Of course. I'm a total vault."

  It is a bit adorable, seeing as we didn't even exchange names or... anything else, and he is acting a little like a twelve-year-old girl about to spill the details of her crush. Totally adorable. Don't get me wrong, I still badly want to drag him into one of the private VIP rooms and fuck his brains out. But I also want to pat his hair and have him tell me all his problems.

  "I really needed this job," he confesses, his voice suddenly devoid of its earlier playful lilt. "I've got some... debt troubles. The money these dancers make would have really helped, and now I'm not really sure what to do."

  Sympathy turns my stomach, and I reach out to touch his hand where it rests on the bar top between us. "So, will you try and get another interview?"

  He wrinkles his nose and sips his drink without moving his hand from under mine. "I don't really have the luxury of waiting around indefinitely for another shot here. I'll probably have a few more drinks and then go try my luck at Rod’s."

  I cringed. Hard. "Please don't."