The hateful attraction

I don't like it

After I wrap up my day at the office, I head to The club.

By a sick sense of twisted fate, it also happens to be owned by Mr. Holland, my intense, demanding, obsessive boss from my day job. He's seemed to have a possessive streak lately okay maybe just protective, it seemed like he was always watching me more than he probably should—but we aren't dating. so why would he?

Once I'm inside the club, I slip into my outfit and head to the dance floor. The atmosphere here is electric, the lights are low and music pulses through the crowd.

I need they money, I tell myself, I have do this.

But it doesn't last. As I step out onto the stage, my gaze catches sight of Mr. Holland near the back, his dark eyes lock on me. He looks intense as he leans back in his seat with a drink in hand.

I focus on my routine, letting the music take over, but I can feel his eyes follow my every move. He doesn't look away, and it's as if the rest of the room fades out for him? His attention focused on me.

When my set ends, I head backstage to catch my breath I grab a bottle of water, and he appears in the doorway.

"You didn't tell me you'd be working tonight," he says lowly and an edge of frustration.

"It's on the schedule," I reply, trying to keep my tone casual, why would I matter. "I didn't think I needed to."

He crosses his arms, the possessiveness practically radiating from him. "I don't like the idea of you being out here alone. You know the kinds of people who come through."

I raise an eyebrow, my tone challenging. "You mean the people who pay to be here? Your customers?"

His jaw clenches almost instantly. "It's different with you. I don't want anyone getting the wrong idea."

I hold his eyes as I cross my arms "I can take care of myself, Mr. Holland." I say a bit more defensively than probably necessary.

He studies me, before letting out a breath. "Just... be careful."

With that, he steps back and he looks at me a moment longer before he finally leaves. As I watch him walk away.

Get the wrong idea? What did that even mean?

With a deep breath, I turn back to finish my shift.

After my shift ends, I slip out of my stage outfit and back into my regular comfy baggy clothes. I'm packing up my things in the dressing room before I head out.

As I step out into the cool night air, I find Mr. Holland as he leans against his sleek car a cigarette between his fingers. He looks different out here at his club he seemed less like the stern boss from the office.

I can feel him glancing at me from time to time, as if weighing his words, and finally, he speaks.

As I open up my door.

"Do you... enjoy working at The club?" he asks me curious.

I consider his question carefully. "Yeah, I do. It's freeing, in a way. I get to be someone else for a while, and it's different from the office, plus its helping me earn money." I shoot him a sideways glance. "Why do you ask?"

He's quiet for a beat, gripping the steering wheel a little tighter. "Because sometimes, I wonder if you're safe there... with other men watching you like that." He exhales deeply his frustration very evident. "I don't like it."

I feel a mixture of irritation and curiosity rise in me. "You know, you don't get to decide what's safe for me. I'm just your employee, Mr. Holland."

His jaw clenches. "That's the problem. I don't just think of you as my employee." he says low
Almost as though he didn't know
He was going to say it.

"I don't know what you expect me to say to that," I reply.

He finally looks over at me, his eyes intense and there was an undeniable possessive edge. "You don't have to say anything. Just... let me look out for you."

Elliot was the complete opposite he is the one I should want.

Just as i open my door and slip in he says.
"If you need anything... if anyone gives you trouble..." he begins with a softer now. "You know you can call me, right?"

I nod, my voice almost a whisper. "I know."

"Goodnight, Jennifer," he says with a tone I can't describe.

"Goodnight," I reply close my car doow and start my car. I drive to my apartment. As I close the door behind me.

Once I'm inside my apartment I shut the door behind me. I lean against the door, letting out a deep breath as I replay the conversation in my mind.

I shake my head, trying to clear my thoughts.

After a quick shower, I change into comfortable clothes and collapse onto my couch. I relax and watch some TV.

I hear my phone buzz, my heart skips a beat. It's not Mr. Holland; it's Elliott checking in.

Elliott: Hey! How's the night treating you?

I respond quickly, but my mind drifts back to Mr. Holland despite me not wanting it t.

Me: Just got off work. It was busy tonight. How about you?

Elliott: Same here! Wanna grab that lunch tomorrow? I havegod spots up my sleeve.

I smile at the thought of seeing him again.

Me: Sure! I'm looking forward to it.

I put my phone down and call it a night as I get comfortable in my bed.

When morning comes, I dress in a fitted blouse that highlights my curves and a pair of tailored pants.

As I step into the office, the usual buzz surrounds me, but I feel a shift in the air as I approach my desk. Mr. Holland is already there, leaning back into his chair with his arms crossed, his eyes roam over me.

"Morning," I say, trying to keep my voice steady.

"Morning, Jennifer," he says low and gravelly. "You look... different today."

"Just trying to keep things fresh," I respond, meeting his gaze with a challenge. I cannot help but see the way his eyes darken slightly.

"You're turning heads," he says with almaot a hint of irritation. "It's not just me who's noticing."

"I'm just doing my job," I reply as I cross my arms defensively.

I knew my outfit wasn't breaking in dress code.