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attention back to me. Those pale eyes were disturbingly intense.
     
    “It's a few weeks since I was last here and I don't get round each of my clubs as often as I'd like,” he remarked. “Have you been to the New Adelphi before?”
     
    I laughed. “Oh come on,” I said. “You must be able to think of something better than the old "do you come here often?" line!”
     
    He allowed himself a tight smile. “If that's what I'd meant, then yes I probably could,” he returned coolly. “I was merely trying to find out if you'd noticed these problems with my club security over a period of time, or picked up on it all this evening.”
     
    I took a mental step back. “This is my first time at your club,” I said, making my tone as businesslike as his own. It would probably be my last, I didn't add.
     
    “In that case, you're very astute, Miss Fox,” he said. That incline of his head again, regal. He had his hair cut by a stylist, not a barber, but at least they hadn't managed to make him look like a football player.
     
    “I reckon we need someone like Charlie working here, Mr Quinn,” Gary put in eagerly, only to be silenced by a barbed glance from Marc.
     
    “It might not be quite up Miss Fox's street to throw out drunken troublemakers in a nightclub,” he pointed out dryly.
     
    “It should be. She teaches self-defence. Used to hold a class here before the place was altered. Isn't that right, Charlie?”
     
    I agreed that it was and could see Marc reassessing.
     
    “Really? I thought you handled yourself pretty well back there,” he said. “Ever done any of this kind of work before?”
     
    “The odd time or two, nothing heavy,” I said. Just keeping the druggies out of the ladies' loo on disco night at a local pub. I'd learned some illuminating new swear words and a respectful caution when it came to dealing with fired up girls who had long fingernails.
     
    He sat back in his chair, considering. As he moved the silk shirt flowed like liquid. It would have cost me a week's money.
     
    “I'll be frank with you, Charlie,” he said, coming to a decision. “We do seem to be having trouble recruiting staff here. I try to use people I've worked with before, but getting them to stay in this area is proving difficult, to say the least. The ones I am getting simply aren't the right calibre. I came up yesterday to personally take care of two people I suspected were stealing from me.” He made it sound like they were now reinforcing concrete in a motorway bridge support somewhere.
     
    “Stealing from you?”
     
    “That's correct. A hand in the till, some computer equipment, wine from the restaurant.” Out of the corner of my eye I saw Gary's Adam's apple give a convulsive jerk at that. Marc went on without a flicker. “When they started getting blatant about it I decided the time had come to let them go. Now I find that the safety of the customers is compromised, and I have to act quickly. Would you be interested in meeting with me to discuss a possible part-time job here? Just Saturday evenings for now, Fridays later if it works out?”
     
    “OK,” I said. I couldn't see the harm in talking to the man further, whatever the final outcome. I didn't kid myself that the money wouldn't come in useful. Besides, he intrigued me.
     
    He reached into the single front pocket of his shirt and pulled out a business card with a designer look to it. There was a handwritten phone number on the reverse, local, by the first three digits, and a mobile. “That's where I can be reached for the next week or so. Call me – and don't leave it too long.”
     
    That slow smile again. He stood up, shook Clare's hand and mine, then got in one last shot at Gary. “By the way, when it says no denims in the dress code, it means it. If you work for me, you don't break my rules – not for anyone,” he said, and walked away across the bar.
     
    Gary waited until he was out of earshot, then let his breath out in a gush of