Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 65987 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 330(@200wpm)___ 264(@250wpm)___ 220(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65987 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 330(@200wpm)___ 264(@250wpm)___ 220(@300wpm)
I'd debated all night whether to accept this invitation. After Valentina's warnings, after the rumors already circulating among the staff about why Dario had helped me with my injury, the last thing I needed was more fuel for gossip. But refusing a direct request from the owner seemed like career suicide, especially when Mr. Longmire had emphasized how unusual it was to be included in such a tasting. Even if I was just a server.
"Please, come in," Dario gestured toward the bar where an array of bottles and glasses awaited. "And call me Dario."
I hesitated, still lingering near the door. The room suddenly felt too small, too private. But I forced myself forward, my heels clicking softly on the hardwood floor. And yeah. No way I was calling him by his first name.
"Mr. Longmire mentioned I should take notes," I said, raising a small notebook slightly.
"If you'd like." He moved behind the bar, and I felt a small measure of relief at having that barrier between us. "We're testing our new seasonal menu before it launches in early spring. Seven cocktails total, starting with lighter flavors and moving toward more complex ones."
I settled onto one of the barstools, perching on the edge rather than leaning comfortably against the backrest. My notebook lay open before me, blank pages ready for notes I wasn't sure I'd be able to concentrate enough to take. Not only was I incredibly nervous, but I was uncomfortable, mainly because, being this close to Mr. Luca, there was no way I could separate my infatuation enough to get through this.
Before I could excuse myself and leave, he slid a drink in front of me. "This first one is a spring variation on a classic gin fizz," Dario explained, his movements precise as he prepared the cocktail. "Lavender-infused gin, house lemon cordial, egg white, and a dash of violet liqueur."
The tall, elegant glass before me contained a pale lavender crowned with white foam. A tiny purple flower floated on top, so delicate it might have been painted there. "It’s beautiful," I said, not reaching for the glass. “You know, I’m not sure I really need to be here, Mr. Luca.”
He gave a soft snort that grated on my nerves. “You absolutely need to be here, Belle. The staff at The Gray are an extension of my reputation. If you can’t describe what’s in the glass, you might as well be pouring beer at a dive on the pier.”
Jesus. The bluntness. He didn’t even blink as he said it. My cheeks heated immediately and I had to tamp down my temper. I picked up the glass, mostly to keep my hands from fidgeting with the hem of my dress.
“I worked a beer tap once. Not my finest moment.” I caught his gaze over the rim of the glass. “But I’m not exactly a cocktail expert.”
He didn’t look away. Just watched me, that smile barely curving his mouth. “You’re here to learn. And I’d bet money you’ll be the best I’ve ever trained, if you want it.”
My brain stuttered. The best? I barely got through a shift on two functional hands. “Have you lost your mind?” Not what I should have blurted out, but there it was.
“Try the drink, Belle,” he said, voice low, his gaze steady on my face.
With a very put-out sigh, I took a careful sip, letting the foam brush my lips. The taste was so soft and floral it almost shocked me—a little tart, but not sour, and the lavender clung on my tongue after I swallowed. I closed my eyes for a second, caught off-guard by how good the drink tasted.
“Wow,” I finally said. “That’s actually…really good.”
Dario’s intense gaze didn’t move from my face. “Describe it.”
I hesitated, but he just waited. Silent. Patient. Intense as hell. “Um, it’s soft. A little tart, but then there’s the lavender? Not soapy or anything. Just fresh. Smooth.” I took another sip because why not, we were here for this, weren’t we? “It kind of sticks around. The floral. Like getting kissed by a flower but in a nice way.” I shrugged, feeling like an idiot. “Sorry. I sound like an ad for perfume.”
Dario raised an eyebrow. “On the contrary. That’s exactly the kind of description customers respond to.” His mouth twitched. Just a fraction, but it was there. “That’s the exact reaction I hoped for, Belle. Most people just say ‘floral’ and leave it at that.”
The way he said my name. Like a dare. Like he was waiting to see if I’d break. There was something uncomfortably intimate about being watched so closely. Studied. And some masochistic part of me didn’t want to look away.
"Ready for the next one?" Dario asked, his voice betraying nothing of what he might have read in my expression.
"Yes," I replied, my voice steadier than I felt. "I'm ready."