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)
The words sent a shiver down my spine, not of fear but of anticipation. Like I was only postponing the inevitable. I wanted to deny it, to insist this was a one-time lapse in judgment that would never be repeated. Instead, I said nothing, knowing any denial would ring false.
I turned and fled, the door closing behind me with a soft click that seemed to echo in the empty corridor. My lips still tingled from his kiss, my body still hummed with unfulfilled desire. Once I rounded the corner, I leaned against the wall, pressing a hand to my stomach, trying to gather the scattered pieces of my composure.
What had I done? Everything I'd worked for at The Gray, the stability, the respectable job, the chances to build something for myself, all of it now balanced on a knife's edge because I couldn't maintain professional boundaries. Because one taste of Dario Luca had made me hungry for more in ways I hadn't believed possible.
I pushed away from the wall, straightening my dress with hands that still trembled slightly. I had a shift to work, customers to serve, a role to play that didn't include being the woman who'd just been thoroughly kissed by someone like Mr. Luca. I would go downstairs, change into my uniform, and act as though nothing had happened.
But as I made my way toward the staff area, I knew with absolute certainty that everything had changed. The line between us had not just been crossed, it had been obliterated. And despite all the warnings, despite all the reasons it was a terrible idea, a part of me I'd never acknowledged before was already counting the hours until I would see him again.
Chapter Nine
Belle
I balanced the heavy tray of cocktails with an abundance of care, weaving between tables where the wealthy and beautiful congregated like exotic birds at a watering hole. My steps were measured, my smile fixed in place, though beneath the professional veneer my thoughts tumbled like clothes in a dryer. Twenty-four hours since I'd kissed Dario Luca. Twenty-four hours of replaying that moment, of feeling his hands on my waist, his mouth against mine. Twenty-four hours of telling myself it could never happen again. The Gray seemed smaller tonight, the air charged with a tension that might have been my imagination, but felt as real as the weight of the drinks on my tray.
So far, I'd managed to avoid him. No easy feat considering his presence seemed to fill every corner of the club even when he wasn't physically there. I'd spent my entire shift with one eye on the VIP section, tensing whenever a dark-suited figure appeared in my peripheral vision.
"Belle!" Alison spoke to me as she passed, carrying her own tray of empty glasses. "Table seven needs another round of champagne."
I nodded, grateful for the distraction. The music pulsed around me, a heartbeat for the writhing mass of bodies on the dance floor. Crystal chandeliers caught the light, fracturing it into thousands of tiny stars that danced across the ceiling and walls. I took a deep breath and refocused on my task, delivering the tray of signature cocktails to a table of finance types who barely glanced at me as I set each drink before them.
"Anything else I can get you?" I asked, my server smile firmly in place.
One of the men looked up, his gaze lingering a beat too long on my chest before he shook his head. I turned away, used to such appraisals, and headed back toward the bar to collect the champagne for table seven.
The crowd parted and closed around me like water. A woman in a red dress that probably cost more than my monthly rent laughed with her head thrown back, exposing the long line of her throat and the diamonds that glittered there. Two men in tailored suits spoke in low voices, their heads bent together over what looked like stock projections on a tablet. All of them spending a small fortune on alcohol.
I was so focused on navigating the packed floor that I didn't notice the man until his hand clamped around my wrist like a vise. My empty tray tilted, and I barely caught it before it clattered to the floor.
"Well, aren't you a pretty little thing," he slurred, his breath reeking of expensive bourbon. His grip tightened, pulling me toward him with enough force that I stumbled. "I've been watching you all night."
"Sir, I need to get back to the bar," I said, keeping my voice level despite the spike of adrenaline. "If you'd like to order a drink, I'll be happy to bring it to your table."
His other hand found my waist, fingers digging in with uncomfortable familiarity. "I'd like to order you, sweetheart. To go." His companions laughed, the sound grating against my already frayed nerves.