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'm fine," I managed, though my voice sounded thin even to my own ears. "Thank you."
Dario nodded once, then glanced over my shoulder to where Marcus now stood. "Let Belle get cleaned up. Make sure she's taken care of."
"Of course, sir," Marcus replied, stepping forward.
Dario's gaze returned to mine for one more scorching moment, his eyes tracing the path of the spilled drink down my uniform before meeting my eyes again. "We'll talk later," he said, his voice low enough that only I could hear.
It wasn't a question or a suggestion. It was a promise.
Marcus placed a gentle hand in the middle of my back, guiding me toward the staff area. As we moved away, I couldn't help looking back over my shoulder. Dario stood where we'd left him, his tall figure commanding the space around him. He watched me go, his expression unreadable from this distance, but the intensity of his gaze followed me like a physical touch. I shivered, though whether from the cold wetness of my uniform or from the memory of how easily he'd rattled off details of that man's life I couldn't say.
What I did know was that I'd just glimpsed a side of Dario Luca that few people saw and survived to talk about. A side that should have sent me running in the opposite direction. Instead, it pulled me toward him like gravity, an inexorable force I wasn't sure I wanted to resist.
Mr. Wilson met us at the staff entrance. “What happened?” he asked as Marcus handed me off to him.
“Prick got fresh,” Marcus said. “Get her some clean clothes. I’ll take her to the break room and stay until you come back.”
“At once, Mr. Longmire.” Mr. Wilson gave me a concerned look before hurrying off.
Mr. Wilson wasn’t long. He came back with a fresh uniform. I thanked him quietly and ducked into the changing room, locking the door behind me. I took my time, leaning against the sink and taking a couple of deep breaths. As a server in a restaurant, I’d been grabbed before. But never like this guy. I didn’t want to think about what could have happened if Dario and Mr. Longmire hadn’t come to my aid.
Once I pulled myself together and got dressed, I slipped out of the employee bathroom with my freshly changed uniform. I’d only taken fifteen minutes, not wanting to hang my coworkers out like I had when I spilled my rent in alcohol. Now, with the smell of spilled liquor washed away and the worst of the shaking subsided, I found myself reluctant to return to the floor even though I felt guilty for basically abandoning my post.
I took my time walking down a service corridor, trying to give myself just a couple extra minutes. My wrist still ached where that asshole had squeezed, a circle of reddened skin that would likely purple by morning. The memory of his touch made my skin crawl, but it was quickly displaced by the image of Dario materializing beside me, his presence commanding immediate respect and fear.
Lost in thought, I realized too late that I'd taken a wrong turn. Instead of making my way to the kitchen, I'd ended up in an unfamiliar hallway. The floor beneath my feet had changed from utilitarian tile to plush carpet. The walls, no longer institutional beige, were now a deep charcoal with subtle patterns that caught the light. I'd stumbled into a private area of The Gray, somewhere staff like me had no business being.
I turned to retrace my steps when voices drifted from behind a partially open door to my right. One of them, deep and controlled, was unmistakably Dario's. The other, similarly low but with a sharper edge, I recognized as belonging to Vittorio Luca, Dario's brother and second-in-command.
"—incident report is complete," Vittorio was saying. "Security footage has been reviewed and archived."
I knew I should leave immediately. Nothing good could come from lingering where I wasn't authorized to be. But then I heard my name, and my feet froze to the carpet.
"Belle wasn't injured," Dario said, his voice tighter than usual. "But Gavin left marks on her wrist."
"Which is unfortunate but hardly unusual in this business, but we always protect our staff." Vittorio replied. "What's unusual is you personally handling this incident. That's what security is for, Dario. That's what I'm for."
I inched closer to the door, my heart hammering so loudly I feared they might hear it. Through the narrow opening, I could see a slice of a spacious office. Floor-to-ceiling windows revealed the glittering city spread below like a jeweler's display case. Dario stood with his back to the door, his tall figure silhouetted against the night sky, one hand pressed against the glass.
"Are we going to discuss what's actually happening here?" Vittorio asked, coming into my limited view. He perched on the edge of a massive desk, arms crossed over his chest. "Or are we going to pretend this is about maintaining order at the club?"