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)
No place at fucking all.
Chapter Three
Belle
Two weeks later…
I balanced the silver tray precariously, my steps measured and careful as I navigated through The Gray's crowded main floor. The crystal glasses clinked softly against each other. The dozen glasses of Macallan 25, three fingers each, I was currently stressing over, cost more than my monthly salary. Two weeks into this job and my palms still sweated whenever they handed me anything more expensive than water. One slip, one mistake, and I'd be back to working three jobs just to make ends meet.
The midnight rush was in full swing. Bodies pressed together on the sunken dance floor, moving like a single organism to the pulsing beat. I slipped between tables where rich and powerful people lounged in plush velvet booths, their conversations a constant murmur beneath the music. I recognized a couple of politicians, but I’d learned most of the people who didn’t want to be noticed always positioned themselves in the shadows. The air smelled of expensive cologne, aged whiskey, and money. So much money.
"Careful, new girl," another server muttered as we passed each other. Her smile didn't reach her eyes. I'd learned quickly that kindness was a rare currency here. Two weeks. Fourteen days of memorizing drink orders, learning the private codes the staff used to identify VIPs, navigating the labyrinthine social hierarchy of The Gray. My feet ached in the required black heels, but I'd stopped noticing around day three. The tips were worth it. More than worth it. Last night alone, I'd made enough to cover half my back rent.
It always took me an hour or so for my nerves to settle. I was far enough into the evening now I’d figured out how to move with the crowd rather than against it. My gaze still wandered sometimes though, still caught on details that made my breath catch. The Gray was the most beautiful place I'd ever been. The restored bank building seemed to glow from within, its grandeur both intimidating and mesmerizing.
The chandeliers above cast amber light across the black marble floor, creating pools of warmth in the otherwise dimly lit space. Gold leaf detailing traced intricate patterns along the walls, catching the light and winking like stars.
I glanced up as I carefully maneuvered between two tables, and my steps faltered. The ceiling medallion above the main bar was illuminated tonight, spotlights highlighting details I hadn't noticed before. Intricate carvings of grape vines intertwined in beautiful patterns.
I didn't see him until it was too late. The collision jolted through me like an electric shock. My tray tipped, then upended completely. Time seemed to slow as the crystal glasses lifted from the silver surface, hung suspended for a fraction of a second, then six thousand dollars worth of expensive whiskey plummeted toward the floor. The sound of shattering glass cut through me.
Amber liquid splashed across the black marble, across polished leather shoes, across the hem of an immaculately tailored suit. I looked up, horror crawling up my throat, to meet the piercing blue eyes of Dario Luca.
The conversations around us stopped. The music seemed to fade into the background. I felt dozens of eyes turn to witness my catastrophe. I’d just destroyed thousands of dollars of rare scotch at the feet of the owner himself.
"I—" My voice died. This wasn't happening. This couldn't be happening. “Oh, God.” My voice was barely above a whisper but it felt like I’d screamed. My throat was tight and I was trembling so hard I wasn’t sure how long I could stay upright.
Without thinking, I dropped to my knees, frantically trying to gather the larger shards of broken crystal. "I'm so sorry, Mr. Luca. I wasn't looking— I didn’t see— " The words tumbled out, tripping over each other in their rush to escape. My hands shook violently as I tried to collect the pieces, making me clumsy. A shard bit into my finger, but I barely noticed the sting.
"I'll pay for everything," I promised desperately, my voice barely above a whisper. I knew paying back the money I’d just lost would be impossible. "Please don't fire me. Please. I need this job. I'll work extra shifts. I'll—I'll figure something out."
Blood from my cut finger smeared across the silver tray as I scrambled to pile up as much of the glass as I could. The whiskey had soaked into the hem of my black uniform, the scent of expensive alcohol rising around me like an accusation. I blinked rapidly, fighting back tears even as they spilled over and tracked down my cheeks. "I'm so sorry," I repeated, not daring to look up again. "It was the ceiling. I got distracted by all the lights. It was stupid, so stupid— "
My breath came in short, panicked gasps. I couldn't lose this job. I just couldn't. The back rent, the utilities I'd been juggling, it would all come crashing down. And for what? Because I couldn't keep my eyes where they belonged? The lights and the sparkle were so pretty!