Chapter One
Belle
I clutched my bag against my chest as I approachedThe Grayfor my first shift, the weight of my uniform inside a tangible reminder of what this job meant. If I was careful and did a good job, I’d have stability, regular income, maybe even the chance to put a little aside each month. If I could build a small nest egg, I could make a down payment on a little house in the country. My dreams were simple. But it all started tonight.
My steps quickened across the pavement, heart fluttering with equal parts excitement and terror. This wasn't just any nightclub.The Graybore the title of most exclusive spot in the city, where the powerful and wealthy played their private games like a badge of honor. And somehow, miraculously, they'd hired me. If rumors were to be believed, the tips alone at this place could make my life considerately less shitty.
The beautifully restored 1920s bank building that wasThe Grayloomed before me, its limestone facade gleaming in the fading evening light. I slowed my pace, momentarily transfixed.Massive marble columns flanked the main entrance, their surfaces veined with subtle gray that caught the amber glow of nearby streetlights. Gold leaf detailing traced intricate patterns around the doorways and windows, glinting in the late afternoon sunlight.
I'd never worked anywhere so grand. My resume was a patchwork of dive bars and casual restaurants, places where spilled beer was mopped up with yesterday's bar towels and tips were counted in change, not twenties. This place was different. Even the air felt expensive, as if each breath cost more than I'd make in an hour.
What caught my eye next made me stop entirely. The entrance to the club proper was an actual bank vault door. The massive, circular door gleamed with polished brass. It stood partially open, revealing glimpses of crystal and velvet beyond.
I tore my gaze away to glance at my watch. Crap. I needed to get inside before I was late for my first day. I hurried toward the smaller side entrance marked "Staff Only." I quickened my pace, mentally reviewing the contents of my bag, trying to think of anything I’d missed in my anxiety. I carried my uniform in a protective bag. My bag held hair ties, makeup for touch-ups, and my work shoes.
I was so focused on my mental checklist, I didn't notice the man in my way until I slammed into him full force. The impact knocked the breath from my lungs, like hitting a wall of warm marble. My bag flew from my hands, contents spilling across the pavement in a humiliating display.
Strong hands gripped my upper arms, steadying me before I could stumble backward. I looked up, an apology already forming on my lips, and the words died in my throat. The man before me was tall with broad shoulders, impeccably dressed in a suit that even I could tell cost more than my month's rent. Probably a lot more. But it was his eyes that paralyzedme. Dark, calculating, and cold as northern lakes in winter, his gaze held mine like a cobra. An expensive haircut and neatly trimmed beard fit right in with the expensive clothing, watch, and rings. His salt-and-pepper hair only added to his air of authority. When he frowned down at me, his mouth set in a hard, disapproving line, my mouth went dry.
"I'm so sorry," I finally managed, my voice sounding small and breathless. "I wasn't looking where—"
"Clearly," he said, his voice deep and controlled, yet somehow softer than I'd expected.
My gaze clashed with his and a flush crept up my neck and bloomed across my cheeks, the heat of embarrassment scalding. The man was gorgeous. I couldn’t tell if he was amused or annoyed but those piercing blue eyes seemed to see straight through to my very soul. My heart pounded against my ribs like it was trying to escape. He still gripped my shoulders, the hold was firm but gentle.
"My first day," I babbled, gesturing helplessly at my scattered belongings. "I was nervous and the building is so… A-and I was worried about being late and…" I forced myself to stop talking, painfully aware that I’d begun to tremble.
To my surprise, he knelt down and began gathering my things. I dropped to my knees beside him, reaching for my uniform that had partially unfolded on the concrete.
"Not the best start to your employment atThe Gray," he remarked, his tone unreadable as he collected my lipstick and compact.
"No, not exactly the professional first impression I was hoping to make," I admitted, trying for a smile that felt wobbly on my lips.
Our hands moved across the pavement, collecting the scattered items. When we both reached for my employee handbook at the same time, our fingers brushed. The contactwas brief, nothing more than skin against skin for a fraction of a second, but I felt it like an electric current zipping up my arm and spreading across my chest. I jerked back slightly, confused by my own reaction.
His eyes met mine again, and something in them shifted. A mere flicker of what might have been surprise, or perhaps curiosity, disturbing the icy surface. For a moment, neither of us moved.
The spell broke at the sound of quiet footsteps and the subtle, unmistakable click of metal against metal. A man had appeared at the side of my collision victim, materializing as if from nowhere. He was average in almost every way — height, build, features — yet something about him made the hair on the back of my neck stand up. His gaze scanned me with clinical detachment, like I was a potential threat rather than a clumsy server who couldn't watch where she was going.
The taller man rose smoothly to his feet, handing me my bag with its contents mostly restored. "You should hurry," he said. "Punctuality is valued here."
I scrambled up, clutching my bag, suddenly aware of the power dynamic between us. "Thank you, Mr...?"
"Luca," he supplied, and something in his tone made it clear I should recognize the name. "Dario Luca."
The name hit me like a second collision. The owner. I had just crashed into the owner ofThe Grayon my first day. The man whose name was whispered in the service industry with equal parts fear and reverence.
"I'm sor— "
"About to be late," the second man cut in, his voice quiet but firm. His hand rested casually near his side, where I now noticed the subtle bulge of what could only be a weapon.
Dario Luca gave a slight nod. "Go. And..." he paused, something unreadable passing across his features, "good luck on your first shift."
I backed away, mumbling another apology, then turned and hurried inside the staff entrance, feeling their gaze at my back the entire way. My skin still tingled where Dario’s fingers had touched mine, and my heart refused to return to its normal rhythm. I had no business even thinking about that man. Not only was he way out of my league, but he was my boss. In a very broad sense. Not like I’d ever see him again, thankfully. I had the distinct feeling I'd just survived something but had no idea what.
The staff entrance was actually at the basement level of the building. The door opened to a narrow hallway with black walls and dim lighting, a stark contrast to the ornate exterior I'd just been admiring. Marcus Longmire, as he'd curtly introduced himself, now walked ahead of me with measured steps, never checking if I followed. I clutched my bag closer, still rattled from my stumble, and hurried to keep pace.
It wasn’t long before the hallway opened up into a larger area, elegantly decorated and welcoming. "The locker room is through there," Marcus said, indicating a door with a slight tilt of his head. "Change quickly. I'll wait."
