As I changed into my uniform, careful of my bandaged palm, I allowed myself to hope that maybe, just maybe, I could belong here after all. Even if I still had no idea what to make of Dario Luca or the electricity that had passed between us when he'd touched me. Probably just my own stupid imagination. Because the man was seriously fine. In a scary, dangerous kind of way.
I emerged into the front of the kitchen area where we picked up our trays laden with whatever we were serving that evening, automatically checking that my hair was securely pinned back.The Graywas coming alive around me as staff prepared for the evening rush. Bartenders polished crystal glasses until they gleamed under the soft amber lighting, while security personnel conducted their final walkthrough, their watchful gazes scanning every corner of the space. I flexed my bandaged hand, testing its limits. The sting had dulled to a persistent throb, manageable if I was careful. I'd survived the morning-after confrontation, now I just had to get through my shift without spilling anything else.
"Belle!" A voice called from behind me. I turned to find Sophia hurrying toward me, her dark ponytail swinging with each step.We'd started atThe Graythe same week, though she'd quickly established herself as someone who belonged here. Unlike me, she moved through the space with confidence, her laugh easy and her smile quick.
"Hey," I greeted her, automatically reaching to adjust my bandage.
Her eyes locked onto the white gauze wrapped around my palm. "Oh my God, how’s your hand? Does it hurt?" Before I could answer, she glanced around and lowered her voice. "Come here, I need to talk to you."
She grabbed my uninjured wrist, pulling me toward the service bar tucked in a quiet corner near the kitchen entrance. The area was momentarily deserted, the bartender who normally manned it still in the stockroom gathering supplies.
"Everyone is talking about last night," she whispered, her dark eyes wide with excitement. "Like,everyone."
My stomach clenched. "It was just an accident. I was clumsy—"
"Not the spill," she interrupted, leaning closer. "Dario Luca. On his knees. Helping you clean up." She emphasized each point with a small, dramatic pause. "The boss never helps clean up spills, Belle.Never."
Heat crept up my neck and into my cheeks. I looked down at my bandaged hand, remembering how his fingers had felt against mine. "He was just being nice," I murmured.
Sophia snorted. "Nice? That man doesn't do 'nice.' According to Elena, who's been here three years, he once fired a bartender on the spot for using the wrong glass for a whiskey pour." She leaned against the bar, her expression a mixture of curiosity and awe. "And then he personally bandaged your hand? In the break room? That's not normal behavior for him."
I shrugged, trying to appear casual despite the butterflies taking flight in my stomach. "Maybe he was worried about a lawsuit or something."
"A lawsuit?" Sophia arched an eyebrow. "Belle, he's Dario Luca. People don't sue him; they disappear." She must have noticed my alarmed expression because she quickly added, "I'm kidding! Mostly. But seriously, what happened in that break room?"
I traced the edge of my bandage, choosing my words carefully. "Nothing! He cleaned the cut, put on a bandage.” My voice grew higher in my anxiety. My heart started pounding and I felt a fine sheen of sweat erupt over my skin. “He told me to take the night off." I deliberately omitted the electricity I'd felt when he touched me, the intensity in his blue eyes as they'd held mine, the way his voice had dropped to a near-whisper when he'd said my name. I wasn’t stupid enough to think that encounter had been anything but one sided and my fantasies were not Sophia’s business. Especially regarding the boss.
"That's it?" Sophia looked disappointed. "No heartfelt confessions? No 'I've been watching you since your first day'?"
"God, no!" I laughed, the sound slightly forced. "He's the boss, Sophia. Even if he showed me some attention for a brief moment, everyone knows he’s way out of my league. I’m not stupid. I need this job more than I need a one night stand with a man like Dario Luca." I kept my voice to a near whisper. The last thing I needed was anyone overhearing this conversation.
"League has nothing to do with it," she countered, twirling a strand of hair around her finger. "Chemistry, on the other hand..."
I rolled my eyes, ignoring the flutter in my chest at her words. "There's no chemistry. He was just being... considerate."
"If you say so." Sophia's grin turned mischievous. "But if Dario Luca ever looked at me the way he apparently looked at you last night, I'd climb him like a tree."
"Sophia!" I hissed, my face burning as I glanced around to see if anyone had heard.
"What? I'm just saying what everyone's thinking." She laughed at my mortification. "The cookies were a nice touch, by the way. Very 'girl-next-door' charming."
"They weren't for him," I protested. "They were an apology to everyone for leaving mid-shift."
"Mmhmm." Her knowing smile made me want to sink through the floor. "Well, whatever your intentions, people are talking. Not in a bad way," she added quickly when she saw my expression. "More like... interested. You've become a bit of a mystery."
I groaned softly. "The last thing I want to be is a mystery. I just want to do my job, get my paycheck, and not have anyone looking at me."
"Too late for that, honey," Sophia whispered, her eyes darting past my shoulder. "Don't look now, but someone's definitely looking at you. And not in a good way."
Of course, the words "don't look now" made it impossible not to look. I turned slightly, trying to be subtle, and caught a glimpse of a woman at the far end of the main bar. She stood in a pool of amber light, the illumination catching on her honey-blonde hair and the expensive jewelry at her throat, right wrist, and her ears. Her elegant gray dress clung to a figure that made me instantly conscious of every curve I lacked. But it was her eyes that held me. Sharp and calculating, she fixed her gaze directly on me with an intensity that made my skin prickle.
"Who is that?" I asked quietly, turning back to Sophia.
"Valentina Reeves," Sophia replied, her voice dropping even lower. "She runs some fancy art gallery downtown, but she'sbetter known as Dario's ex. They broke up about six months ago, but she still comes in regularly. Rumor has it she didn't take the breakup well."
I swallowed hard, sneaking another glance at the woman. Valentina raised her glass slightly, taking a measured sip without breaking her stare. The gesture felt pointed somehow, almost like a challenge.
"Why is she looking at me like that?" I whispered.
