Sophia raised her eyebrows. "Three guesses, and the first two don't count."
"That's ridiculous," I whisper-yelled, turning my back fully to Valentina. "Nothing happened with Mr. Luca!"
"Maybe not," Sophia conceded, "but she doesn't know that. And after last night's little display, she probably thinks you're his newest... interest."
The idea was so absurd I almost laughed. "Me? And Dario Luca? Please. He probably doesn't even remember my name."
"I wouldn't be so sure," Sophia murmured, her gaze moving past me again. "The way he looked at you last night... well, people noticed. Including, apparently, his ex-girlfriend."
I shook my head, determined to change the subject. "We should get to work. Doors open in thirty minutes."
"Fine, avoid the topic," Sophia sighed dramatically. "But this conversation isn't over. I want details. All of them." She pointed at my chest, giving me a stern look. Then she broke out in a smile and looped her arm through mine as we headed off.
We moved back toward the main floor. I couldn't resist one final glance in Valentina's direction. She still watched, her perfectly manicured nails now tapping a slow, deliberate rhythm against her glass. There was something predatory in her gaze, something that made me instinctively want to make myself smaller, less noticeable.
I turned away quickly, focusing instead on preparing my service tray, checking my section assignments, anything to distract from the unsettled feeling in my stomach. The notion that Dario Luca, the boss, might have shown me special attention was too absurd to consider. Men like him didn't notice women like me, not in any meaningful way.
And yet, the memory of his touch lingered, as did the intensity of his gaze when our eyes had met. I shook my head, dismissing the thought. I was here to work, to earn a paycheck that would keep a roof over my head and food on my table. Everything else was just workplace gossip, the kind that would die down as soon as some new drama emerged. Besides, the very last thing I needed to do was become embroiled in some kind of workplace tryst because it was always the nobody employee like me who got canned. Never the owner of the place.
By the time I finished my preparations, I'd almost convinced myself I was right.
Chapter Six
Belle
I weaved through the crowd atThe Graywith a tray of empty glasses balanced on my uninjured palm, my steps careful and my full attention on where I was going. The last thing I wanted was a repeat of the previous night while navigating this luxurious maze. The encounter with Valentina had upset me on so many levels, but it also conjured the memory of Dario Luca’s touch on my skin, sending an uncomfortable spark through my chest. I tried my best to ignore the feeling as I focused on not colliding with the beautiful people who filled every corner of the club.
Music pulsed through the air, vibrating through my body as I slipped between tables where the wealthy and powerful reclined like modern royalty. I'd learned some of the regulars and their preferences, anticipated their needs before they voiced them. Sophia had helped me tremendously in that regard. I swear, the woman had a photographic memory.
"Belle," called a man from a corner booth, his suit probably worth more than my yearly rent. He was a regular whose nameI'd never learned, but whose generous tips had helped me catch up on my back rent. "Another round for the table, please."
I nodded with a smile, mentally calculating the order. "Right away, sir. The usual for everyone?"
He grinned, clearly pleased I'd remembered. "You're a treasure. Yes, little Belle. The usual." He was older and unfailingly kind, but I wasn’t fooled. One thing I’d learned since I’d started working atThe Graywas the most powerful men and women were mysteries. The less everyone knew about a patron, the more important they were. The more important they were, the more dangerous they were. Even Sophia didn’t know this guy’s name, so I knew his pleasant demeanor was likely a cover.
Small victories. That's what kept me going each night. The knowledge that for the first time in years, I wasn't living moment to moment, dreading the next unexpected expense that would send me spiraling. True, something bad could still happen, but I was in a better place financially and it was all thanks to my employment atThe Gray.
I navigated toward the service bar, exchanging quick smiles with other servers rushing past with their own loaded trays. Even Mr. Wilson, perpetually scowling as he inspected each plate leaving his kitchen, nodded when I passed. I might have imagined it, but I really thought his expression softened sometimes when he looked at me. He’d left a sample of a new dessert in the break room with my lunch. "Quality control," he claimed gruffly when I thanked him.
At the main bar, I set down my tray of empties and placed the new order. While the bartender worked, I scanned the room, taking in the glittering scene. The dance floor pulsed with beautiful bodies moving in time to the beat. The minute it took the bartenders to get my orders together was the only time I got to look at the place since I had no desire to spell another month's salary. Or break any more glasses. The VIP section glowedwith amber lights. Along the walls, security personnel stood at discrete intervals.
"You're on fire tonight," said the bartender, sliding the first of my drinks across the polished surface. "The blue table asked for you specifically."
I felt a flush of pride. The blue table was a group of finance guys who tipped exceptionally well and weren't handsy like some customers. "Must be my charming personality," I joked.
"Must be," he agreed with a wink. "Or the fact that you and Sophia are the only two who remember which one is allergic to lime and I saw you first. Congrats.”
I laughed, feeling a lightness in my chest that had been missing for years. The anxiety that had followed me through most jobs had begun to fade, replaced by a steady confidence that I could handle whatever the night threw at me, despite the previous night’s fiasco. But live and learn. I loved working here even if there had been a few bumps.
Across the room, I spotted Sophia behind the second bar, her dark hair pulled back in a sleek ponytail. When she caught my eye, she grinned and gave me a discreet thumbs-up. I returned the gesture, grateful for her friendship. She'd taken me under her wing from my first day, informing me of the unwritten rules ofThe Gray, helping me navigate both the physical space and the complex social hierarchies. I'd brought her cookies this afternoon too, her favorite peanut butter chocolate chip. She'd declared them "better than sex," then amended to "better than bad sex, anyway."
With my tray newly loaded, I made my way back to deliver the drinks. As I passed the entrance to the VIP section, I caught a glimpse of dark hair and broad shoulders. Dario Luca. My pulse jumped, but I kept my eyes forward, pretending I hadn't noticed him. You know. Again. I’d managed to avoid him most of the night, though sometimes I thought I felt his gaze followingme across the room. Or maybe that was just wishful thinking. Either way, I'd been careful to keep my distance, remembering Mr. Longmire’s warning about fraternization with the owners. Especially Dario.
After delivering the drinks and delivering the first drink order from the blue table, I headed toward the service corridor that would lead me back to the kitchen to take a quick break. I figured five minutes would be good to stretch my back and re-bandage my hand. The hallway was dimly lit compared to the main floor, offering a brief respite from the sensory overload of the club. I pushed through the swinging door, letting it close behind me, muffling the music to a distant throb.
I'd taken only a few steps when a figure stepped out from a shadowed alcove, blocking my path. The woman wore a clingy gray dress that hugged every perfect curve, her honey-blonde styled perfectly, highlighting her aristocratic features. Diamonds glittered at her throat and wrists, catching the low light. Valentina Reeves in the fucking flesh.
My steps faltered as I registered her presence, my knuckles whitening around the tray I clutched to my chest. Something in her posture, in the cold assessment of her gaze, set off warning bells in my head.
