"So you're the new toy everyone's talking about," she said, her voice smooth as expensive liquor but with a bitter aftertaste. She looked me up and down, taking in my simple black uniform with obvious disdain. "Not what I expected."
I swallowed, trying to maintain my professional composure despite the sudden dryness in my mouth. "I don't believe we've met," I said, attempting a polite smile. "I'm—"
"Blue Belle," she cut me off, making my name sound like a joke. "Yes, I know who you are. The whole club knows who you are after Dario's little display." Her perfectly manicured fingers toyed with the diamond pendant at her throat. "Tell me, what'syour secret? How did you get Dario Luca on his knees in spilled whiskey?"
Heat flooded my face. "I-I didn’t do anything," I said quietly. "It was just an accident—"
"Don't play innocent," she interrupted, stepping closer. The corridor suddenly felt too narrow and almost suffocating. Valentina’s obvious disdain seemed to lower the temperature a few degrees. "I've seen how you look at Dario."
My cheeks burned hotter. "I don't look at Mr. Luca in any special way," I protested, hearing the defensive note in my voice. "He's the boss. That's all."
Her laugh was like breaking glass. "The boss. Of course." She moved closer still, forcing me to take a step back. "Let me give you some free advice, little Belle. Men like Dario don't notice girls like you unless they want something. And once they've taken it, they will throw you away like yesterday’s garbage."
I clutched my tray tighter, unable to think of a response. Part of me wanted to push past her, to escape this unexpected confrontation, but another part felt frozen in place, pinned by her accusing stare.
"I—I should get back to work," I finally managed, my voice smaller than I intended.
"You really have no idea what you're getting into, do you?" Valentina tilted her head, studying me with something between pity and contempt. "How adorably naive."
I tried to side-step around her, but the corridor was too narrow, and she subtly shifted to block my path. The overpowering scent of her perfume seemed to saturate the air around me making it difficult to breathe. "Excuse me," I said more firmly, finding a sliver of courage. "I need to pass."
Valentina smiled, the expression never reaching her eyes. "We're not finished yet," she said softly. "Not by a long shot."
Valentina stepped forward suddenly, forcing me back until my shoulders hit the wall. My tray pressed uncomfortably between us, a flimsy barrier that did nothing to block the cold fury radiating from her. This close, I could see the perfect application of her makeup, the flawless blend of her eyeshadow, the precise line of her lipstick. Even her anger looked expensive, carefully cultivated and deployed with precision. If this was the kind of woman Dario went for, I was definitely letting everyone’s interest cloud my judgement. I was the complete opposite of this woman.
"Listen carefully, Blue Belle," Valentina said, leaning closer until I could smell the faint scent of vodka on her breath, expensive and clean but with a bitter edge. "You need to understand something very important. Dario belongs to me." The possessiveness in her voice made me flinch. "We have history you couldn't possibly understand."
"I don't want—" I started, but she pressed the tray harder against my chest, cutting off my words.
"What you want is irrelevant," she said, her voice dropping to a near whisper that somehow seemed louder than the music around us. "Dario and I have been together for years. Do you think you're the first pretty little thing he's shown interest in?" Her laugh was brittle, sharp enough to cut. "You're not special, Belle. You're a distraction. A temporary amusement."
I tried to shift sideways, to find some escape route from this confrontation, but Valentina moved with me, her body blocking mine with practiced ease. "I don't know what you think is happening," I said, working to keep my voice steady, "but there's nothing between Mr. Luca and me. He helped me when I was hurt, that's all."
"Oh, sweet girl." Valentina shook her head, her expression a mockery of sympathy. "Do you really believe Dario Luca helps anyone out of the goodness of his heart?" She leaned closer, herbreath warm against my ear. "Dario never helps anyone without demanding payment. Every kindness comes with a price tag."
My breath caught in my throat. Something in her tone, in the absolute certainty with which she spoke, sent a chill down my spine. I thought about the night of the whiskey spill, how Dario had knelt beside me, how gentle his hands had been on my injured palm. Had there been calculation in that moment that I'd been too naive to see?
Valentina's eyes flicked down to my hand, to the spot where the cuts were bandaged. "And trust me," she continued, "his price will be more than you can afford." Her words dripped with a knowledge that made my skin crawl, secrets about Dario that I wasn't privy to, truths I couldn't guess at.
I gripped my tray tighter, my fingertips pressing hard enough to leave marks on my palms. The small cuts on my palm stung but I couldn’t seem to loosen my grip. The ghost of Dario's touch seemed to linger on my skin, both comforting and unsettling in light of Valentina's warnings.
"When he's done with you — and he will be done with you sooner than you realize — he'll come back to me," Valentina said, absolute certainty in her voice. "He always does. We understand each other in ways you never could." She reached up, her fingertips hovering near my cheek without quite touching, a mockery of a caress. "You're a passing fancy. A novelty. Do you know how quickly novelties wear off in Dario's world?"
Movement at the end of the corridor caught my attention. A bartender appeared, his arms full of fresh bar towels. He glanced our way, taking in the scene. I could imagine what it looked like. Valentina pressing me against the wall, my wide eyes, the tray clutched to my chest like a shield, all made for cute little drama. For a moment, I thought he might intervene. Our eyes met briefly, and I tried to telegraph my distress without words. But something in his expression shifted, a calculation visible evenfrom this distance. He quickly averted his gaze and hurried past us, the service door swinging shut behind him with a soft thud.
The message was clear. No one would interfere with Valentina Reeves when she was on the warpath. Whatever power Dario wielded atThe Gray, Valentina clearly commanded her own brand of fear and respect. Which proved her point. Dario always came back to her. Likely the reason she wielded power here.
My fingers trembled against the tray. For the first time since starting atThe Gray, I felt truly out of my depth. This wasn't just a luxurious club where I served drinks and collected generous tips. There were currents moving beneath the surface that I couldn't see or understand, connections that extended far beyond these walls.
"You think you know him because he showed you a moment of kindness," Valentina continued, reading the doubt on my face with frightening accuracy. "You know nothing about Dario Luca. Nothing about who he really is, what he's capable of, or what he requires from the people in his life." Her voice dropped lower, became almost intimate. "You think those little cookies you baked could possibly satisfy a man like him? Dario devours people whole, Belle. He consumes them and moves on, leaving nothing but scraps behind."
I swallowed hard, trying to push down the knot of fear in my throat. How did she know about my baking? Had she been watching me that closely? The thought made me feel exposed, vulnerable in ways I hadn't anticipated.
"I just want to do my job," I whispered, hating how small my voice sounded in the narrow space between us. "That's all I'm here for."
"Is it?" Valentina challenged, her eyes searching mine. "Then why do you watch him when you think no one is looking? Why does your breath catch when he enters a room?"
Oh God! Had I been so obvious? I thought I'd hidden my inexplicable attraction to Dario, buried it beneath professionalism and the desperate need to keep this job. But apparently, I'd been transparent, readable not just to Valentina but perhaps to everyone atThe Gray.
