"I don't—" I started, but the lie died on my lips. What was the point of denying it when she'd clearly seen the truth written across my face?
Valentina's expression hardened, any pretense of politeness vanishing. "You need to understand your place in this world, little mouse. You're staff. Disposable. Replaceable." Her nail tapped against the tray, the sound sharp and final. "Dario might be amused by you for now, but men like him don't change. Not for anyone, and certainly not for some waitress who can’t deliver drinks without spilling them and has a hunger for a man she thinks can save her from a life of living paycheck to paycheck. Even if you manage to crawl into his bed, you’ll never get his money. Dario doesn’t need prostitutes."
The truth of her words cut deeper than I wanted to admit. Who was I to think someone like Dario Luca would see me as anything more than temporary entertainment? I was a nobody from nowhere, barely keeping my head above water, while he commanded an empire built on wealth and power I couldn't begin to comprehend. Of course it would look like I was gold digging!
"Do we understand each other?" Valentina asked, her voice silky with triumph as she read the defeat in my eyes.
I gathered the last shreds of my courage and pushed forward suddenly, breaking Valentina's invisible hold. "Excuse me," I said again, my voice stronger this time as I slid sideways along the wall, creating enough space to slip past her. My heart hammered against my ribs, adrenaline making my movements jerky as I put distance between us. I expected her to grab me, tocontinue her verbal assault, but she merely turned, watching me retreat with cool amusement.
"You're out of your depth, little mouse," she called after me, her voice bouncing off the narrow corridor walls. "Ask around about what happened to the last waitress who caught his eye."
I froze mid-step, a chill racing up my spine. The last waitress? What did that mean? I half-turned, curiosity warring with self-preservation. Valentina stood where I'd left her, a satisfied smile playing at the corners of her perfectly painted lips. She knew she'd hooked me with that parting shot, knew I was balanced on the knife-edge of asking for more.
The smart move would be to walk away, to ignore her baiting comment and continue with my shift as if nothing had happened. But the implication hung in the air between us, heavy with unspoken threat. What had happened to this other waitress? And was I headed down the same path?
My curiosity lost out to fear. I turned away without asking and continued down the corridor, my steps quickening until I was nearly running. I could feel Valentina's gaze drilling into my back until I rounded the corner and escaped her line of sight.
The staff room door stood ajar, spilling fluorescent light into the dimmer hallway. I slipped inside, grateful to find the room momentarily empty. My tray clattered loudly as I set it down on the counter, my hands shaking too badly to control the noise. I leaned against the edge of the sink, trying to steady my breathing, trying to process what had just happened.
Valentina's words echoed in my head. Each phrase felt like a needle, pricking at the bubble of security I'd built around myself these past weeks. Was there truth in her warnings, or was this just the jealous attack of a possessive ex who couldn't let go?
I turned on the cold water, wetting a paper towel to pat my face carefully to avoid ruining my makeup while giving some comfort to my heated skin. When I looked up, catching myreflection in the small mirror above the sink, I barely recognized myself. My cheeks were flushed with emotion, my eyes too wide, too bright. I looked haunted, hunted. I pressed my palms against my cheeks, trying to cool the heat there, trying to compose myself before I had to return to the floor.
Valentina was right. I was out of my depth. This world of wealth and power, of unspoken rules, it wasn't mine. I was just passing through, collecting paychecks and tips, trying to build something stable for myself. Getting caught up in whatever game Dario and Valentina were playing would only end in disaster. For me, not them.
The door swung open behind me, and I quickly straightened. Ricky, one of the newer servers, stepped inside, his arms full of clean glassware. He stopped when he saw me, his eyebrows drawing together in concern. "Belle? You okay?" he asked, setting down his load on a nearby shelf.
I forced a smile, aware it didn't reach my eyes. "Fine," I lied, reaching for a paper towel to dry my hands. "Just needed a minute."
Ricky studied my face, clearly not believing me. We'd formed a tentative friendship over the past weeks, bonding over being new in a place that felt like it had a million unwritten rules. He'd shown me which shortcuts to take between sections, which bartenders made the strongest drinks, which security guards were more likely to help with rowdy customers.
"You don't look fine," he said bluntly. "Was it a customer? Did someone get handsy? I can tell Wilson—"
"No, nothing like that," I assured him quickly. "Just... it's been a long night." I busied myself with arranging clean glasses on my tray, avoiding his concerned gaze.
Ricky stepped closer, lowering his voice. "Was it Valentina? I saw her heading toward the service corridor earlier, looking like she was on a mission."
My hands stilled on the glassware. "You know her?"
He snorted softly. "Everyone knows her. She's here at least twice a week, always watching Dario like she's waiting for him to mess up." He hesitated, then added, "She cornered one of the bartenders last month, asking all kinds of questions about who Dario talks to, who he spends time with."
"Why does she care? They're not together anymore, right?" The question slipped out before I could stop myself.
Ricky shrugged, but there was something guarded in his expression. "That's the official story. But with people like them..." He trailed off, then added cryptically, "Just watch yourself, Belle. I don’t think the owner's social circle is a safe place for people like us."
Another warning. First Mr. Longmire, then Valentina, now Ricky. All telling me the same thing in different ways. Stay away from Dario Luca.
"I need to get back to the floor," I said, picking up my freshly loaded tray. "The drinks for my new table are probably ready." I gave my usual cheerful smile.
Ricky smiled back, though his concerned expression didn't fade. "Just... be careful, okay?"
I nodded, forcing another smile. “Trust me. I have no desire to be part of any of that. I’m also not trying to get the boss’s attention.” I deliberately generalized Dario, hoping to make my point more believable.
I pushed through the door and headed back toward the main floor. The music enveloped me as I emerged from the service area, the familiar buzz of conversation and laughter washing over me even as I was still reeling from the unexpected encounters. If I were honest, Ricky’s concerns were more troubling than Valentina’s threats.
I delivered drinks to the blue table on autopilot, my smile professional but distant as I moved through my duties. Theweight of Valentina's warning followed me like a shadow, casting doubt over every interaction, every memory of my time atThe Gray. Had I misread everything? Had I seen kindness where there was only calculation, interest where there was only amusement? And what could he possibly want from me?
The rational part of me knew I should listen to the warnings, should keep my head down, do my job, and stay far away from anything to do with Dario Luca. But another part, a part I wasn't proud of, couldn't let go of the memory of his touch, of the intensity in his blue eyes when they'd held mine, of the gentleness in his hands as he'd tended my wounds.
