She swallows hard, but there’s fire still in her eyes. “Yes, sir.”
That damn defiance twists something inside me. I shove a hand through my hair, exhaling sharply. “Go help behind the bar.”
She nods once and walks away without looking back. I watch her go, her head high, pretending she’s not breaking. I follow a second later, grabbing my half-drunk bottle from earlier, off the bar, then find an empty couch and drop down.
A shadow moves beside me.Sasha.She’s all gloss and perfume, sliding in close. “Still having a bad day?” she purrs.
I take a long drink. “Something like that.”
Her hand settles lightly on my knee. “Offer still stands, if you need to take your mind off things.”
I sigh, the sound rough. “Drink with me?” I hold the bottle out.
She grins, taking a pull straight from it. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you drunk,” she teases.
“Yeah,” I mutter. “It ain’t pretty.”
“Are you drinking to forget?” she asks, tilting her head towards the bar.
I follow her gaze. Remi’s there, shoulders stiff, pretending she doesn’t feel my eyes on her.
My jaw tightens. The ache in my chest flares into something meaner, something easier to manage. I rest a hand on the back of the couch, my thumb brushing the bare skin of Sasha’s shoulder. It’s calculated, deliberate.
Then Remi looks over. Our eyes lock, hers wide, hurt, questioning. And before I can stop myself, I lean in and kiss Sasha.
It’s soft at first, an act, then harder, hungrier, cruel. A punishment neither of them deserves.
Sasha makes a pleased sound, her fingers curling into my shirt, but I barely feel it. All I see is the look on Remi’s face as she turns away, her smile slipping before she disappears out back.
Sasha pulls back first, smiling, lips still wet from the kiss. I keep my eyes closed for a second too long, hoping the dark will smother the guilt that’s already clawing up my chest.
“Guess you needed that,” Sasha says lightly.
“Yeah,” I mutter.
She stretches, preening a little before wandering off, pleased with herself. I stare after her for a heartbeat then turn back towards the bar, and there she is. Back behind the counter, with her sleeves rolled up and her hair twisted into a loose knot at her neck. Her shoulders are squared, chin high, a small, dangerous smile playing on her lips. The nervous girl from before is gone. This one looks like she’s decided she won’t let the world touch her again.
She laughs at something one of the prospects says, the sound light and careless. When she leans forward to grab a bottle, her posture is all deliberate challenge, open, confident, untouchable. A few men at that bar turn towards her like she’s gravity.
My jaw locks. She’s putting on a show.For me.
I take a long pull from the whiskey, pretending not to notice.
Then the door swings open, and Ragnor strolls in, loud, grinning, and right on time to fuck with my head, like this was planned. She senses it too, a smirk pulling at her mouth.
The second his eyes land on her, he whistles low. “Well, if it isn’t my favourite barmaid.”
She blushes. “Hey, Ragnor.”
He leans against the bar, easy and confident. “You’ve lost your shadow,” he says, laughing at his own joke.
She laughs too, bright and dangerous, and I can tell by his body language he’s delighted that she’s giving him the time of day.
“Oh that? It’s done,” she says, shrugging.
He leans closer, unaware I’m watching the entre interaction. “Interesting.”
She smirks, “Is it?”
