“Stop.” His voice is commanding but calm, even as he places his hand over mine and pulls it from his shirt. The only sign of anger is the small tic in his jaw and his thinned lips. Otherwise, he looks eerily stoic about his whiskey-covered suit.
“I’m sorry,” I gush again. Tears burn at my lower lashes, threatening to spill over. Crying has always been my first response to any onslaught of emotion. He looks at me, studying my eyes, as if he’s waiting for the tears to come. Something in him shifts, and I see the annoyance that was lingering fade away.
"Stop," he repeats, just as firmly, his tone even. "Breathe."
I suck in a breath, following his order, and somehow it begins to calm me.
"Again."
And again, I inhale deeply and blow it out, my heart rate slowing. When I look up, I find him staring at me, a curious expression lingering in his steel-colored eyes.
"Good girl," he says softly, his voice still thick with dominance.
Those two words wash over me, coating my skin with a layer of warmth. Our eyes stay locked on each other, and I swear he's seeing something. It gives me the urge to check my teeth or make sure my lipstick isn't smeared. But before I can react, Candace arrives in a hurry, one of the hosts trailing behind her with a garment bag and a towel.
“Oh, Mr. Caine, my apologies.”
Caine.
The name rings an alarm bell in my head. There's a connection there. I know that name; I just can't place it.
Mr. Caine takes the towel but dismisses the garments with a wave of his hand, and the host scurries off.
“Grace.” The kindness Candace showed him disappears as she turns to me. “I’ll meet you in my office.”
I simply nod, refraining from opening my mouth out of fear of bursting into tears, and spin on my heel. I can hear Candace talking to Mr. Caine, apologizing once more.
It’s not long before she stomps into her office with a frown marking her ruby lips. Her hands slap her hips as she angles her flawless bone structure my way. “You’re fired.”
Even though I expected this, it doesn’t calm the anxiety that bubbles up in my chest.I can't lose this job.
“Please.” I’m not normally one for begging, but the word rushes from me so quickly. “Don’t fire me. It was an accident. Please, I’ll do better. Candace, I really ne?—”
She waves her hand dismissively. “I don’t care. You’re late, you’re rude, and now you spilled a drink on one of our mostprestigious customers!” she shouts, her voice raising with each recap of why I’m the worst employee. “You’re done here.”
What the fuck am I going to do?
“Don’t cry,” Candace huffs. “Just pack your things and go. I’ll have one of the girls take your tables.”
I’m focusing on making it out of her office without bursting into tears instead of watching where I’m going. I’m not even two steps out when I smack into something solid, but instead of falling on my ass, someone wraps an arm around my waist and keeps me upright.
“Sorry,” I say like a reflex.
“You seem to say that a lot.”
The deep voice surprises me, and I look up to find Mr. Caine. I’m about to apologize again, but I snap my mouth closed and take a step back, freeing myself from his grip.
“So…” His eyebrow lifts. “Did she fire you?”
I swallow the lump in my throat. Was he waiting here just to witness me at my lowest moment?
“Yes.” I avert my eyes, too embarrassed to see whatever amusement crosses his features. Rich people enjoy watching peasants like me suffer.
“That’s a shame,” he says, sounding genuine.
“What?” I look back up, brow pinched, studying his face to see if he’s fucking with me.
He steps closer, too close. I can smell him: cedar and sea salt. It invades my senses, making me dizzy. When I take a step back, there’s nowhere to go, my back pressing against the wall. His hand brackets the wall beside my hip as he takes another step and leans in close.
