Because I have eyes for only one woman. Thinking of said woman, where is she? I look around, ignoring the man beside me talking, and I find her. She is behind the bar, far away from guests, and she looks like a deer caught in the headlights.
The culprit is the bitch Selma, and I have never wanted to kill a woman that badly. When I kill a woman, I mostly poison them, but for this one, I will make an exception. I watch for a couple more minutes, and the moment Lana runs to fucking who knows where, I get up.
To avoid raising any suspicions, I don’t run. I walk like anyone else.
“Adi, can I ask you a quick question?” I hear someone use my fake name behind my back. I turn around and see the bride standing there. Fuck, let’s make this quick.
“We are going to one of your hotels in France, and I want to make our honeymoon extra special.” She clasps her hands and looks at me with a doe-eyed look.
“Can someone in your hotel arrange for fireworks for when we arrive, with a saxophone band playing? My beloved is obsessed with saxophones!” If her enthusiasm wasn’t this adorable, I would have ignored her.
“Of course. I’ll call my general manager there and have it arranged. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”
“Ah! Thank you! This is so cool, thank you!” She shrieks as she skips her way over to her friends, probably to tell them about her grand idea. When I turn around to look at the bar, Lana has returned and is finishing making a drink.
I walk up to the bar and grab her hand, which makes her look up at me.
“What the fuck just happened?” She wants to retrieve her hand, but I hold it firmly.
“Nothing.” I’m keeping my face stoic because I need her to understand how serious I am.
“Lana, you can’t keep working like this. Quit.”
“Excuse me?” Those words have probably been uttered by her too many times.
“You. Can’t. Keep. Working. Like. This.” I'm enunciating every word, but nothing is coming through to her.
“You can’t tell me what to do, M. I need this job.”
“Very funny of you to think that I can’t do that.”
“Do you see me laughing?”
“Do you see me stuttering?” I shoot right back at her. She retrieves her hand and takes the tray of drinks.
“I won’t make a scene, because you clearly need this job. But,” I sigh deeply, “if you don’t stand up for yourself, I’m going to fucking punish you. And I won’t be gentle about it.” She nods and grips the tray like her life depends on it.
A low rumble comes from my chest, and I nod my head while grinning.
Fine, little hummingbird.
She saunters off to my table and serves the bitch Selma and other attendees of the wedding. When I see her returning to the bar, I look at her and lick my lips.
“I have a few minutes to spare. What do you want?” she asks as she sets down her tray. The moment that fucking piece of plastic hits the wooden bar, I go behind the bar and grab her by the hand and make her follow me to the maintenance room, where it all began.
I push her inside and lock the door behind us.
We are standing in a maintenance room with a couple of buckets on the floor and a table against the back wall. My fists are curled up by my sides, and her arms are crossed.
“You have two choices: scream or don’t.”
“To what?”
“To me fucking your absolute brains out.” My tone is flat, but my body language is betraying me. My jaw tics, my breathing is quiet but thick, and my words are clipped. The maintenance room is small, and the air is dense, with the faint hum of a single light bulb hanging above her. And the only steady thing in the room is her.
“And what if I don’t want that?” She is cute when she’s joking. My fingers move toward my belt, and I unbuckle it. The leather strap suddenly feels like it’s melting into my hand. Lana senses something is up, but I see that she can’t quite put her finger on it.
“This belt will be wrapped around your pretty neck, and you won’t be able to stop me.” She freezes, pupils expanding as if she’s just remembered to breathe.
