“Even if I said yes, I don’t have time to teach you the ropes, Ray.”
“Then let me just mix the cocktails and you can worry about the other stuff.”
She chewed her bottom lip for a moment and just as she opened her mouth to speak, someone called out. “Zena?”
Turning away after a quick smile, her hands jumped to her hips, the rigid set of her shoulders showed her anger. “Where the hell were you, Antonio?”
He gave her an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry. The big boss called.”
“He’s here?” I picked up on the immediate tension in her voice.
Antonio shook his head. “Relax, you know he never comes here. Well, not down here that is. Who’s your friend?” He looked at me over her shoulder.
Zena half-turned. “Antonio meet Rayden. Ray, Antonio, the missing-in-action barman.” She grinned, seemingly more at ease now than a moment ago as she served another customer.
When she was done, Antonio gripped her shoulder. “Sorry to deflate your bubble, sweetheart, but I need to go. I just came down to let you know I won’t be around for the rest of the night.”
“Fuck, Tony. How—”
“Chill, girl, you give yourself far less credit than you deserve. If anyone can handle this place, you can.” He grinned.
She rolled her eyes. “Fine. Then I’m employing a pair of hands for the night.” She pointed to me.
Chuckling, Antonio shrugged. “Just listen to what she says, and you’ll be fine.” He was striding away before either one of us could reply.
“C’mon.” Zena gestured to the entrance into the bar. “I’ll give you the basics.”
Smiling, I turned around to look for Austin and the rest of the gang. Spying their gyrating bodies on the dancefloor, I made my way around to the bar entrance. They’d find me when they needed to.
Three hours later, I stood back and eyed my handiwork. Thankfully, I’d only messed up once and caught Zena’s occasional look of gratitude when the orders began flying in. My friends were impressed with my efforts and left me alone after a few quirky comments about working on my birthday. But I was enjoying myself. Not only with experimenting but working alongside Zena. I couldn’t have asked for a more perfect birthday celebration.
Despite being busy, I didn’t miss the looks she received from the other guys sitting around the bar and a pang of jealousy slithered its way down my spine. As if sensing my inner turmoil, she looked up. Green eyes, a shade darker than mine, twinkled with mirth as she offered me one of her beautiful smiles. Stupidly, I felt comforted by the gesture that she wasn’t interested in anyone else until she turned her head away and gasped. I followed her line of sight and watched as a man made his way toward the bar.
Staring at him, even I had to appreciate the way he carried himself. I’d only ever seen that level of confidence and mannerisms, as though he owned the world without effort, in one man. My father. Drake Princeton was influential, respected, and good looking, yet the approaching man, who I put at a few years younger than my father equated his grace with such ease, it made me jealous. While his face lacked a smile, his hardened features made prominent by the dark suit and black button-down, had me curious as to his identity. He had that whole mafia dude vibe about him. Taking in the two suited men flanking him, I was probably right.
His powerful presence demanded attention and without a doubt, he had the entire club’s, mine included. My gaze darted from the patrons he passed back to Zena. Her eyes stayed fixed on him with each step closer to the bar. I glanced down at my arm now firmly circled by her biting fingers. Looking up at her face, I wasn’t sure if it was fear or surprise that blanketed her features.
“Fuck,” her barely audible gasp followed with her releasing her grip on my arm.
“What’s up?” I asked.
“You’re not supposed to be here,” she hissed out the side of her mouth without taking her eyes off him.
“Huh?”
“That’s the owner and his men don’t take kindly to being put on the spot. If he asks what you’re doing here, they won’t be able to answer.”
Now I understood her anxiety. “Why don’t you call Antonio?”
She rolled her eyes and stepped away as the man took a seat at the bar. His expression unconcealed boredom, his gaze wandered over the setup.
“What can—” Zena’s words were cut off by his raised hand signaling her to be quiet.
Her body stiff, she backed away from him as his eyes conducted an unabashed inspection of her body from head to toe before coming back to her face. I could feel the tension, or was it anger, radiate off her and I was tempted to say something. Then I realized if I did so, I might get her into trouble. As if sensing my senseless inner thoughts, she darted me a quick look. Foolishly, the anxiety in her eyes had me admiring the man’s intimidation without words. I was suddenly eager to start a conversation with him. However, when Zena and I looked away, I found the man’s intense gaze on me. A second after locking gazes with him, I fought back the need to gulp. He might be someone powerful, but I aimed to show him I wasn’t daunted, even if my roiling stomach said otherwise.
