I closed my eyes and repeated those words in my head.
Good. Hold onto that. Chloe Bennett was never the type to fall apart over a man. He left. Life goes on.
The good news—Enzo's orders still carried some weight. Nobody forced me to do those explicit dances. I stayed behind the bar.
The bad news—bartending came with its own shit show.
Late-night drunks always had extra enthusiasm for pretty female bartenders. Some guy ordering drinks would lay his hand over mine, fingers dragging slow before pulling back.
Another scanned me head to toe, groping my waist when I bent for a bottle. One asshole straight-up dropped a stack of bills on the bar asking what time I got off.
When Enzo was around, nobody dared try this stuff. His presence alone was a force field. Everyone knew what touching his woman meant.
But now he was gone. The force field disappeared. Those grimy hands crept back out. Drew wasn't as rotten as Silvio, but he didn't give a damn either. As long as nobody got violent, he wouldn't intervene.
I could handle it. Compared to the scumbags I'd dealt with before, these drunk pervs were nothing. I learned to yank my hand back fast,learned to keep my spine straight when reaching for bottles so nobody got an angle.
I'd be fine. I'd survived everything else. Not seeing Enzo wasn't that big a problem.
Soon enough, another Enzo-less day ended. I clocked out and headed for the club's back exit.
Since Drew took over, management finally loosened up. Using the insane sales numbers from Enzo's time, I'd gotten approved for early shifts and permission to rent outside.
So I'd rented a tiny basement apartment near the club. Almost identical to my first place when I came to New York.
Late autumn nights in New York already ran cold. Wind funneled down the alley, making me shiver. I zipped my jacket all the way up and kept my head down, walking toward my rental.
"Chloe."
Liam stepped out from beside the wall by the back door. He wore a khaki jacket, hands shoved in his pockets, nose red from cold. No idea how long he'd been waiting.
"Liam? What are you doing here? Didn't you get off half an hour before me?" I smiled at him. We rarely got chances to talk alone lately—because of Enzo, I'd been avoiding one-on-one time with Liam.
"I was waiting for you." He said it staring at the ground, voice tight, like he'd rehearsed those words a hundred times. "That asshole in the leather jacket yesterday—the one who kept hassling you at the bar—I heard he's been hanging around this alley every night. I didn't want you walking alone."
I looked at Liam. Autumn wind whipped his brown hair into chaos. He wiped his nose with the back of his hand, clumsy in a heartbreaking way. His lips were going purple from the cold, but he stood there stamping his feet for circulation, showing zero intention of leaving.
This man had stood in sub-fifty-degree wind for at least half an hour waiting for me.
"You don't have to do this, Liam. I'm fine."
"I know you're fine." He rubbed his hands together, breath foggingwhite. "But I wanted to walk you home. And I need to tell you something."
My heart sank.
Liam's nervous expression, his dodging eyes, plus the fact he'd waited in freezing wind for God knows how long—even I could read those signals.
Liam had feelings for me.
Not exactly breaking news. When Silvio went after me, plenty felt sorry—but only Liam stepped up. That alone was strange. He wasn't a bad guy, but people who lasted here didn't stick their necks out.
I suspected these feelings might go back to high school. He just never said anything then.
Well, I'd have to face this eventually.
"Okay. Let's walk." I nodded.
We walked side by side through the late-night streets. Streetlights stretched our shadows long, overlapping.
