Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 102355 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 512(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102355 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 512(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
“What?” I challenge, continuing on as if I’m completely oblivious to the situation at hand. “You think I’ll break his heart?”
“You’re trying to provoke me.”
“And you’re drawing attention.”
He doesn’t move his hand. Stupid silly butterflies swarm my stomach. “Stop scowling at me and people wouldn’t be so curious about our conversation.”
I throw my head back and offer up a big fake laugh. “Ha ha ha! Cristiano, stop! You’re too funny!”
Then immediately after, I drop the act. My pointed gaze says, There, better?
He’s smiling, obviously amused. His hand finally eases on my arm, but he lets his fingers linger on my skin—igniting tendrils of heat in my low belly—before he pulls away altogether.
He glances around my section. “How many tables do you have right now?”
“Four.” I watch helplessly as three guys claim the last vacant spot in my area. I’m now officially swamped. “Make that five.”
Cristiano reads the worry on my face. “That’s too many for a new server.”
“Annika manages six or seven tables just fine.”
“Yes, but wasn’t she here last summer?”
I lift my chin defiantly. “I can handle it. I’m not your concern.”
One cynical arched brow challenges me to see the error in that statement. Right. While he’s not personally responsible for my well-being, I am his employee, and my customer service and ability to handle this crowd directly reflect on his club and, by extension, him.
Through this exchange we’ve moved closer to each other inch by inch. I don’t know what I’m hoping to gain by going toe to toe with a man as commanding as he is. I’m already craning my neck to meet his stare. If I get any closer, our chests will touch.
I shiver at the thought.
It’s just… he’s so damn good-looking. I hate him a little for it. I hate him a lot for thinking he needs to look after me.
We’re still looking at each other—warring, more like it—when one of the women I saw walking in Cristiano’s entourage earlier strolls up behind him and drapes a possessive arm over his shoulder.
Her red lips curl into a smile when she leans over to whisper in his ear. “Coming up, Cristiano, baby?”
Hearing her endearment for him makes my mood immediately sour. I take in her curvy figure and the sparkly silver minidress that sticks to every contour of her body. I can’t show even a hint of my true feelings about her, though, because Cristiano is watching me. I hope I look completely unbothered.
“I’ll be up in a bit,” he tells her, stepping to the side so her hand slides off him.
I don’t wait to see anything else. If she’s about to jut out her bottom lip and pout, I’d rather not see it. If she wants to drag him away, be my guest.
I whirl around and head in a different direction, content to cut around the tables and take the long way to get to the computers. When I can’t resist the urge to check over my shoulder, I find that Cristiano is still looking at me. I blush and immediately duck my head, eager to disappear into the thick crowd.
“Cristiano, baby,” I mutter under my breath. “Gross.”
From then, the night becomes a blur. My five tables turn into six, and then the crowd surges from every direction so that I feel like I’m serving a hundred people at once.
“Three bottles of Veuve.”
“Ten Fireball shots.”
“One whiskey sour. Two lemon drop martinis. One screwdriver. Three gin and tonics.”
Thalia’s behind the bar in my section, and she groans in annoyance when I accidentally deliver a round of drinks to table four that were supposed to go to table three. Thalia has to remake them, and I have to apologize profusely to table three, offering up shots on the house as a way to smooth things over. Still, the guys are assholes about it, huffing as if they can’t possibly wait five more minutes for their drink order.
“I’ll cover the cost,” I promise Thalia when I rush back to the bar, flushed and irritated over my mistake. “I thought I was staying on top of things, but I can barely hear myself think in this place.”
“It’s fine,” she insists. “Don’t worry about it. Shit happens, and Aura’s going to make so much money tonight, Hugo’s not going to care about a few free drinks.”
I hope she’s right. Still, the mix-up puts me in a bad mood I can’t shake. I know my service has to be perfect the rest of the night if I expect to get tips from any of these people.
On top of everything, there’s Cristiano’s presence to contend with. It takes a Herculean effort to keep my gaze from drifting up to the VIP balcony every chance I get, but I manage to avoid it for most of the night. I only indulge twice. The first time I don’t see him. The second time, he’s talking to the woman in the silver dress while she leans into him, talking animatedly. I cut my gaze away before my mood nose-dives even more.