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)
“I started a few weeks ago.” I point to the empty champagne bottle to try to get us back on track. “Did you want me to get you another bottle, or would you like something else?”
The question is professional enough, but the guy’s smirk twists in a way that clues me in to where his thoughts have led.
“Something else, I think.” His eyes roam down my body with obvious interest. It’s the first time I’ve missed my old corporate uniform. I’d love a starched blazer right about now. “What’s your favorite drink here?”
“I like the pineapple sunrise, and Ethan makes them perfectly,” I say with a firm tone and a tight smile.
“What’s in it?”
It feels like a test, and I’m glad I have the drink menu memorized by now. I list all the ingredients—tequila, a blend of fresh orange juice and pineapple juice, and a touch of grenadine—but once I’m done, he shakes his head.
“Not really my speed. What else do you like?”
A few people in the group chuckle, and I’m having a hard time not looking at Cristiano. Surely by now he’s caught on to the situation. I swallow and try to keep my cool.
“What about an old-fashioned or a sparkling sangría?” I suggest helpfully.
“What about you?”
The question is more playful than licentious, but it still takes me aback. My spine stiffens, my lips part, and I’m about to respond to him in a way I’ll likely come to regret, but I never get the chance.
“Basta ya.”
The harsh command cuts across the group, and for the first time since I arrived at the table, my attention snaps to Cristiano. He’s staring at Juan Carlos like he wants to drag him out of here by the scruff of his neck. His eyes are harsh and unyielding, and his jaw is set with annoyance.
“C’mon, cuz, I was teasing her,” Juan Carlos says lightly.
“My employees aren’t here for your amusement.”
Juan Carlos laughs and holds up his hands in innocence, rattling off something in Spanish. Cristiano doesn’t respond, though his cunning gaze never wavers from Juan Carlos, the man I now realize is his cousin.
Juan Carlos loses whatever standoff is taking place and looks up at me as he clears his throat. The tips of his ears are pink with embarrassment. “Sorry. I forgot my manners. Another bottle of champagne is fine.”
I nod and eagerly flee, happy to put distance between me and the group as they all start talking at once, no doubt eager to discuss what just happened. I force a deep breath, trying to settle my nerves, but I should have realized Cristiano wouldn’t leave well enough alone. I feel his forbidding presence behind me while I’m tapping Juan Carlos’s order into the computer system near the bar. I don’t bother turning around when I address him.
“Nice friends you have…”
He clears his throat, likely frustrated I haven’t turned around yet. “Juan Carlos is young and can be an idiot sometimes. I apologize.”
“I wasn’t talking about him,” I respond coolly.
Once I’ve submitted the order, I steel myself and turn around. Cristiano is dressed more formally than usual in a white button-down with the sleeves rolled up and tailored black slacks. All he needs are a gold crown and a royal scepter. Every inch of him emanates innate authority, and it’s incredibly difficult to be this close to him. It’s futile to hold out hope that he will ever be easier to handle. His looks will never dull. His presence will never be anything less than extremely intimidating. After watching how he dealt with things at the table and the situation the other night with the DJ, it’s clear he’s exacting and bossy, used to being in charge at work and among his friends. Juan Carlos immediately backed down when Cristiano spoke up for me.
I know all this and yet I can’t seem to exercise caution.
“What’s her name?” I ask, trying to sound casual.
He frowns, not following my question. “Who?”
“The woman in the red dress.”
He has to look back at the table to see who I’m referring to. He nods and turns back. “Daniella.”
I listen carefully to her name, trying to pick apart any traces of longing in his voice. I don’t think I hear any. Still, I can’t help but wonder. “How long have you two been dating?”
The question is apparently funny because the corner of his mouth lifts in a lazy grin. “We aren’t dating.”
I hmm like I find his reply only mildly interesting. Then I step over to the bar and wait for Ethan to hand me the champagne. I’m not surprised Cristiano follows. He’s not done with this cat-and-mouse game. In whatever ways he intrigues me, I intrigue him, and if I think too hard about that fact, I’ll do something rash.
Ethan’s quick behind the bar. He passes me a cold bottle of Dom iced down in a silver bucket while gifting Cristiano a deferential nod, then he’s on to the next task. I take the bucket, turn, and push it against Cristiano’s chest. My smirk is the cherry on top.