Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 65987 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 330(@200wpm)___ 264(@250wpm)___ 220(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65987 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 330(@200wpm)___ 264(@250wpm)___ 220(@300wpm)
"Who uses these?" I asked before I could stop myself.
Mr. Longmire’s expression didn't change. "People who value discretion and can afford it. You won’t be up here, but you need to be familiar with the surroundings. Above all," he said, stopping to look down at me, pinning me with his gaze, “nothing heard inside The Gray leaves the room where you heard it. Do you understand?” The way he emphasized the last point made me wonder what kinds of conversations happened in those rooms. Also, I was acutely aware that curiosity killed the cat.
We descended back to the main floor and approached the bar. The area was a masterpiece of backlit onyx and glass that ran along one wall. Behind it stood shelves of bottles that gleamed like jewels under carefully positioned spotlights. I recognized some labels that I'd only ever seen in magazines or behind locked cases in liquor stores. Stuff I couldn’t pronounce and would never, ever get to taste.
"You'll be trained on signature cocktails tomorrow," Marcus said. "You touch nothing until you’re given permission."
I nodded, already mentally cataloging the contents around me. This was what I was good at. Creating drinks that complemented people's tastes, finding that perfect balance of flavors, was a talent I’d developed over one summer at a beach bar when I first turned twenty-one. Even in this intimidating space, the basic tools of the craft were universal and familiar.
As we continued our tour, I became aware of the security presence throughout the club. Men and women positioned strategically, dressed well enough to blend with clientele but with the alert posture that marked them as security. One nodded subtly to Marcus as we passed.
"I mentioned that nothing you hear leaves the room it came from. The Gray sells discretion as much as alcohol. You don’t talk about so much as a client’s drink preference. This is absolute, Miss Belle. Grounds for automatic termination." For some reason, the way he said termination set off alarm bells. I could almost hear the snappy one liners and movie references, but that wasn’t what bothered me. There was something in the tone of Mr. Longmire’s voice that told me I needed to really watch my fucking mouth.
I nodded seriously, swallowing nervously. “Yes, sir.”
We completed our circuit of the main floor, ending back at the elevator. Marcus stopped and turned to face me directly, his expression somehow even more serious than before.
"There's one last rule," he said, his voice lower now. "The most important one." He paused, making sure he had my full attention. "None of the Luca brothers are available to our employees. For any reason. Especially not Dario."
The intensity in his eyes made my skin prickle. "Available?" I repeated, not entirely understanding.
"Not for conversation beyond service requirements. Not for personal connections. Not for anything." His words were measured, deliberate. "They're your employers. Not your friends, not your acquaintances, and certainly not your lovers. Some staff have forgotten that distinction. They no longer work here."
I frowned slightly, confused by the warning. Was this standard for all new employees, or was it because of my literal run-in with Dario earlier? Either way, the implication was clear.
"I understand," I said, though I wasn't sure I did. Not fully.
Marcus studied my face for a moment, as if assessing my sincerity. Then he nodded once, apparently satisfied.
"Your training starts now. Shadow Elise behind the main bar. Don't speak unless spoken to. Watch. Learn." He turned away, then paused. "And Belle?"
It was the first time he'd used my name. "Yes?"
"The Luca family built this place. They see everything that happens here. Remember that one immutable fact and you’ll do fine." With that cryptic statement, he walked away, leaving me standing alone on the edge of the most glamorous space I'd ever worked in, wondering what exactly I'd gotten myself into.
Chapter Two
Dario
I stood at the panoramic window of my private office, fingers splayed against the cool glass as I replayed my collision with the redhead downstairs. Blue Belle. But everyone calls her Belle. Ridiculous.
My reflection on the window showed a man in perfect control but my pulse betrayed me, still beating faster than it should. Ten minutes had passed. Ten full minutes since a pair of startled green eyes had looked up at me with such naked vulnerability that something in my chest had shifted.
The Gray sprawled beneath me, my kingdom of discretion and excess. From this height, I could see everything. The staff preparing for tonight's opening, the gleam of the bar where bottles worth more than some people's monthly salaries stood in perfect formation, the dance floor where bodies would grind together and inhibitions lowered. Once the alcohol started flowing, secrets and deals would be traded like currency. I'd built this empire methodically, brick by calculated brick, never allowing impulse to guide my hand.