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)
I shot him a cold look. "The Rossi situation. Vincent's making moves we need to address."
"Bullshit," Vittorio replied with a small smile. "You haven't heard a word I've said about the shipment issue for the past fifteen minutes. Your mind is elsewhere." He leaned forward, lowering his voice. "With a certain clumsy waitress, perhaps?"
"Don't start," I warned, but my brother merely raised an eyebrow.
"Interesting reaction from a man who typically disposes of incompetent staff without a second thought." Vittorio took a measured sip of his drink. "Yet you knelt in spilled whisky worth more than she makes in a month to help her."
I remained silent. What could I say? That something about her vulnerability had pierced through my carefully constructed armor? That the fear in her eyes had bothered me in ways I couldn't explain? That the electric current I felt when our skin touched was unlike anything I'd experienced before?
"She was terrified," I said finally, keeping my voice neutral. "Firing her would have been... excessive."
"Excessive," Vittorio repeated with amusement. "Since when has Dario Luca concerned himself with moderation when it comes to maintaining standards at The Gray?" I really had nothing to say to that statement. "Go check on the new waitress.” The smile on his face made me want to scratch his eyeballs out. "Make sure she doesn't sue or anything. Those cuts looked nasty."
“You’re an ass, Vittorio.” His laughter followed me as I rose from my chair, straightening my suit jacket with more force than necessary.
"Where are you going?" he called after me.
"To handle something," I replied without turning. I heard him chuckle again before the heavy door closed behind me, muffling the sound.
My jaw tightened as I strode through the main floor of The Gray. The truth was, I had been thinking about checking on Belle. The look of defeat in her eyes as she backed away from the scene had stayed with me, nagging at my conscience in a way I found both irritating and impossible to ignore. But Vittorio's teasing had nearly made me reconsider. Nearly. And, Goddamnit, I should have seen to her injuries myself. I ground my teeth. Pride. This was all about pride. I’d never wanted to take a woman for myself and now I was too stubborn to admit I might have been wrong.
No. I wasn’t there yet.
I nodded to the security personnel stationed discreetly throughout the club. The main floor was a different world from the one I was headed toward. Here, everything gleamed with expensive authenticity. The lighting was designed to flatter, the acoustics engineered to allow conversation while maintaining privacy. Wealthy patrons sprawled in plush booths, indolent and at ease, or lingered by the bar, movements languid, their every gesture weighted with privilege. The air hummed with rich laughter. The space enveloped them in luxury that most took for granted but that had been meticulously created to project power and exclusivity.
I reached the nondescript door that separated this glittering fantasy from the utilitarian reality of running such an operation. My fingerprint granted me access, and I stepped into a different world.
The stark fluorescent lighting of the service corridor was a jarring transition from the amber glow of the club. Here, the walls were a practical off-white, the floors designed for comfort for the staff and durability. The air smelled of the food they were preparing in the kitchen rather than expensive perfumes and aged spirits.
A staff member carrying a stack of clean bar towels froze when she saw me, her eyes widening in surprise. "Mr. Luca," she stammered, pressing herself against the wall to let me pass.
I nodded in acknowledgment but didn't slow my pace. Behind me, I heard her rushed footsteps retreat in the opposite direction, no doubt to spread word of my unexpected appearance in the staff area.
The effect was immediate. As I moved deeper into the employee section, conversations halted mid-sentence. A group of bartenders gathering near the stockroom scattered like startled birds, their laughter cutting off abruptly. Two security guards straightened their postures, their expressions shifting from relaxed to professional in an instant.
"Sir," one greeted me with a respectful nod.
I lifted my chin but said nothing as I continued past them, aware of the whispers that followed in my wake. My presence here was unusual enough to cause a stir. I rarely ventured into the staff areas unless there was a problem to address. The fact that I was here now, minutes after the incident with Belle, would certainly feed the rumor mill for weeks. Especially since I had no intention of firing her.
The thought irritated me, but not enough to turn back. I approached the employee break room, slowing my steps as I neared the door. Through the small window, I caught a glimpse of auburn hair. Belle sat alone at a small table, examining her palm. Even from here, I could see the tension in her shoulders, the careful way she held herself, as if trying to take up as little space as possible.