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Chapter One
Kirsten
I swipe the cloth over the counter, ignoring the little voice at the back of my head urging me to move on. The tables next to this one need cleaning too, but unlike all the other tables in this bar, this one in particular offers the perfect view to . . . him.
The bouncer who guards the door every night from eight to close, sitting alone at a high-top table near the door, always with a single glass of whiskey that he nurses the entire night. I’ve seen him every night I’ve worked here, without fail. The contrast between his casual attire and the elegant ambiance that this place carries . . . intrigues me.
Surrounded by suits, the man confidently rocks a pair of jeans and a shirt with a few buttons undone and the sleeves rolled up, exposing his tattoos. The inked designs on his chest and arms draw my attention, but it’s the aura around him that fascinates me. With each sip of his drink, he exudes an air of rebellious charm. It’s as if he doesn’t care that he’s breaking the dress code, daring anyone to say a word to him.
It’s fascinating how everyone coming through those doors, from the staff to the clientele, is forced to follow a strict dress code, but not him. Apparently, Johnny—my boss and the bar’s manager—thinks the dress code will keep everyone on their best behavior. It’s true that, for as long as I’ve worked here, there hasn’t been a single fight or disagreement, but I think that has more to do with the intimidating bouncer with the intense gaze than any dress regulations. Still, this is a high-end bar that screams sophistication from the elegant furnishings to the sleek polished wood countertops. The soft lighting casts a warm and inviting glow that is meant to leave everyone feeling at ease. Hell, one drink here easily costs what I get paid as a waitress in a night, which only makes me more curious about the man who looks every bit as out of place here as I feel.
“Don’t even think about it.”
My eyes quickly shift from the brooding man by the door back to the spotless table, avoiding eye contact with Sara, who starts wiping the table next to mine. I can feel her sharp eyes bore into the side of my head, but I don’t dare glance up, afraid she’ll read the lie in them. “I have no idea what you are talking about.”
“I bet,” she says with a chuckle. “You think I haven’t noticed how you watch him every night?” My cheeks heat up, but I don’t respond, feigning ignorance. It doesn’t last long as I find myself sneaking glances at the man in question. I watch him lift the glass of whiskey to his lips with a scowl on his face meant to keep everyone in line, and I feel the familiar pull to know more about him. I’ve only been working here for a little over a month, and I have yet to speak to him. He always leaves after the last customer. I don’t even know his name.
“Fine, who is he?” I say, finally giving in to my curiosity.
“You don’t want to know.”
“Oh c’mon, Sara, that only makes me want to know even more,” I whisper, stealing another glance at him, admiring yet again how the seams of his shirt strain against the muscles of his shoulders and biceps. “How come he gets to dress in jeans, and everyone else gets kicked out if they break the dress code?”
“Who the hell would kick someone like him out of this place? Everyone is terrified of him.”
What she is saying is true, but there is a gleam in her eyes that makes me think there is more to it than that. I lean closer to her, excitement filling my chest at the thought of finally learning something about this mysterious man. I’ve worked here for nearly a month, and I don’t even know his name. “Is he in the Mafia or something?”
“They wish.” Sara scoffs. “A man like that cannot be bound by something as restrictive as the Mafia.”
“Sara.” I groan, sneaking another glance at the man, and my face falls when I find his seat empty. I can’t believe he left. He never even takes breaks during his shift, not that I’ve seen anyway. Sure, he’ll be here again tomorrow night, but I can’t fight the disappointment that settles in.
“Listen, Kirsten,” Sara says, drawing my attention back to her. “Stay away from him. Don’t talk to him. Heck, don’t even talk about him. Just tell another server or the bartender if you need something.”
“But why?” I whine, but Sara is already walking away. With a sigh, I grab my washcloth and follow behind, my thoughts on the mysterious bouncer, and I don’t even notice the man walking my way until I’ve run smack into him. I open my lips to apologize, but my mouth runs dry when my eyes lock on the familiar green ones of my boss. A cold shiver racks my body when the man smirks, and I try for a simple smile before moving on, but he won’t get out of my way.
“Kirsten, you’ve been avoiding me,” Johnny says, and I have to bite back the urge to nod. Yes, I have been avoiding this man, but perhaps that wouldn’t be the case if he didn’t creep me out.
“That’s not true, sir—”
“I’m joking, of course.” But neither one of us is smiling. “You’ve been working here for what, a month? So, it’s understandable you don’t know how we do things around here, but we are like a family. I like getting to know my employees on a personal level, so don’t hide so much from me. I might be forced to lock us in the breakroom or something until we get along.”
His words make my stomach churn, and I can feel the burn of bile in my throat. Johnny is probably the most odious man I’ve ever had the displeasure of meeting. Every female on staff avoids him as much as possible. Even the thought of being locked in a room alone with this creep . . . It’s my worst nightmare.
“S-sir?”
“I’m joking, Kirsten.” He chuckles, but there is something off about it. “Jesus, you’re so serious. You need to loosen up if you want to keep working for me.”
I nod to placate him, ignoring the thinly veiled threat. I force a smile that doesn’t seem to faze him one bit as he chuckles again before moving out of my way. I figure that’s the end of it as I start to walk past him when I feel his hand graze my butt. I spin back around to look at him, but he’s already moved close to a table of patrons and engaged them in conversation.
I can’t help but look down, my cheeks flaming with mortification. I can feel my co-workers’ eyes on me, but I don’t dare look at any of them. This isn’t the first time this has happened. This type of harassment is the reason I left my old job. I’d hoped that things would be different working at an upscale place like this. But I was obviously wrong. If I didn’t desperately need the money, I would have left the first time he made a comment about my boobs.
I avoid making eye contact with anyone as I quickly walk past the bar and through the kitchen. I drop the cloth on the counter and run to the breakroom, fighting back tears of mortification, but there is no stopping them when I walk into the storage closet at the back of the room, closing the door behind me. I slump back against the door and fight to regain my composure, but the tears won’t stop. Am I overreacting? Maybe I am, but all I want to do is get through my shift without being harassed by my boss.
“Kirsten!” I jump when someone calls my name, but my panic eases when I realize it’s Sara.
“Sara, I’ll be out in a sec,” I call out, running the back of my hands over my wet cheeks.
There is such a long silence that I almost think she’s gone before she speaks again. “What is going on with Johnny?”
