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Robert knew how I felt about this club, and he knew I wanted it when he was ready to retire. I’d poured my literal blood, sweat, and tears into this place. And still he never gave me the fucking chance.
Was it because I was just a bartender and made the majority of my money from tips? That I didn’t have the financial backing of most investors? Or was it because I had no problem showing a little skin in my professional environment, especially to help drive more energy into the machine that was this club? We all knew it attracted more patrons, and more patrons meant more money—for me and certainly for Robert. He’d never had a problem with my professionalism before . . . but could that be why he overlooked me for this?
Fuck that.
My gaze moved up to meet his as I spoke again, my words laced with an anger I didn’t care to hold back. “What else?”
Confusion marred his brow. “What do you mean?”
“You said you ensured a few contingencies, but you only named one—me. What else?”
“Oh.” He sat up straighter again, his eyes roaming the bar’s surface in front of us. “Well, Larkspur will remain a nightclub. Nothing will change in that regard. Staff will stay on payroll for at least a two-year term unless any individual issues arise that would otherwise interfere with their employment contract. I kept everyone protected to the best of my ability, I promise you. Nobody’s roles will change unless the change is mutually agreed upon.”
My heart pounded in my throat, even though there was an undeniable relief in knowing no one would lose their job because of this. Robert pulled a handkerchief from his pants pocket and blotted it against his forehead. “Look, Mara, he’s a good buyer. I trust he’ll be exactly what Larkspur needs to keep momentum going. He’ll be what you need, if you let him.”
I had to swallow down another scoff before it burst out of me, brushing my hair behind my shoulder as I fought the fresh burn of tears. “What makes you think I need anything, Robert? You haven’t even been here. I sent you detailed reports every week . . . you know how well things are going. Why didn’t you come to me first? Why didn’t you give me the chance?”
Robert’s eyes dropped to my neck, and a hint of amusement danced in his otherwise-serious expression before he wiped it away. My hand instinctively reached up to feel for something amiss, but all I felt was clammy skin. He cleared his throat, looked at me with sincerity. “You could benefit from a little more experience, Mara.”
And that was it. That was all he had to say.
I stared at him for a long moment before I heard a door shut somewhere in the back—someone else had come in through the unlocked door. I sat up and turned to face the doorway that led to the stockroom.
Robert shuffled in his stool next to me and I heard him gulp down his whiskey. I snapped my gaze back to him as dread pooled in my belly. “Who’s that?”
His eyes flashed toward the door. “That,” he responded in a careful tone, “is the new owner. I invited him here as well . . . to introduce you.”
My head spun at a dizzying pace, and I had to shift in my seat so I didn’t fall off the stool. My limbs were heavy with the weight of disappointment and frustration. I felt . . . trapped. Forced into this interaction I had no interest in being a part of. Whoever this man was, I already wanted to make him disappear forever. This was my bar, my nightclub. And dammit, I would find a way to make him wish he’d never bought it. I’d find a way to run him out, to force him to sell it to me.
My eyes clung to Robert’s face as I heard the soft swoosh of the batwing doors. Slow, confident footsteps paced against the concrete floor as the new owner approached. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, willing my face into a neutral expression in the final moments I had before I was forced to face him.
“Good afternoon, Robert,” the man said.
And that voice slithered into my soul like a venomous snake.
I teetered on the edge of a knife as my brain slowed down, focusing on the familiar timbre. Robert’s gaze hovered just above my shoulder, on the man who now stood only a few feet behind me. “Hello, Leo,” Robert replied warmly, and ice spread through my body at the confirmation.
Leo bought Larkspur? Leo, my fucking one-night stand?
This couldn’t be happening. I sat frozen, unable to turn around to face him.
Did he know who I was last night? That I worked here?
Oh my god—he was celebrating. He was celebrating a business deal, and I celebrated right there with him. I drank seventeen-dollar champagne on his roof and ate his stupid pasta and let him do unmentionable things to my body—and the whole time, the sneaky fucking viper was stealing my bar!
Shame bloomed up my neck. I’d let this man in and allowed him to get close to me. So close that I daydreamed what it would be like to actually let him into my heart. And now . . . now he was my boss?!
This really couldn’t be happening.
“Leo.” Robert’s voice cut through the torturous train of thought sounding off inside my mind. “I want you to meet Larkspur’s extremely talented bar manager, Mara.” He gave me a confident smile, but after a long moment of me staring at him with what I was sure was wild fear in my eyes, his brows pulled together. He gave me a pointed look that said Turn around and say hi, like a parent scolding his child, and I knew I couldn’t stall any longer.
Taking a deep breath, I closed my eyes and willed myself to step down from the stool, turning in the direction of where Leo stood. Electricity prickled along my skin as I counted to three, and when I finally found the resolve to open my eyes, I nearly fell to the ground.
Leo.
It should have been a crime how good he looked in this moment of wanting to pulverize him, wearing a black suit that was clearly custom-made to fit his body. My grip on control slipped as an onslaught of memories from last night flooded into me—what his skin tasted like, the sounds he made when he came.
This was some sort of cruel, karmic joke.
