Just the thought of it makes me want to shrink into the carpet.
It didn’t stop me from dating men when I moved to Boston, but my relationships never lasted. I’ve been accused of being frigid and closed off, which I guess I am. I can’t help it. I just wish someone would take a chance on me, give me time to warm up to them and be gentle.
I’m checking through what’s clearly an illegal database of information about one particular customer when I hear my name being called from behind the bar.
I close the screen and walk over to where José, the bartender, is shaking a cocktail mixer with one hand while steadily pouring a double measure of something amber with the other.
“Hey.” He jerks his chin. “Would you mind taking this to table nine? Kirsten’s gone to the restroom and Hallie’s out back.”
“Sure.” I look around to locate table nine but it’s empty. “But, there’s no one sitting there.”
José arches a brow. “He’s on his way. And if his whiskey isn’t there before him, there’s a chance I might lose my job, so…”
“Okay,” I rush out. “No problem.”
He places the whiskey and two beers on a tray and jerks his head again, signaling the urgency.
I carry the tray of drinks to the back of the room and place them on the table. While I’m hinged at the hips, carefully placing the glasses on black coasters, a hot current winds down my spine. My breath stills and I straighten as gracefully as I can before turning around to see the source of the heat on my back.
Il Diavolo is standing so close to me I have to bendbackward to take in his face. Not that there’s much point to it—all I see is the horned mask with a pair of blown pupils beneath it.
I can’t help letting my gaze slide lower, over a clenched jaw, shaved skin, broad unapologetic shoulders and a chest hardened with tension beneath a custom-fitted suit.
A throat clears making my gaze ping back to the mask, and I realize I’ve been doing exactly what Hallie told me not to do. I’ve been staring. Again.
“I’m sorry, sir.” Glancing away, I step to the side to let him pass.
He pulls out a chair and sits, then two other men appear, each watching me through their masks with an air of amusement on their lips. When I turn back to the table, his mask tilts up slightly until I’m sure he’s looking directly at me, and I can’t stop myself from peering back.
His hand moves, wrapping around the glass. He doesn’t break eye contact as he lifts it. Full lips touch the tumbler and the heavy crystal glistens in the low light, amber swirling as he takes a deep pull. Still watching me.
Heat flares low in my stomach and I grip the tray to stop my fingers shaking.
Silence lingers all around us—even the lounge seems to have quietened. But the silence isn’t empty. It’s heavy and charged, vibrating with tension.
I give my head a small shake to rid it of illusion. Of course the place is charged tonight. Il Diavolo himself is gracing the club with his presence. And that’s exactly how it feels. Groups seem to part for him, eyes are drawn his way from every corner of the room, women’s laughter grows more musical, bartenders tremble over getting the right drink on the right table at the right time.
My chest tightens and I take a step back.
His eyes follow me.
I wish I could see them properly, as colors and expressions,and not as darkened orbs beneath a film of decadence. Then, in contrast to the depth and intensity of his stare, he turns his head, dismissing me without a word. Not even a thank you.
Feeling dejected, I turn, gripping the tray, and walk back to the bar. I don’t stop until I’ve reached it and have something to hold onto. It’s only then I realize I’m breathing too fast and too hard, like I’ve been running.
I press a hand briefly to my chest, trying to calm down.
I don’t feel the heat on my back anymore and my heart sinks, not because he’s no longer watching me, but because I have a feeling he’s seen everything he needed to.
And he doesn’t like what he’s found.
CHAPTER FIVE
Pfeiffer
My life is unrecognisable.
My days are short and filled with lists, reminders and bouts of anxiety, while the nights blur into one long evening filled with low jazz and dimmed lights.
