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She shakes her head, tries to pull away. “I don’t know what you’re apologizing for.” She glances over my shoulder, then starts to
push me away. “I have to get back to work.”
“You’re done working for tonight.”
“No, I’m not. I need this job.” She walks away from me then, heads straight to the bar. “I need two Absolut and cranberries, a Nolet’s Reserve and soda, and two Diet Cokes,” she tells the bartender.
“On it,” he answers.
“After you deliver those, you’re done.”
“I’m done in an hour, when my shift ends.”
“Don’t fight me on this, Aria—”
“I just want to do my job, Sebastian. Let me do it.”
“Hey, Aria,” the bartender says as he sets the drinks on the bar in a steady stream, one after the other. “Is this guy bothering you?”
“No.” She looks right through me. “He’s not bothering me at all.”
I’m fuming as I watch her pick up the drinks and head off to deliver them. Partly at her but mostly at myself. I know better. I fucking know better. No matter what she’d told me, no matter how she’d acted as she was leaving my office, I should have known ending up here was a possibility.
I’ve got two choices at this point. I can force her to leave now or I can wait until her shift is over and care for her then. And while every instinct I have is screaming at me to get her the hell out of here, now, I’m smart enough to know that might not be the right move. Partly because David is already watching us suspiciously—and unlike the bartender, he knows exactly who I am. The last thing I want Aria to have to deal with right now is rumors about the two of us, especially since neither of us yet knows what “us” really entails.
Even more important, she told me that she wants to stay. Right now, with the way she’s crashing, the last thing I want to do is take this decision out of her hands. She doesn’t trust me as it is—forcing my will on her right now is probably the most unhealthy thing I can do to her. To us.
And so I wait. Impatiently. Silently seething every time she stumbles. Every time some dick with more balls than compassion lays a hand on her. I’d take care of it before it happens if I could, but the place is packed tonight and there’s no way to tell who is going to behave like a human being and who’s going to be a total jackass. At least not until after it happens, at which time I’m more than happy to make sure he understand the error in his ways.
But that’s not good enough. Not when Aria is so vulnerable. So lost. So fucking empty. And knowing that I did this to her—that I sent her spiraling into this state when all I wanted to do was give her pleasure—makes me crazy.
I’ve never been this careless before, and the fact that I made the mistake with her makes it ten times worse.
I try to talk to her a couple times, to run a soothing hand down her back or give her a squeeze on the shoulder, but when she just stares at me blankly I end up feeling like every other asshole who’s been trying to fuck with her while she’s doing her job.
It’s not a good feeling.
And so, finally, I settle myself onto a stool at the bar where I watch the second hand on my watch spin its way slowly, slowly, slowly around the numbers. Again and again and again. Sixty seconds—sixty minutes—never took so long.
The moment the clock reads two-thirty, I’m off the stool and across the room, my arm around Aria’s waist.
“I need to clock out,” she tells me.
I start to tell her to forget about it, that I’ll take care of it, but once again I stop myself. This whole thing was supposed to be about helping Aria gain control of her life, not about taking control away from her.
So I wait a little longer, watching as she strokes a few keys on the computer and logs out for the night.
When she’s done with everything she needs to do, when she’s logged out and gathered her things, I take her hand. Lace our fingers together. “Do you want to go upstairs?” I ask, putting the control firmly in her hands. “Or do you want me to take you home?”
She looks startled—a good sign, I think, considering it’s the first emotion she’s shown since she came, crying out my name. “I’m fine. I can get myself home.”
My good intentions go right out the window in the face of her stubbornness. “That wasn’t one of the options, Aria.”
“It should be.”
I incline my head, because she’s probably right. It probably should be. But she needs someone to take care of her tonight and leaving her alone isn’t a choice I can give her. Not right now when it’s taking every ounce of control I have not to sweep her into my arms and carry her through the damn casino. Not when I want nothing more than to take her up to my suite, to my bed, and keep her there for a week. Or forever. Whichever comes last.
“Choose,” I tell her when I finally have my shit together enough to speak. “Now. Because one way or another, you’re leaving this casino with me.”
