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“Tristan?”
“Mmm?” He stared down at her, his eyes scanning her features.
“I want to audition.”
“For what?” Her hair blew gently as he stepped closer. Still without touching.
“Your stage. I want to perform on your stage.”
He remained expressionless, but he did take a noticeable step back. “How?”
“How?” Puzzled by the question, she nevertheless ventured to say, “Sing. I want to sing on your stage. Just give me a chance and I’ll prove I’m worth it.”
Tristan studied her face before asking, “How long have you been wanting this?”
She bit her lip. “You didn’t think I had my sights on waitressing for a career, did you? Come on, let me perform for you right now and if you don’t like what you hear, I’ll never ask again.”
Sighing, he pulled out a chair and dropped down into it. “Fine. One song. Let’s hear it.”
She grinned, then turned and jumped up onto the stage. None of the microphones or equipment were set up, but she wanted the feel of performing on stage. Then clearing her throat and sweeping a curtain of hair over her shoulder, she embarked on the lyrics of a well-known song she long ago practiced and memorized. Without the single aid of a musical instrument, she belted out the song and hit every cord and note until at last she sang the last lyric.
When she was done she looked down at Tristan and nervously examined his face for a reaction. She felt she gave him a good performance. She was quite pleased with her rendition of the song and was relieved when Tristan stood up and nodded.
“Not bad,” he said. “Actually, pretty good.”
“You sound surprised.” She smirked. “I wouldn’t have wasted your time if I thought otherwise.”
He actually produced a genuine grin. “All right. One night a week. Monday. I’ll leave the busier nights for the house band.”
If it would not have looked unprofessional, Sonya would have jumped up and down with joy. Instead, she replied, “You won’t regret it.”
“Why do I feel like I already do?” This time he offered her a full smile. “Do you always get what you want?”
She stared down at him. He looked absolutely gorgeous but unattainable in the dim lighting. With a little sigh, she admitted, “No.”
His brows arched. “Why else would you have taken this job? You said yourself, waitressing wasn’t in your career goals.”
Sonya chuckled. “Is it for anyone? Especially in an establishment such as this. It can be one hell of a dangerous game if not careful.”
“Dangerous?” he asked softly, implying she had a double meaning.
“Come on, Tristan,” she said. “Even locked away in your office you must realize the risks your waitresses encounter on a nightly basis.”
His low chuckle drifted up towards her. “I find it hard to believe you are threatened by any man.”
She chuckled as well, then jumped down off the stage to stand in front of him. “Maybe. I probably would have taken out that asshole’s chance of ever having babies if it were me last Saturday.”
He looked puzzled. “That doesn’t sound like very good customer service. What asshole in particular are you referring to?”
“The bozo who looks like he hasn’t been laid in years and probably won’t be anytime soon either.”
Tristan looked amused but still confused. “Why do I suddenly pity the poor fellow you’re talking about?”
She grinned and played with the thought of running her hand up his arm. Feeling giddy with happiness from her successful audition, Sonya idly toyed with the image of Tristan grabbing her by the waist and hoisting her up on to the bar where he would drive his passion home. “You mean you missed out on Saturday’s little scene?”
“Apparently.” The amusement began to slowly ease away, if not the look of confusion.
“Didn’t your bouncers tell you?”
