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“I’m here to replace a broken lock,” the locksmith said. He had a mop of curly hair and his hands were blackened and dusty.
I nodded and pointed to the front door.
“Righto,” he said, putting his bag down.
“Would you like some coffee?” I asked.
He grinned. “That would be awesome.”
I went back into the kitchen and stood next my freshly brewed coffee. I tried to stop replaying everything about him in my mind. From the soundless way he moved, to the way that he had held me in the midst of my panic attack, or the way that he spoke, but especially what he’d just said.
My dream is to keep the people dearest to me safe.
He may have been severely lacking in the romance gene department, but even I had to admit those words sounded genuine, unpretentious and pure-hearted. I felt my heart soften and realized immediately that I was playing a dangerous game. By the time I left the kitchen with the locksmith’s coffee I had hardened my heart again.
Britney sent me some of the shots she’d taken and I began to curate them. The locksmith left, I began to put everything back into place again, and life as I knew it kicked back into motion, but all day long my mind kept straying into the forbidden territory that was Maxim.
I couldn’t stop thinking of him.
Even when I forced myself to remember the hate I had for him over Anna, that too had seemingly faded in intensity in light of his explanation.
Britney came back. The night stretched intolerably. The next day was long. I kept looking at my phone. I wanted to call him, see him, touch him. Way too many times the sudden urge for him to touch me again completely overwhelmed me. At night, I thought of him and touched myself. The orgasm was so intense I nearly cried out. When daylight broke, I felt like a junkie. Even Britney commented on my appearance at breakfast. We worked together in silence. Then I left for my evening job for the first time since my injury.
I was nearing the end of my shift when my heart nearly stopped.
I saw Maxim… or at least I imagined I had. I had just delivered an order when it seemed as though his icy blue gaze had caught me from across the crowd. But someone took a seat before me and I was forced to drag my attention away from searching the crowd for him to my customer.
Monsieur Antoine was seated in front of me.
I sucked in my breath and tried to work up an honest smile, but it was hard to, especially with the almost-faded bruise by his temple. He damn well deserved it though.
“Good evening, Monsieur,” I greeted evenly.
The look he gave me made my blood run cold. “Is it?”
I neither wanted to provoke or be provoked by anyone tonight. I needed this job. I swallowed down my pride. “I’m sorry about what happened that night. I hope we can move past it.”
He gave me a bitter look. Just then my floor manager Ryan called out to me. “A moment, Freya?”
I was more than grateful for the save. “Excuse me,” I said and hurried over to Ryan. I gave him a smile and hoped whatever errand he wanted to send me on would take me away from the bar for more than a little while.
“So,” he began, looking more uncomfortable than I’d ever seen him.
“What’s wrong?”
“It’s so fucking hard for me to say this. This world’s a fucking disgusting place and you haven’t done anything wrong. You are also one of my best workers but… my hands are tied. I’m going to have to let you go, Freya.”
That was completely unexpected. I blinked so rapidly the room flashed before my eyes. Did I hear wrong or was he joking? He did sometimes have a weird sense of humor. “What?”
“It’s that French bastard. He insisted on it. I’m so sorry, Freya, but he spends a fuck load in here and I can’t lose him. I’ll give you a glowing reference. You should have no problem finding another job. You’re one of the best.”
I felt hurt, so hurt that for the first few moments, I couldn’t say a word, or move. Then I straightened my spine.
“Sure,” I said nonchalantly. I turned around and looked directly at the pathetic bastard. He had a sick smile on his face.
He raised his tumbler to me in salutation. “See you around, Princess!”
Everyone around me seemed to for some reason call me Princess, and the title was seriously beginning to piss me off.
I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of looking hurt. “Be careful in the alleyways,” I called.
His face changed.
I winked at him then. Turning around I marched into the staff room and grabbed my belongings. Fuck him. Fuck this bar, Fuck Ryan. I didn’t need any of them.
