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Unless my instincts about them are way off base, and they never are, Orion would sooner walk in front of a car than try to poach his brother's girlfriend.
That doesn't mean the annoying man won't flirt to get a rise out of Atlas.
"Put a sock in it, Romeo," I tell Orion. "Atlas isn't here to get a rise out of."
And by the way, where exactly is he? Not asking. Not. I am not that needy, clingy girlfriend.
"I'll have my usual," I tell Willow. "What can I get you?" I ask Orion.
"Do you have plomari?" He asks about a traditional and high rated brand of ouzo.
"Drinking ouzo is a little cliché of you isn't it?"
"I am Greek." He shrugs. "Why should I settle for anything less?"
"We have Metaxa. Will that do?" We carry Ouzo 12 too, but I suspect he wants the less common brand.
His eyes light up with surprised approval. "Very nicely."
I signal to Willow to pour him a shot.
"Ice, or no ice?" she asks him.
"No ice."
"A purist, huh?" She pours a finger of the clear liquid that smells faintly of black licorice into a rock glass.
"No one has ever accused me of being pure," he purrs.
Willow hands him his drink. "I bet."
Ignoring their banter, I take a sip of my cranberry juice and soda water. The fizzy bright tang slides over my tastebuds.
"Where's your table?" Orion asks me.
It's my turn to shrug. "I don't sit down long enough to keep one free for me."
"No VIP area?" He swivels his head from side to side, like he'll find one if he looks hard enough.
There's a space upstairs, but buying my house takes precedence. "Not yet."
The renovations needed to make it something more than a few extra tables with a view of the dance floor will take a significant monetary outlay. Not to mention the additional staff necessary. The VIP area is something that will have to wait for the next phase of my business plan.
"I was hoping to get to know you better," Orion says. "But this shouting every word isn't working for me."
"Come on." I lead him to my office, unlocking the door when we reach it.
Orion follows me inside and puts his drink down on my desk before throwing his arm over my shoulder. "Smile."
"Watch it. You're going to make me spill my drink."
He snaps a selfie before I realize what he's doing and then steps away quickly, a devious expression on his face.
"What was that for?" I demand. As if I don't know.
"Letting Atlas know what he's missing."
"He's doing his thing for your brother," I chastise as I lean back against my desk. "Do you think it's fair to tease him?"
