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“Well, either way, they’re not my only customers tonight,” said Kira. “As you can see, it’s a very busy evening. I can’t have you standing around watching me.”
“Why not? Do you find it too distracting? How does it feel when I watch you?” he said. “Tell me, Kira. I’m intrigued.”
Kira felt a strange stirring inside of her. Something about his tone, his playful but commanding words, made her heart beat faster.
“It feels like…” She trailed off, losing her breath as Mr. Muscles smiled slowly at her. It was a wolfish, almost predatory smile. Those pale, piercing eyes rolled down her body and back up without a twinge of abashment.
“Go on,” he urged her.
He stepped even closer. Kira’s eyes went wide. She gulped.
She had to dig down deep to shake herself out of the trance he had over her. Kira cleared her throat and said, “I’m sure you must have something better to do than mess with me.”
He lifted one thick, defined brow. “There’s nothing in this world I’d rather do. But please, be my guest. Tend to your customers. I don’t need to be entertained. I have a perfectly good view from here,” he told her.
He folded his muscular arms over his thick barrel chest and sat back on the elegant bar stool behind him. All he had to do was give the male bartender a quick nod, and the barkeep immediately got to work mixing him a black Russian. That left Mr. Muscles free to stare openly at Kira as she arranged two whiskey sours on a tray. She lifted it over her head and swished away, ponytail bouncing behind her. She tried not to think about the fact that he was staring at her ass. She had to focus onnotspilling these drinks.
As she walked up to the old couple at the slot machines, they gave her warm smiles. Kira returned the gesture and gently handed them their drinks.
“Thank you, darling. Here, a little something for you,” the man said, rummaging in his shirt pocket. He pulled out a ten-dollar bill and handed it to Kira.
She slipped it into her apron pocket and smiled. “Thank you very much.”
As she turned away, she saw the couple raise their glasses in a shaky toast. The pair looked like lovesick teenagers, even though they had probably been together for decades. Again, Kira felt that emotional pull inside of her. A quiet longing for what they had. She only hoped she wouldn’t have to wait until she was a senior citizen to find it.
She looked back to see that Mr. Muscles was still watching her. He lifted his glass and winked at her. Kira’s face burned and she had to look away. She was grateful to be called over by another group of players at the slot machines. Kira flitted around the casino’s main floor, tending to customers and pocketing tips. All the while, he watched her. After a while, Kira actually felt a little braver, a little safer knowing he was there. So far, her time at the Shining Star had gone by without much issue, but she remembered how overwhelmed she had been when she first started.
Katja was the one who had gotten her the job after recruiting her from the dead-end restaurant job. Kira had been a waitress there, but she mostly handed out plates of steak and eggs or refilled people’s mugs with low-quality black drip coffee. There were no fancy cocktails, no flashy uniform, and the tips were scarce. But the casino was on a different level. Suddenly, Kira had to figure out how to do her hair and makeup, balance full martini glasses on a tray over her head, and walk in sexy heels.
Admittedly, she had been terrified during her first shift. She’d felt exposed in her fishnet stockings, and it had taken her way more time and concentration than expected to carry a tray of drinks across the crowded room. By the last hour of her first shift, Kira had been dog-tired and overstimulated. But before she could clock out and head home, there had been one last order for her to take. She’d been assigned to a foursome of middle-aged people who looked to be two couples on a double date, dressed head to toe in ritzy designer clothing. The women’s hands and necks had been bejeweled. Pearls and diamonds had sparkled at their ears. The men had worn fine tailored suits, and one of them had even had a gilded cane at his side.
Kira had known right off the bat that they would be demanding. They’d addressed her as ‘girl’ and tossed countless requests at her at the same time, almost talking over each other in their haste to overwhelm her. The women had wrinkled their noses and looked down at her, judging her by the form-fitting uniform she was required to wear. Envy and distaste had dripped from their every word. They’d sent Kira running back to the serving station again and again, adding more items to their list of demands. They’d wanted caviar. They’d wanted champagne. They’d wanted fancy cheese and crackers, but only the unsalted, gluten-free kind. They’d kept Kira busy down to the last few minutes of her shift. All four of them had ordered martinis, and Kira had dutifully picked up the tray to bring it to them.
By then, she had been a little shaky. She’d been exhausted, and her balance had been off. Despite her best efforts, Kira had made a fatal mistake. Right as she was leaning over the table to hand off the full, sloshy martinis, the toe of her shoe had caught on the casino carpet. Before she could warn them or right herself, the drinks had come tumbling off her tray, spilling all over the poker table and all down the foursome’s expensive outfits.
Instantly, Kira had been in very hot water. The women had screeched and swatted at the spilled cocktails on their dresses. The men had stood up and balled their hands into fists, leaning over Kira with apoplectic rage. Kira remembered the way they’d shouted and abused her with their words, loud enough for everyone to hear. People had stopped what they were doing to stare. Kira could only whimper apologies and shrink down smaller. She had been sure she would lose her job that night. On day one, no less.
But within a few minutes, there had been someone else there, towering over the men. It was Mr. Muscles, and he’d inserted himself between the clients and Kira. He’d glared down at them and asked in a rough voice, “Is there a problem here?”
“Are you this young woman’s supervisor? Because we would like to lodge a formal complaint! She clearly spilled our drinks on purpose because she’s jealous!” one woman had shrieked.
“Oh my god, my handbag is ruined!” the other had howled as she picked up her purse, which had only the faintest splash of liquid on it.
“I refuse to let your establishment mistreat my wife this way,” her husband had blustered.
“I can assure you it was an accident,” Mr. Muscles had said calmly.
“Either way, there’s no way she can pay to replace this handbag. It costs $20,000. I bet she doesn’t make that in a year,” the woman had said, giving Kira an ugly look.
Kira had simply receded, shrinking back behind Mr. Muscles. He’d chuckled softly and informed them, “Actually, the casino can cover any amount of damage or replacement, if that’s what it will take. We look after our clients and our employees here at the Shining Star.”
“Yeah, right. I’ll believe it when I see it,” one of the men had said.
Kira remembered the way Mr. Muscles had whipped out a checkbook and begun writing out a check for them without another word. He’d slid it across the poker table facedown. Kira had held her breath as she watched the man pick it up. His eyes had nearly bugged out of his head.
“This is…” He had trailed off.
“More than enough. You’ll be leaving tonight with a profit, even after you give your hard-working waitress a handsome tip. Correct?” he’d instructed.
