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Intimate. Was it? I had no idea. I had no idea what was happening. Or I was just in complete denial. Yeah, probably that.
I shook my head, shaking off the sentiment. “I think it just looked that way. We were just dancing, like I said. It’s nothing.”
“You don’t have to be embarrassed,” Dominika said. “But you should be careful.”
Careful. That warning again.
“So you’ve said.”
“I just mean, the situation is messy. Professional implications aside, it’s not like you live around the corner. I can see this getting a little out of hand and then both of you getting hurt. And it’s not that I don’t think my brother can take care of himself. He can. But Ondrej isn't himself these days. He's more emotionally volatile than he likes to admit. He doesn’t fall easily, but when he does, he falls big and hard. And you... I can't quite figure out if you're just doing your job or if there's something more.”
“I appreciate that, but I don’t see either of us at risk of getting hurt. I think we’re both, well—” I shook my head. “There’s just nothing there. Nothing to get hurt over. We’ve grown to know each other these past few weeks, and admittedly, I think he’s a great guy. But like you said, there are professional implications, and then, of course, the fact that I live halfway around the world. I love Prague and all, but I can’t just up and leave everything I’ve worked for in Los Angeles. So don’t worry, okay?”
She stared at me hard and earnestly for a few moments before nodding casually. “If you say so. I just hope you’re not lying to yourself. That’s the biggest crime, isn't it? Lie to others, but never to yourself.”
She went on before I could answer. “This whole situation with the hotel has put a strain on all of us. Ondrej especially. And I know your company has its own agenda."
My mouth fell open slightly as I tried to think of what to say. But the truth was, I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know how I felt. I didn’t know how Ondrej felt. I didn’t know what was happening between us. But Dominika was right. I had to put an end to it.
“Like I said, nothing to worry about. But if you’ll excuse me, I do have to use the ladies’ room.”
ChapterTwenty
Not knowing what else to do with myself, I wandered up to the bar in the back of the room and slipped into a high-top stool. I was deluding myself by thinking the budding chemistry between Ondrej and me meant anything. It didn’t change our professional situation or change the fact that my career was going to tank when I got back. It didn’t change that I still, in fact, have to go back. Dominika was right. I needed to tread lightly for the remainder of my time here.
As I sat at the bar, lost in a sea of thoughts about my future, a sudden burst of laughter and a waft of exotic perfume shocked my system. I looked up to see a woman with an over-the-top presence sauntering up to the bar, flanked by an entourage of men and women.
She wore a turquoise dress with peacock feathers decorating the skirt and had fiery, copper hair wound into a beehive updo. Everything about her was theatrical—from the dress and hair to the glittering makeup—but in looking her over, I got the distinct impression that this wasn’t an act. She was so smooth and comfortable in the way she carried herself as though screaming, hello world, this is me!
At first glance, I’d probably peg her at around 50 years old, but then, on closer examination, she was one of those women who could be 40 or 80, depending on how good her surgeon was. I certainly knew plenty of those women in LA.
She sauntered up to the bar, and I couldn’t peel my eyes from her.
“Good evening!” she addressed the bartender in English, tinged with some identifiable Eastern European accent. “We will need Champagne. Ze best you have, no?”
Her head swiveled casually to the side, and she locked eyes with me.
"Darling, what is this melancholy aura I detect?" she addressed me like we were old friends in an old-timey film.
I offered a polite smile, unsure how to respond. She seemed to need no encouragement to continue.
“No English?”
“Oh, yes, sorry. I speak English, yes. I’m just—preoccupied.”
She narrowed her large blue eyes at me curiously, barely crinkling the delicate skin encircling them. Good surgeon, indeed.
“On second thought, barkeep. We require your most extravagant concoction. Something that sparkles and tells a story!"
The bartender waited a moment as though awaiting further instruction, then simply nodded and went to work.
“I am Madame Zura,” the woman said, extending her hand to me as though she wanted me to kiss it. I declined but shook it lightly, eyeing the oversized ruby on her right hand.
“Are you a psychic?” I asked.
“What? Why would you ask that? No, don’t be absurd.”
Right… wouldn’t want to risk that. “Nice to meet you, Madame. I’m Sienna.”
