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“Have a good day!” With that, the blonde turned and headed out the front door.
“Who was that?” I threw a thumb behind me, purposelynotopening the bagbecauseHayden was so invested.
“Inessa,” Nolan answered slowly when Hayden didn’t. “Natasha’s cousin and Misha’s personal shopper.”
“He has a personal shopper?” I blinked at him. That was a new level of rich I hadn’t encountered before.
“Yeah,” Hayden sniffed, suddenly back in the fight. “But don’t expect shit like this every week and don’t let it go to your head, bartender. Hurry up with the restock, there’s another delivery out back you can go help the kitchen with. Do not forget to wear gloves. I don’t want the whole bar area smelling like seafood tonight.”
“Got it, bruh. Not our first day,” Nolan said loudly as Hayden drifted off. As soon as he was out of earshot, he nodded toward the bag. “You’re not going to open it?”
“Nah. Don’t want to get it dirty back here.”
“Good point. I’d hang it up in the changing room if I were you.”
“You don’t think someone’s going to walk off with it?”
“Around here?” He chuckled. “Nah. They know they’d lose a limb and there’s no reason to. If you need something, Misha will buy it without blinking. Some asshole knocked a bottle of grenadine off the bar one night and fucking coated me with it. I was like a walking Shirley Temple. An hour later, here comes Inessa with a brand-new outfit for me. And we’re not talking a Walmart special. It was designer shit. At midnight.” He raised his brows for emphasis.
I let that sink in as I rounded the bar and carried my new coat to the changing room like I was handling some priceless artifact. Even after I hung it up on the guy’s side of the room, I stared at the bag, chewing on my thumbnail while trying to decide what I should do with it.
On the one hand, a coat was kind of a good thing to have in Chicago when it was, you know, below freezing with wind gusts so strong you could barely walk let alone ride a motorcycle. And I’d had one last winter—except I abandoned it at one of the countless bars in the city, all for the sake of avoiding Ken. By the time I made it back there, the coat was gone and I hadn’t bothered replacing it yet, so this definitely saved me the hassle.
On the other hand, gifts were a slippery slope. If I was trying to land a permanent client, I’d take it as a good sign, an indication I had them on the hook. Except, I wasn’t trying to land Misha, in spite of what Hayden obviously thought. Was it simply a thoughtful gesture or was it an invitation? If Misha did it for everyone, then there was no harm. But Hayden waspissed. Was I too new to warrant luxury gifts, no matter how practical? Or was there something else getting his dander up? Did receiving a gift mean that I had been officially labeled a rival he needed to exterminate?
Unzipping the bag carefully, I pushed the protective material to the sides and stared at the black peacoat hanging in front of me.
“Holy shit,” I whispered, running my fingers over the lapel. Between the designer name and the fact the tag said “Cashmere” and “Wool,” it had to have been ridiculously expensive, even as far as coats went. A coat that conveniently had an M.S. embroidered on the inside, just below the collar, so there was absolutely no doubt it was meant for me and hadn’t been recycled from some other boy toy, unless Misha wasthatfucking lucky. Somehow I doubted it.
Practicality won out. Fuck Hayden. It was November in Chicago. I wasn’t going to freeze my ass off so he’dmaybenot be such a dick to me. And if Misha thought that me wearing a coat was accepting some hidden proposal? Well, I’d deal with that when it came up.
But it never did, even after I knew for a fact he saw me in it.
One night after bar close, we practically ran into each other—he was coming and I was going. The only reaction he gave was a faint smile before murmuring, “Looks nice,” and that was it! I blinked and he was gone, disappearing into the belly of Delirium with a small army of tatted-up guys. The coat was never mentioned again.
A few days later, Misha caught me in the alley on a break, personally delivering another present. Judging from the size and shape beneath the scarlet wrapping paper, I assumed it was a book. Overall, books were innocent, but I still didn’t take it when he held it out to me.
“What is that?” I asked, glancing between the present and his face.
“That’s not how this custom works.”
“What custom?”
His brows dipped slightly. “It’s your birthday, is it not?”
Was it? Shit, I guess it was.To me, it was another Friday. Still, I took the thing hesitantly, watching him closely for any sudden movements. “You buy all your employees birthday presents?”
“No, usually they get money. For some reason, I had a feeling you would object.” He blinked once, serenely, the barest trace of a smirk lifting the corner of his mouth.
I mean… yeah. He had a point. Straight-up cash would have definitely rang alarm bells in my head. Ignoring him, I turned my attention to the gift and held it up. “Am I supposed to open this now?”
“It’s yours. You can open it whenever you want.” He gave me a small smile and inclined his head.
I turned halfway, watching him disappear inside Delirium without so much as a glance behind him. As soon as the door closed, I slid a finger underneath the flap and ripped the wrapping off.
A book, big surprise. While I half-expected a self-help manual or an introduction to Russian culture or something, it was a biography of someone named Yuri Gagarin. I didn’t have a clue who that was. According to the blurb on the back, he was a famous cosmonaut—specifically, the first man in space—who later died in a plane crash.
It was a paperback, which I appreciated, but it also meant whatever Misha’d tucked inside the front cover left a little bulge once the wrapping paper wasn’t disguising it.
