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“We aren’t going to discuss it.”
“We should,” she pressed.
“Let’s get to thelegitjob, okay? I think I’ll stick with the fish guts for now.”
My best friend and I had had this discussion over and over, and it always ended the same way.
Me smelling like fish.
Fiora rolled her eyes. “Suit yourself. Just hurry and clean up. We don’t want to keep the caterer waiting. I’ll drive while you try to clean your stinky ass.”
I shook my head, grabbing a rag to wipe what I could off my hands. I quickly packed up my stall, changed, and followed Fiora through the crowded market, the stench of salt and fish fading as we made our way to the opulent mansion on the outskirts of town.
We rushed to Olympus Manor, the sound of our heels clacking on the pavement filling the quiet night air. As we approached the grand entrance, the imposing gates creaked open, revealing the sprawling mansion that lay beyond. The wealthy guests who would soon fill the halls of the manor lived a life I wanted no part of. Not really.
My father had wanted it. He had promised me that one day…
But my father had died trying to reach the impossible. His dreams were his demise.
I was a realist. And a survivor because of it.
We were quickly ushered in by one of the many hired staff members, and I made my way to the kitchen to join the other servers. The caterer, a small woman with a sharp tongue and even sharper knife skills, barked orders at us as we rushed to set up tables and prepare hors d’oeuvres.
The guests began to arrive, each one more ostentatious than the last. The smell of saltwater mixed with the scent of expensive perfumes and colognes as we made our way through the grand halls adorned with priceless artwork and opulent furnishings became my evening norm.
“Storee,” the caterer said with a curt nod, handing me a tray of hors d’oeuvres. “Get these out to the guests, and make sure the champagne glasses are never empty. We’re expected to provide exceptional service. Even more so sinceallthe Godwins are present tonight.”
I nodded, my mind already in work mode as I made my way to the ballroom.
The Godwins were like royalty on this island. They might as well have been wearing crowns since they actually ownedallthe land and everyone on the island were merely renters. They were our landlords… or our captors depending on who you asked.
Troy Godwin was the living patriarch and an asshole. His adult children weren’t all that bad—again, depending on who you asked—but they still scared the shit out of me.
They were haunted. No question about it. Something dark lurked inside each one of them. Apollo, Ares, and their sister Athena were three people I had no intention of ever getting to know. Something about them whispered of death and mayhem. Not that they’d ever want to become friends with the likes of me.
Heathens Hollow residents were mere peasants to them.
Unless you were one of the rich. And there were also plenty of rich who lived on this island. The rich, the famous, the powerfulall mingled at these parties, and I had learned how to serve them just the way they all expected.
The room was alive with the chatter of the elite, their expensive attire and sparkling jewelry glimmering under the chandeliers. Flashes of laughter and the clinking of glasses created an atmosphere of carefree indulgence, a stark contrast to the struggles faced by my fellow islanders just beyond these gilded walls. I moved through the crowd with ease, my training as a waitress not failing me now.
As I made my way to the center of the room, I sawhim. Damn.
Locke Hartwell.
My father’s best friend, and my honorary guardian since his death. Locke’s constant oversight wasn’t something I necessarily wanted or had asked for, but it had been forced upon me whether I liked it or not.
He leaned against the bar, a glass of whiskey in hand. He was dressed in a designer suit, his chiseled jaw tightening the minute he saw me. His eyes followed me through the room, before finally locking with mine. I quickly looked away and continued my service, my heart pounding in my chest.
He was a handsome man, but a stern one. His dark hair was peppered on the sides with gray, giving him a distinguished look that commanded respect. He had a presence that filled the entire ballroom, and I could feel his gaze on me the entire time I worked. I tried to ignore him, but every time I glanced in his direction, he seemed to be watching me intently with those dark brown eyes of his.
We exchanged pleasantries as we passed by each other throughout the night, but there was an unmistakable tension between us. Finally, after hours of catering to the guests’ every whim, it was time for me to go home.
Cleaning up the last of the trays, I made my way toward the kitchen when Locke called out to me.
“Storee,” he said in a low voice.
I stopped in my tracks and turned around to face him. He stood in front of me, his arms folded across his chest in a casual stance. There was something about how he looked at me that made my heart flutter and my stomach tighten up in knots.
