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But not together.
Definitely not together.
Chapter
Nineteen
We all know duty better than we discharge it.
JOHN RANDOLPH
ARIANA DE LUCA
I smoothed out my hair and clothes before I stepped out of the basement, then passed Dana on the way to the restroom.
Her lips tilted upward as she watched me from her perch at the edge of the bar, a pen in her right hand and a complaint form in the other.
She’d lied.
Graham had a complete handle on things, and I’d only been retrieving the ice because we didn’t have a big crowd at this hour.
What a cow.
In the restroom, I fixed my hair and makeup, washed my cheek where Bastian had swiped my wetness onto, cursed the breeze from my lack of panties, and headed back out.
Graham nodded to me as I passed him. I dipped down the stairs, my back aching with each step, and took in the empty cellar.
Nothing.
The buckets of ice had been emptied and sat stacked on the rack to the side.
I bounded the steps and ducked to the back of the bar. Dana passed, her smirk from earlier gone and a scowl lining her perfect features. I lifted the lid to the ice freezer.
Full.
What? Did Bastian…?
No, he wouldn’t.
Graham passed me and tapped my shoulder. “You’re welcome.”
“Oh.” Of course, it was Graham. I squeezed his hand and smiled. “Thank you.”
“No problem.”
A throat cleared, and we both turned to face Bastian.
“Whiskey. Neat.” He looked so irate for someone who’d just come in my mouth and watched me swallow it.
I turned to Graham. “I’ve got this.”
He nodded and headed to his end of the bar, where he pretended to be busy.
I kept my voice low as I spoke. “It’s not even five.”
“I don’t actually want the drink. I just want him gone.”
My eyes widened for a fraction, and I took in his face, wondering how in the world we got here.
