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“Great. One less thing to worry about.”
“Are you ok?” She clutched the planner to her chest, her dark brows furrowed. “You seem… stressed. Is it the promotion? You’ll do great. Besides, no one else wanted it.”
“Hayden did.”
She reached out and squeezed my arm gently. “Hayden’s used to managing hotels, not nightclubs. You’ve worked in plenty of high-end places. You know how to do this.”
“Sure.” I was glad she had confidence in me, because I sure as hell didn’t.
“Is there anything I can do to help?”
I forced a smile to my face and shook my head. “No, sorry. Just got a lot going on at home. That’s all.” And by a lot, I meant more shit than anyone my age should have to deal with.
I finally got an appointment to see the lawyer that cop told me about, but it wasn’t until January because apparently he wasthatbusy—which was good, since it meanthewas good and in demand, but bad because the kids had to wait that much longer. Don’t get discouraged, my ass. It didn’t help that as soon as she had them back, Crystal either took Bri’s phone away or blocked my ass, so I couldn’t call or text them to make sure they were ok.
Driving out to see Axel in rehab had also been eating at me. He was doing great, but our family therapy sessions weren’t very productive given the fact most of our joint issues stemmed from Crystal. Since there was no wayshewas going to come atone for any of the shit she’d done, therapy devolved into Axel pointing the finger at me, his surrogate parent, blaming me for anything and everything about how his life went wrong, while the therapist nodded and scribbled in her notepad.
Plus things with Misha were weird. I mean, not on his end. He was a gentleman like always, but I couldn’t get over the fact I kissed him and he didnothing. He said he wanted me but then he made zero moves in that regard. It was like the Cow Shed all over again. And that stuff about fighting for me? Who says that shit and then sits on their hands? A liar, that’s who. I needed to keep reminding myself of that instead of getting stupid butterflies every time I caught his gaze across the room.
Even before I assumed Misha’s role as general manager, his presence at Delirium had gone from occasional to rare, almost overnight. Whenever I did see him, he was usually surrounded by a small army of scary-looking dudes and theyweren’tthere to socialize. Usually, they came in through the back door and disappeared into the basement right away. Sometimes for hours. Nolan had already warned me not to go down there. It was the Number Two rule for all employees—“Don’t piss off the tattooed guys” was Number One and “Don’t go into the basement” came next.
So the only time Misha and I actually spoke to one another was when he caught me on a smoke break or if he came to get a drink from me. He’d drop a hundred on the bar, give me a millimeter of a smile, and disappear again. Now that I’d been promoted, I wouldn’t even havethatbrief interaction to look forward to.
I could see why he might keep his distance at Delirium but he didn’t even stop by the apartment anymore. There was no way that wasn’t weird, considering it washisapartment and I still had custody over his dog, for reasons that continued to mystify me. I tried not to read too much into it. Tried, failed. Story of my life.
“You’re being summoned,” Natasha said, nodding at something behind me.
Remembering I had an actual job to do, I turned, following her line of sight. I ignored the twinge of disappointment that it was Nolan, waving two bottles of champagne at me, and not Misha.
“Sergei’s hosting something big tonight. It literally came up like a minute ago, so now we need to have something on standby,” Nolan said when I walked over to him. “Moët & Chandon or Dom Pérignon?”
“Do you know what it’s for?”
Nolan shrugged. “No idea. I saw him yesterday with a bunch of suits, talking about property and skylines. So probably buying out another club or something? Maybe expanding into restaurants or hotels?”
“Ok, so businessmen.” I glanced between the two bottles before tapping the bottle in his right hand. It seemed to be the favorite for my old clients and God knew they had stupidly expensive taste. “Go with this one. Do you know what time this is happening?”
He shrugged again. “I only found out about it because Dimitri just told Enrique and the kitchen to prepare horsd’oeuvres and then Sveta asked me about it.”
“Dimitri? Which one is Dimitri again?” Other than the guy Misha said would kill him the first chance he got…
“You’ve seen him. He’s that tall guy with jet-black hair who’s always whispering with Sergei. Kinda looks like Dracula?”
“Oh. Yeah, I’ve seen him.” Between his unnaturally dark hair and the deep-set lines in his face, Dracula was an accurate description. The dude gave me the creeps. He was even more of a mystery than Misha was. Misha was personable. Even Sergei seemed personable. Dimitri didnot. In the time I’d been at Delirium, I couldn’t think of a single instance where I’d even exchanged words with the man. I knew I’d only personally served him one time when I was sent to refill their drinks in Sergei’s office. Dimitri gave me a withering glare and carried on conversing in Russian with Sergei. Come to think of it, hehadbeen coming around a lot more lately, which might have explained Misha’s noticeable absence.
“I’ll go make sure we have enough of this in stock,” Nolan said, disappearing down the back hallway.
I headed over to the bar to make sure it, too, was stocked with everything they’d need for a Friday night because I didn’t trust Hayden as far as I could throw him.
I’d almost forgotten about Sergei’s meeting until a parade of old white guys in suits marched through Delirium a couple of hours later. That wasn’t something you saw often. Or,ever. Delirium attracted a different sort of people—younger, for starters, with far less clothing. But knowing the whole mob thing, I could see why Sergei wanted a business meeting on his turf.
I was in the midst of doing my rounds, checking in with various staff and high-roller guests to make sure everything was satisfactory when I saw him in the line of suits.
Ken.
Ice coated the inside of each and every vein, freezing me in place as the group cut across the dance floor. He chattered away with the man beside him, barely even looking twice at the bar. I didn’t know whether to run or stay. If he hadn’t seen me yet, I definitely didn’t want to draw his attention with any kind of fast movement, like a mouse in front of a snake.
As Ken climbed the staircase, he paused, turning back to the crowd. His beady eyes swept over the people below, moving methodically. I may as well have been the only one there. I knew the exact minute his gaze locked onto me, burning into my skin and flaying me alive, because that’s when he fucking smiled.
