Chapter Fourteen
Isla
My eyelids feel like they weigh a million pounds. All the weight of a so-far sleepless night tugs them down, but my brain won’t rest.
I roll onto my side, staring into the darkness. The moment replays in my mind – Walker's arms steadying me, his breath grazing my cheek. It's like a looped film, one I can't shut off even if I wanted to.
The warmth of him lingers on my skin, a tingling sensation that stirs a longing deep within my core. What am I doing? I tell myself off for the hundredth time. Walker, with his troubled past and devil-may-care attitude, is hardly the prince I envisioned awakening my desires and being my first. But then, the “princes” I’ve met so far don't make my heart race with just a glance. Of course, there’s just the one and he was more of a monster than Prince Charming, to be honest.
With a groan, I push away the tangled sheets and swing my legs over the edge of the bed. My toes touch the cold floor like I’m testing a pool to see if I can jump in or not. The cold helps ground me in reality.
Not sure what to do, I shuffle to my desk, flipping open my laptop with a sense of foreboding. My test results should be in now – so I can put one fear to rest or ramp it up by just checking.
Blinking at the bright screen, I wait for the page to load, then wonder if my blurry eyes are messing with me. There it is – the bright 'A' displayed on my test results. A smile tugs at the corner of my lips, a rare moment of pride swelling in my chest. It's a small victory, but mine all the same.
The clock ticks a rhythm as restless as I feel while I wander around my tiny room, each step measured, contradicting the chaos in my mind. The clock says I might as well just give up on sleep and get up. So, I make my way into the bathroom, ready to wash away the disappointment of not sleeping and bringing in a fresh feeling that focuses on my accomplishments. I got an A!
In the shower, droplets of warm water patter against my skin, washing away the last bit of sleepiness from the restless night.
Once I’m clean, I dress with more thought than usual. I select a pretty burnt orange blouse that’s stitched in a way that gathers at my waist and shows off my naturally slim figure without bringing too much attention to my not-so-big chest. The soft jeggings I choose are black and hug the curve of my hips and flatter me in all the right places.
Why am I doing this? The full-length mirror reflects back a girl who looks like she’s trying too hard, and I know it's for him – for Walker.
“Stupid,” I mutter under my breath, yanking a brush through my hair. I swipe on mascara, darkening lashes that make my eyes look bigger. There's a heat in my cheeks that makeup can't cover, a telltale sign of the thoughts that have been entering my mind. He's just a man, I remind myself. A man who probably won't even notice me, much less my efforts.
But I want him to. Oh, how I want him to see me, not as the naive girl he probably – correctly - thinks I am, but also as someone worthy of that searing gaze and the incredible intensity that seems to simmer just beneath his surface. I shake the thought away, grabbing my bag and heading out the door.
Today, I'll serve drinks with a steady hand and an indifferent smile. Today, I'll pretend that Walker doesn't affect me. Today, I'll ignore the heat he ignites inside me with every smoldering look.
But first, I need coffee.
I maneuver between tables, a tray balanced with practiced ease on my hand, six beers in a circle headed for a table of people younger than we typically see.
My gaze flits across the room, drawn like a magnet to where Cara is draped over Walker like an expensive fur coat. She's laughing at something he's said, but his eyes are distant, unfocused. He doesn't share her amusement. A knot forms in my stomach, tightening with every giggle that slips from her lips.
I turn away, willing myself not to care about her attempts to dominate every ounce of his attention. To not let jealousy take hold. But it boils in my belly, an unwelcome feeling that refuses to leave.
“Your order.” I smile at the table, seeing all the young men give me appreciative smiles.
“Thanks, doll.” One of them winks.
“You should join us.” Another man glances at his companions as if they have some bet about who’ll be able to charm me into doing what they want.
But it’s the one who slaps my ass that really riles me up. “Oh, we’re slapping now, huh?” I ask, then slap him across the face. “Did I do that right?” I ask as silence takes over where smiles and comments had been a moment ago. With my heart pounding, I take the empty tray and walk back toward the back of the bar with Liam’s amused eyes on me.
I hear scattered laughter and the angry voices of the men as they ask for the manager. Walker makes his way to the table as Liam stands between me and the guys. “What happened?” Walker asks and the men trip all over themselves to say I slapped one of them, unprovoked.
But the regular on the other side laughs, saying that the idiot thought it was a good idea to slap my ass. Walker fixes an unnerving stare on the young man, who shifts uncomfortably. “Is that true?” Walker asks, his voice low and dangerous as the whole bar holds its breath.
One of the guys nods, and the others follow suit.
“So, you sexually assaulted one of my staff and you’re mad she defended herself?” Hearing him put it that way, the guys begin to shake their heads, knowing there’s no way this can end well for them.
“I’m going to give you one opportunity to walk out of here.” He doesn’t even follow up with a threat, but the guys leap to their feet and hurry toward the door with real fear in their eyes. Walker watches them go, then makes his way to me as Cara tries to vie for his attention again.
“That was so amazing, I love that you protect women like me from creeps like that.”
But he ignores her as he makes his way to me, and I step from behind Liam, ready to face whatever punishment he sees fit and hoping I don’t get fired like Daniel did.
“Are you okay?” he asks, and every word I thought I might say vanishes as my mind goes blank. So I nod in response. “Would you like to take a break?” He’s speaking so gently I almost have to lean in to hear him.
“Yes, please,” I say. He jerks his head toward the break room and I hurry off, hoping he won’t change his mind and punish me, anyway. Of course, he could just be getting me to go somewhere so that he can fire me in privacy.
If that’s the case, I’m not getting fired on an empty stomach. I grab my pasta out of the fridge and settle at the table with my phone and a fork.
I’ve barely taken a bite when the door bangs open, and Cara stomps in, black mascara streaking her cheeks.
“This is all your fault!” Her accusation has me looking behind myself to see who she’s talking to. “Yes, you!” she says, and I blink.
“What did I do?” My voice betrays all the confusion I feel and my pulse races.
“You told him to fire me!” She spits the words at me, one after another like hatchets as she approaches with clenched fists.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” I stay sitting, but brace for confrontation, making an escape plan as I continue talking. “Cara, I swear, I didn’t know. Did he fire you?” I’m surprised, but some small part of me does a happy dance.
“Cut the act,” she says in an ugly tone, still inching closer. “I know you and Walker have something going on. And I'm going to tell everyone.”
My heart sinks to my stomach. “There's nothing going on between Walker and me.” The words come out firm with an edge of annoyance.
“Sure.” Her expression is mocking. “Your little plan to sleep your way to the top is going to backfire.”
I blink, unable to process what she’s just accused me of. Does she not see the irony in her words? As she stands over me, shoulders squared for battle, I remember the rush of adrenaline from putting Chase in his place. Would standing up to her give me that same thrill?
But no, I can't—won't—get into a brawl at work. Well, another brawl. Though I don’t think slapping that guy counted.
No more fighting unless she leaves me no other option. I don’t so much as meet her gaze as I take another bite of my pasta. A perfectly good meal is being ruined by a grown woman’s temper tantrum. How embarrassing.
“Okay,” I say, done with her. I can’t win the conversation, and I don’t really care what she has to say, so I’m not going to engage any more.
She leans in, her breath hot with fury. “You think you're so smart. Just wait.”
I lift a shoulder, swallowing my bite and taking another as I focus on my phone again.
Walker's voice ends the stand-off like he’s brought a gun to a fist fight. “Go quietly or I’ll have the bouncers remove you.” His unyielding baritone voice leaves no room for argument.
I flinch, not from fear, but from the unexpected intrusion of his presence. My eyes stay locked on my food, and I continue eating as if nothing else is happening. I do see Cara out of the corner of my eyes.
Her shoulders are hunched with defeat, her steps erratic as she gathers her belongings. The sight of her tear-streaked face should make me feel bad for her, but I only feel relief flooding through me—a guilty, secret relief that her fingers won't be lingering on his arm anymore.
“Are you alright?” His voice pulls me back to the present moment, to the here and now where Walker looms over me, all towering height and concerned gaze.
“Just eating lunch,” I say, hoping to wave away his concerns. My heart thunders and I internally beg it to slow down. It's ridiculous how just his nearness can affect me. I sure as heck don’t want him to know that his presence affects me either. Though it might be too late for that.
Walker eases down beside me, the seat creaking under his weight, and suddenly the break room feels too small, too intimate. “I know you’ve had a rough few weeks, and then today…” He trails off, then seems to get back on track. “Are you doing any better?” His voice is softer now, tinged with something like... worry?
I blink rapidly, fighting back the moisture that threatens to betray me. His gentleness is odd, given how often he’s sharp and cold and angry. His tone when talking to Cara sounded positively threatening. Now, he sounds almost… kind. It’s disarming.
I nod. “Yes, I’m doing a lot better,” I say, my voice little more than a whisper.
“Good.” There's a finality to that single word as he stands, a subtle signal that our unexpected encounter is over. He turns away, leaving me in silence, my thoughts a strange mess of confusion and longing.
He doesn't look back, and I'm left with the memory of his intensity and the sound of his voice in my mind, along with words that held more warmth than I anticipated. And despite everything, my lips curve upward, a silent acknowledgment of the flicker of hope that springs to life within me.
When I make my way back out to the bar, I make my way to Liam.
“Things are heating up. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he’s headed for a fight,” Liam says, nodding at Walker as he grabs a guy by the collar and begins to move him toward the bouncers, who quickly take over and shove the guy outside.
His authoritative glare and anger send a shiver down my spine. I turn away, trying to gather my thoughts.
“Get him out of here, too!” Walker's command is followed by the sound of protest and scuffling, the telltale signs of someone being ejected with little ceremony. He's all business when he needs to be, a leader who doesn't tolerate disruption. Yet, the tenderness he'd shown me just moments ago lingers in my mind, an unexpected warmth that tickles through me.
“Thank God she's finally gone,” Liam says with a blend of relief and exasperation as he leans closer to me, his eyes meeting mine for a second before glancing back toward the commotion. “I'm gonna grab some air.”
“Okay,” I say, my voice steadier than I feel. A silent nod acknowledges his statement, but inside, I'm rejoicing. Cara's departure feels like a weight lifted, her absence instantly undoing most of the tension that had been building in the pit of my stomach.
With a deep breath, I push away from the counter and stand tall. Seeing someone trying to get my attention, I make my way to them, each step feeling lighter than the last. The room buzzes with energy, the clink of glasses and laughter not interrupting my thoughts.
I flash a practiced smile at the patrons waiting for their next round. The ease of routine settles around me, comforting and familiar. But then, he catches my eye—this man unlike any other I've seen tonight.
He’s sitting at the far end of the bar, his suit looking like success, but his posture shouting defeat. His eyes, a deep well of sorrow, lock onto mine, and I know I need to go serve him. I know that look, and it’s not helped by drowning the sorrow, but if he needs an escape, I’m not judging.
I also can't help but wonder what caused that look on his face, why he looks so downtrodden despite his expensive clothing.
“You look like you need something strong,” I say, leaning in to bridge the gap between us as if I’m sharing a secret.
He nods. “Godfather, please.”
“Of course.” My hands work deftly, mixing the scotch with practiced ease before measuring out the amaretto. The rich, amber liquid swirls into the glass, the smell not unpleasant.
I find myself wishing he’d just spill whatever’s got him so worked up. I know he’s a stranger, but he’s also interesting. I look up, feeling someone watching me, and meet Vice’s stare. He arches an eyebrow at me, but his attention turns away. I look the same direction he did and see Walker. But Walker doesn’t seem to notice either of us.
“Rough day?” I ask, sliding the drink toward him as he watches the concoction blend together.
“Here you go,” I say, sliding the glass across the polished surface. Our fingers brush briefly, and he jolts as if I’ve shocked him. “I’m sorry.”
But he shakes his head. “No worries. Thanks.” He cradles the glass in his hands and stares into the depths of his drink, lost in thought, the lines of his face deep with worry.
“Hopefully, this helps a little,” I say, offering a tentative smile, hoping to offer support in the simple gesture.
He rewards me with a half-smile, the pain in his eyes easing for a moment. With a slight nod, he goes back to staring off into the void of whatever’s bothering him.
And as I glide behind the bar, scanning faces and catching bits of conversation as I move and serve the next customer, I wonder what else tonight will bring, because today has been a never-ending carousel of crazy.