Chapter Six
Belle
I weaved through the crowd at The Gray with a tray of empty glasses balanced on my uninjured palm, my steps careful and my full attention on where I was going.
The last thing I wanted was a repeat of the previous night while navigating this luxurious maze.
The encounter with Valentina had upset me on so many levels, but it also conjured the memory of Dario Luca’s touch on my skin, sending an uncomfortable spark through my chest. I tried my best to ignore the feeling as I focused on not colliding with the beautiful people who filled every corner of the club.
Music pulsed through the air, vibrating through my body as I slipped between tables where the wealthy and powerful reclined like modern royalty.
I'd learned some of the regulars and their preferences, anticipated their needs before they voiced them.
Sophia had helped me tremendously in that regard.
I swear, the woman had a photographic memory.
"Belle," called a man from a corner booth, his suit probably worth more than my yearly rent. He was a regular whose name I'd never learned, but whose generous tips had helped me catch up on my back rent. "Another round for the table, please."
I nodded with a smile, mentally calculating the order. "Right away, sir. The usual for everyone?"
He grinned, clearly pleased I'd remembered. "You're a treasure. Yes, little Belle. The usual." He was older and unfailingly kind, but I wasn’t fooled. One thing I’d learned since I’d started working at The Gray was the most powerful men and women were mysteries. The less everyone knew about a patron, the more important they were. The more important they were, the more dangerous they were. Even Sophia didn’t know this guy’s name, so I knew his pleasant demeanor was likely a cover.
Small victories. That's what kept me going each night.
The knowledge that for the first time in years, I wasn't living moment to moment, dreading the next unexpected expense that would send me spiraling.
True, something bad could still happen, but I was in a better place financially and it was all thanks to my employment at The Gray.
I navigated toward the service bar, exchanging quick smiles with other servers rushing past with their own loaded trays.
Even Mr. Wilson, perpetually scowling as he inspected each plate leaving his kitchen, nodded when I passed.
I might have imagined it, but I really thought his expression softened sometimes when he looked at me.
He’d left a sample of a new dessert in the break room with my lunch.
"Quality control," he claimed gruffly when I thanked him.
At the main bar, I set down my tray of empties and placed the new order.
While the bartender worked, I scanned the room, taking in the glittering scene.
The dance floor pulsed with beautiful bodies moving in time to the beat.
The minute it took the bartenders to get my orders together was the only time I got to look at the place since I had no desire to spell another month's salary.
Or break any more glasses. The VIP section glowed with amber lights.
Along the walls, security personnel stood at discrete intervals.
"You're on fire tonight," said the bartender, sliding the first of my drinks across the polished surface. "The blue table asked for you specifically."
I felt a flush of pride. The blue table was a group of finance guys who tipped exceptionally well and weren't handsy like some customers. "Must be my charming personality," I joked.
"Must be," he agreed with a wink. "Or the fact that you and Sophia are the only two who remember which one is allergic to lime and I saw you first. Congrats.”
I laughed, feeling a lightness in my chest that had been missing for years.
The anxiety that had followed me through most jobs had begun to fade, replaced by a steady confidence that I could handle whatever the night threw at me, despite the previous night’s fiasco.
But live and learn. I loved working here even if there had been a few bumps.
Across the room, I spotted Sophia behind the second bar, her dark hair pulled back in a sleek ponytail.
When she caught my eye, she grinned and gave me a discreet thumbs-up.
I returned the gesture, grateful for her friendship.
She'd taken me under her wing from my first day, informing me of the unwritten rules of The Gray, helping me navigate both the physical space and the complex social hierarchies.
I'd brought her cookies this afternoon too, her favorite peanut butter chocolate chip.
She'd declared them "better than sex," then amended to "better than bad sex, anyway. "
With my tray newly loaded, I made my way back to deliver the drinks.
As I passed the entrance to the VIP section, I caught a glimpse of dark hair and broad shoulders.
Dario Luca. My pulse jumped, but I kept my eyes forward, pretending I hadn't noticed him. You know. Again. I’d managed to avoid him most of the night, though sometimes I thought I felt his gaze following me across the room.
Or maybe that was just wishful thinking.
Either way, I'd been careful to keep my distance, remembering Mr. Longmire’s warning about fraternization with the owners. Especially Dario.
After delivering the drinks and delivering the first drink order from the blue table, I headed toward the service corridor that would lead me back to the kitchen to take a quick break.
I figured five minutes would be good to stretch my back and re-bandage my hand.
The hallway was dimly lit compared to the main floor, offering a brief respite from the sensory overload of the club.
I pushed through the swinging door, letting it close behind me, muffling the music to a distant throb.
I'd taken only a few steps when a figure stepped out from a shadowed alcove, blocking my path.
The woman wore a clingy gray dress that hugged every perfect curve, her honey-blonde styled perfectly, highlighting her aristocratic features.
Diamonds glittered at her throat and wrists, catching the low light. Valentina Reeves in the fucking flesh.
My steps faltered as I registered her presence, my knuckles whitening around the tray I clutched to my chest. Something in her posture, in the cold assessment of her gaze, set off warning bells in my head.
"So you're the new toy everyone's talking about," she said, her voice smooth as expensive liquor but with a bitter aftertaste. She looked me up and down, taking in my simple black uniform with obvious disdain. "Not what I expected."
I swallowed, trying to maintain my professional composure despite the sudden dryness in my mouth. "I don't believe we've met," I said, attempting a polite smile. "I'm—"
"Blue Belle," she cut me off, making my name sound like a joke.
"Yes, I know who you are. The whole club knows who you are after Dario's little display.
" Her perfectly manicured fingers toyed with the diamond pendant at her throat.
"Tell me, what's your secret? How did you get Dario Luca on his knees in spilled whiskey? "
Heat flooded my face. "I-I didn’t do anything," I said quietly. "It was just an accident—"
"Don't play innocent," she interrupted, stepping closer. The corridor suddenly felt too narrow and almost suffocating. Valentina’s obvious disdain seemed to lower the temperature a few degrees. "I've seen how you look at Dario."
My cheeks burned hotter. "I don't look at Mr. Luca in any special way," I protested, hearing the defensive note in my voice. "He's the boss. That's all."
Her laugh was like breaking glass. "The boss.
Of course." She moved closer still, forcing me to take a step back.
"Let me give you some free advice, little Belle.
Men like Dario don't notice girls like you unless they want something.
And once they've taken it, they will throw you away like yesterday’s garbage. "
I clutched my tray tighter, unable to think of a response. Part of me wanted to push past her, to escape this unexpected confrontation, but another part felt frozen in place, pinned by her accusing stare.
"I—I should get back to work," I finally managed, my voice smaller than I intended.
"You really have no idea what you're getting into, do you?" Valentina tilted her head, studying me with something between pity and contempt. "How adorably naive."
I tried to side-step around her, but the corridor was too narrow, and she subtly shifted to block my path. The overpowering scent of her perfume seemed to saturate the air around me making it difficult to breathe. "Excuse me," I said more firmly, finding a sliver of courage. "I need to pass."
Valentina smiled, the expression never reaching her eyes. "We're not finished yet," she said softly. "Not by a long shot."
Valentina stepped forward suddenly, forcing me back until my shoulders hit the wall.
My tray pressed uncomfortably between us, a flimsy barrier that did nothing to block the cold fury radiating from her.
This close, I could see the perfect application of her makeup, the flawless blend of her eyeshadow, the precise line of her lipstick.
Even her anger looked expensive, carefully cultivated and deployed with precision.
If this was the kind of woman Dario went for, I was definitely letting everyone’s interest cloud my judgement.
I was the complete opposite of this woman.
"Listen carefully, Blue Belle," Valentina said, leaning closer until I could smell the faint scent of vodka on her breath, expensive and clean but with a bitter edge.
"You need to understand something very important.
Dario belongs to me." The possessiveness in her voice made me flinch.
"We have history you couldn't possibly understand. "