Chapter Six #2
"I don't want—" I started, but she pressed the tray harder against my chest, cutting off my words.
"What you want is irrelevant," she said, her voice dropping to a near whisper that somehow seemed louder than the music around us.
"Dario and I have been together for years.
Do you think you're the first pretty little thing he's shown interest in?
" Her laugh was brittle, sharp enough to cut.
"You're not special, Belle. You're a distraction. A temporary amusement."
I tried to shift sideways, to find some escape route from this confrontation, but Valentina moved with me, her body blocking mine with practiced ease.
"I don't know what you think is happening," I said, working to keep my voice steady, "but there's nothing between Mr. Luca and me.
He helped me when I was hurt, that's all. "
"Oh, sweet girl." Valentina shook her head, her expression a mockery of sympathy.
"Do you really believe Dario Luca helps anyone out of the goodness of his heart?
" She leaned closer, her breath warm against my ear.
"Dario never helps anyone without demanding payment. Every kindness comes with a price tag."
My breath caught in my throat. Something in her tone, in the absolute certainty with which she spoke, sent a chill down my spine.
I thought about the night of the whiskey spill, how Dario had knelt beside me, how gentle his hands had been on my injured palm.
Had there been calculation in that moment that I'd been too naive to see?
Valentina's eyes flicked down to my hand, to the spot where the cuts were bandaged. "And trust me," she continued, "his price will be more than you can afford." Her words dripped with a knowledge that made my skin crawl, secrets about Dario that I wasn't privy to, truths I couldn't guess at.
I gripped my tray tighter, my fingertips pressing hard enough to leave marks on my palms. The small cuts on my palm stung but I couldn’t seem to loosen my grip. The ghost of Dario's touch seemed to linger on my skin, both comforting and unsettling in light of Valentina's warnings.
"When he's done with you — and he will be done with you sooner than you realize — he'll come back to me," Valentina said, absolute certainty in her voice.
"He always does. We understand each other in ways you never could.
" She reached up, her fingertips hovering near my cheek without quite touching, a mockery of a caress.
"You're a passing fancy. A novelty. Do you know how quickly novelties wear off in Dario's world? "
Movement at the end of the corridor caught my attention.
A bartender appeared, his arms full of fresh bar towels.
He glanced our way, taking in the scene.
I could imagine what it looked like. Valentina pressing me against the wall, my wide eyes, the tray clutched to my chest like a shield, all made for cute little drama.
For a moment, I thought he might intervene.
Our eyes met briefly, and I tried to telegraph my distress without words.
But something in his expression shifted, a calculation visible even from this distance.
He quickly averted his gaze and hurried past us, the service door swinging shut behind him with a soft thud.
The message was clear. No one would interfere with Valentina Reeves when she was on the warpath. Whatever power Dario wielded at The Gray, Valentina clearly commanded her own brand of fear and respect. Which proved her point. Dario always came back to her. Likely the reason she wielded power here.
My fingers trembled against the tray. For the first time since starting at The Gray, I felt truly out of my depth.
This wasn't just a luxurious club where I served drinks and collected generous tips.
There were currents moving beneath the surface that I couldn't see or understand, connections that extended far beyond these walls.
"You think you know him because he showed you a moment of kindness," Valentina continued, reading the doubt on my face with frightening accuracy.
"You know nothing about Dario Luca. Nothing about who he really is, what he's capable of, or what he requires from the people in his life.
" Her voice dropped lower, became almost intimate.
"You think those little cookies you baked could possibly satisfy a man like him?
Dario devours people whole, Belle. He consumes them and moves on, leaving nothing but scraps behind. "
I swallowed hard, trying to push down the knot of fear in my throat. How did she know about my baking? Had she been watching me that closely? The thought made me feel exposed, vulnerable in ways I hadn't anticipated.
"I just want to do my job," I whispered, hating how small my voice sounded in the narrow space between us. "That's all I'm here for."
"Is it?" Valentina challenged, her eyes searching mine. "Then why do you watch him when you think no one is looking? Why does your breath catch when he enters a room?"
Oh God! Had I been so obvious? I thought I'd hidden my inexplicable attraction to Dario, buried it beneath professionalism and the desperate need to keep this job. But apparently, I'd been transparent, readable not just to Valentina but perhaps to everyone at The Gray.
"I don't—" I started, but the lie died on my lips. What was the point of denying it when she'd clearly seen the truth written across my face?
Valentina's expression hardened, any pretense of politeness vanishing.
"You need to understand your place in this world, little mouse.
You're staff. Disposable. Replaceable." Her nail tapped against the tray, the sound sharp and final. "Dario might be amused by you for now, but men like him don't change. Not for anyone, and certainly not for some waitress who can’t deliver drinks without spilling them and has a hunger for a man she thinks can save her from a life of living paycheck to paycheck. Even if you manage to crawl into his bed, you’ll never get his money. Dario doesn’t need prostitutes. "
The truth of her words cut deeper than I wanted to admit.
Who was I to think someone like Dario Luca would see me as anything more than temporary entertainment?
I was a nobody from nowhere, barely keeping my head above water, while he commanded an empire built on wealth and power I couldn't begin to comprehend.
Of course it would look like I was gold digging!
"Do we understand each other?" Valentina asked, her voice silky with triumph as she read the defeat in my eyes.
I gathered the last shreds of my courage and pushed forward suddenly, breaking Valentina's invisible hold.
"Excuse me," I said again, my voice stronger this time as I slid sideways along the wall, creating enough space to slip past her.
My heart hammered against my ribs, adrenaline making my movements jerky as I put distance between us.
I expected her to grab me, to continue her verbal assault, but she merely turned, watching me retreat with cool amusement.
"You're out of your depth, little mouse," she called after me, her voice bouncing off the narrow corridor walls. "Ask around about what happened to the last waitress who caught his eye."
I froze mid-step, a chill racing up my spine.
The last waitress? What did that mean? I half-turned, curiosity warring with self-preservation.
Valentina stood where I'd left her, a satisfied smile playing at the corners of her perfectly painted lips.
She knew she'd hooked me with that parting shot, knew I was balanced on the knife-edge of asking for more.
The smart move would be to walk away, to ignore her baiting comment and continue with my shift as if nothing had happened. But the implication hung in the air between us, heavy with unspoken threat. What had happened to this other waitress? And was I headed down the same path?
My curiosity lost out to fear. I turned away without asking and continued down the corridor, my steps quickening until I was nearly running. I could feel Valentina's gaze drilling into my back until I rounded the corner and escaped her line of sight.
The staff room door stood ajar, spilling fluorescent light into the dimmer hallway.
I slipped inside, grateful to find the room momentarily empty.
My tray clattered loudly as I set it down on the counter, my hands shaking too badly to control the noise.
I leaned against the edge of the sink, trying to steady my breathing, trying to process what had just happened.
Valentina's words echoed in my head. Each phrase felt like a needle, pricking at the bubble of security I'd built around myself these past weeks. Was there truth in her warnings, or was this just the jealous attack of a possessive ex who couldn't let go?
I turned on the cold water, wetting a paper towel to pat my face carefully to avoid ruining my makeup while giving some comfort to my heated skin.
When I looked up, catching my reflection in the small mirror above the sink, I barely recognized myself.
My cheeks were flushed with emotion, my eyes too wide, too bright.
I looked haunted, hunted. I pressed my palms against my cheeks, trying to cool the heat there, trying to compose myself before I had to return to the floor.
Valentina was right. I was out of my depth.
This world of wealth and power, of unspoken rules, it wasn't mine.
I was just passing through, collecting paychecks and tips, trying to build something stable for myself.
Getting caught up in whatever game Dario and Valentina were playing would only end in disaster. For me, not them.