Chapter Six #3
The door swung open behind me, and I quickly straightened. Ricky, one of the newer servers, stepped inside, his arms full of clean glassware. He stopped when he saw me, his eyebrows drawing together in concern. "Belle? You okay?" he asked, setting down his load on a nearby shelf.
I forced a smile, aware it didn't reach my eyes. "Fine," I lied, reaching for a paper towel to dry my hands. "Just needed a minute."
Ricky studied my face, clearly not believing me.
We'd formed a tentative friendship over the past weeks, bonding over being new in a place that felt like it had a million unwritten rules.
He'd shown me which shortcuts to take between sections, which bartenders made the strongest drinks, which security guards were more likely to help with rowdy customers.
"You don't look fine," he said bluntly. "Was it a customer? Did someone get handsy? I can tell Wilson—"
"No, nothing like that," I assured him quickly. "Just... it's been a long night." I busied myself with arranging clean glasses on my tray, avoiding his concerned gaze.
Ricky stepped closer, lowering his voice. "Was it Valentina? I saw her heading toward the service corridor earlier, looking like she was on a mission."
My hands stilled on the glassware. "You know her?"
He snorted softly. "Everyone knows her. She's here at least twice a week, always watching Dario like she's waiting for him to mess up." He hesitated, then added, "She cornered one of the bartenders last month, asking all kinds of questions about who Dario talks to, who he spends time with."
"Why does she care? They're not together anymore, right?" The question slipped out before I could stop myself.
Ricky shrugged, but there was something guarded in his expression. "That's the official story. But with people like them..." He trailed off, then added cryptically, "Just watch yourself, Belle. I don’t think the owner's social circle is a safe place for people like us."
Another warning. First Mr. Longmire, then Valentina, now Ricky. All telling me the same thing in different ways. Stay away from Dario Luca.
"I need to get back to the floor," I said, picking up my freshly loaded tray. "The drinks for my new table are probably ready." I gave my usual cheerful smile.
Ricky smiled back, though his concerned expression didn't fade. "Just... be careful, okay?"
I nodded, forcing another smile. “Trust me. I have no desire to be part of any of that. I’m also not trying to get the boss’s attention.” I deliberately generalized Dario, hoping to make my point more believable.
I pushed through the door and headed back toward the main floor.
The music enveloped me as I emerged from the service area, the familiar buzz of conversation and laughter washing over me even as I was still reeling from the unexpected encounters.
If I were honest, Ricky’s concerns were more troubling than Valentina’s threats.
I delivered drinks to the blue table on autopilot, my smile professional but distant as I moved through my duties.
The weight of Valentina's warning followed me like a shadow, casting doubt over every interaction, every memory of my time at The Gray.
Had I misread everything? Had I seen kindness where there was only calculation, interest where there was only amusement?
And what could he possibly want from me?
The rational part of me knew I should listen to the warnings, should keep my head down, do my job, and stay far away from anything to do with Dario Luca.
But another part, a part I wasn't proud of, couldn't let go of the memory of his touch, of the intensity in his blue eyes when they'd held mine, of the gentleness in his hands as he'd tended my wounds.
I cleared empty glasses from a recently vacated table when I felt a prickling awareness at the back of my neck, the sensation of being watched. Slowly, I straightened, my eyes drawn almost against my will to the VIP section.
Dario stood at the railing overlooking the main floor, his tall figure imposing even at a distance.
His suit was impeccable as always, dark fabric tailored to showcase broad shoulders and a lean waist. Even across the crowded room, I could feel the power he radiated, the authority that seemed as much a part of him as his salt-and-pepper hair or his piercing blue eyes.
That frosty gaze found mine unerringly, as if he'd been waiting for me to look up, waiting for this moment of connection. The club seemed to fade around us, the noise dimming, the space between us charged with something I couldn't name but could feel down to my bones.
He didn't smile. Didn't nod. Didn't acknowledge me in any way beyond that steady, unblinking gaze.
Yet I felt pinned by it, unable to look away even as Valentina's warnings echoed in my head.
What did he see when he looked at me? A diversion?
A challenge? A temporary amusement, as Valentina had claimed?
Or did he see me? Really see me, Belle, the woman who baked cookies when she was nervous and who still couldn't quite believe she’s landed a job in a place like The Gray?
That question was easily answered. But as his gaze held mine across the crowded room, one thing became crystal clear.
Whatever game was being played between Dario and Valentina, I was now a piece on the board.
The question was, did I have any say in how I was moved, or was I simply a pawn to be sacrificed when I was no longer useful?
Dario's expression shifted almost imperceptibly, something darkening in his eyes, something that looked almost like concern. Had he somehow sensed my unease? Could he read the confusion on my face even from this distance?
I broke first, looking down at my tray of empty glasses, forcing myself to remember who I was, what I was doing here. Just a waitress. Just doing her job. Nothing more.
I took a deep breath, needing to keep my head planted firmly in reality.
But as I walked away, heading back toward the service bar, I could still feel his gaze following me, a tangible weight between my shoulder blades.
And despite all the warnings, despite my own better judgment, something inside me responded to that attention, a flutter of awareness that refused to be silenced by logic or fear.
Whatever happened next, I knew with absolute certainty that the careful distance I'd maintained from Dario Luca was crumbling. And I had no idea how to stop it…
Or if I even wanted to.