Chapter Seven #2
"I did." Marcus stretched his legs out, making himself comfortable. "She asked which other staff.” He shook his head innocently. “I couldn't lie to that poor girl."
"You couldn't lie?" I repeated incredulously. "Since when?"
Marcus laughed. "Since she looked at me with those big green eyes like she could see straight through bullshit. Reminded me of a puppy."
"Jesus Christ," I muttered, shoving the cocktail recipes aside. "She's not a puppy, she's an employee who's refusing a reasonable request."
"This really is the first time a woman's ever turned you down for a date." Marcus sounded both amused and stunned, his tone conversational but his eyes sharp with interest. "I'm trying to remember if I've ever seen you rejected before."
"I told you, it's not a date," I said automatically, though the words sounded hollow even to my ears. "And no, it's not the first time."
It was, though. At least, the first time in many years.
When you controlled a significant portion of a city's underground economy, when your name was whispered with equal parts fear and respect, when you had both money and power in abundance.
.. women didn't say no. They calculated the benefits of saying yes.
Marcus raised an eyebrow, clearly not believing me. "So this level of brooding is your standard response to professional disappointment? Not, say, the wounded pride of a man who's used to getting what he wants?"
I glared at him. "I don't brood."
"Really?" He gestured around the dimly lit office. "Single lamp, whiskey glass, staring out at the city lights while contemplating your existence? What would you call it?"
"Strategic planning," I snapped, though I couldn't help the slight twitch of my lips. Marcus had always been able to see through my bullshit, a quality that made him both invaluable and incredibly annoying.
"Well, your strategy isn't working." He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Belle is concerned about her reputation among the staff. She doesn't want to be seen as getting special treatment or as..." He hesitated.
"As what?" I demanded.
"As the boss's latest conquest," he finished bluntly. "Apparently there are rumors."
I felt my jaw tighten. "What kind of rumors?"
"The usual. That you've taken an interest in her, that she's been singled out for attention." Marcus shrugged. "And given your history with Valentina, people are drawing their own conclusions."
"Valentina was different," I said sharply. "That was a calculated relationship from the start. Both of us knew what we were getting into."
"Until she decided to sleep with the enemy," Marcus reminded me.
I waved a hand dismissively, though the memory still stung. "The point is, I'm not trying to seduce Belle. I just want her input on the new menu."
Marcus's expression made it clear he didn't believe a word of it. "Right. Because of all your staff, the new cocktail waitress with two weeks of experience is the one whose opinion you value most."
Put that way, my excuse did sound pathetically transparent. But I wasn't ready to admit defeat, not yet. Not when the thought of seeing Belle in the private setting had occupied so much of my mental space over the past days.
"Go tell Belle this is nonnegotiable," I said, my voice taking on the edge of command I typically used in business. "She doesn’t need to like my company. She does have to do as she’s told.”
Marcus stared at me for a beat before laughing outright, the sound filling my quiet office.
"You're really going to pull rank? Force her to spend time with you?
Oh, and by the way, you really need to come up with a different excuse.
Not because just because it sounds like a piss poor excuse, but because it is a piss poor excuse. "
When he put it like that, it sounded petty and controlling. Perhaps it was. But I'd built an empire by pursuing what I wanted with single-minded determination, by refusing to accept obstacles or detours. Belle's rejection was just another obstacle to overcome.
"It's a legitimate business reason," I insisted, leaning back in my chair. "Other high-end establishments conduct tastings with their staff."
"True," Marcus conceded, still looking amused. "But they usually involve more than one staff member. And usually not the waitstaff.”
I waved a hand impatiently. "Fine. Invite Sophia too if it makes Belle more comfortable."
"And how long into the tasting before you find a reason to send Sophia away?" Marcus asked knowingly.
I didn't answer, instead glaring at my friend and bodyguard. Which was answer enough.
Marcus stood up, shaking his head. "You know, for a man who's built his reputation on calculating every move, you're being remarkably transparent right now."
"Just go get her," I said, refusing to acknowledge the truth in his words. "Tell her whatever you need to, but get her here for the tasting tomorrow."
"As you wish, boss." Marcus headed for the door. "But consider this. Maybe she'd be more interested if you weren't trying to command her presence like you order everything else in your life."
The suggestion lingered in the air after he left. I turned back to the window, watching the city below. Marcus had a point, though I was reluctant to admit it. My usual tactics might not work with Belle. I might even push her further away.
But I'd never been good at asking for things I wanted. In my world, you took what you wanted or you went without. The middle ground of persuasion, of earning someone's willing participation, was unfamiliar territory.
The fact that I was essentially manipulating her into spending time with me didn't sit as well as it should have. But I pushed the discomfort aside. After all, I always got what I wanted, eventually. Even if my methods could be somewhat questionable.