“She’s full of surprises,” Dominic remarked, seemingly reading my mind.
It struck me that my own presence might be out of place here. Yet, what were my alternatives? My resume was certainly . . . unconventional.
Shaking my head, I was pulled back to a memory of Nikos. Our whirlwind romance centered around travel and adventure. But he’d chosen a different path, one that didn’t include me. The breakup had been unexpected and had hit me like a ton of bricks. There were things Nikos had said about me during his long speech as to why we wouldn’t work that still sat, sour, in my belly.
Dominic’s voice interrupted my reflections. “You okay, Iz?”
I met his gaze, forcing a smile. “Just taking it all in. It’s . . . different.” My voice carried a touch of loneliness, betraying my feelings of being adrift amidst so many choices.
A brief silence settled between us, the weight of unsaid things hovering. The ambient sounds of the Prism Society filled the void—soft music coming from the speakers, distant chatter of other staff members showing up, and the clink of glasses as Max stocked the bar.
“All right, Iz,” Dom broke the quiet, his voice more business-like now, “I got you set up in the system, so you should be able to clock in.” As he slid on his coat, he added, “Be back here tomorrow, but closer to two so Max can walk you through everything.”
“Where are you going?” I blurted, feeling a pang of abandonment. The idea of navigating the unfamiliar space without Dominic was daunting, and I wasn’t ready to leave the comfort of my current surroundings.
“I have dinner plans,” he said, shrugging his shoulders like it was no big deal.
“Dinner? But I just got here. I thought we could catch up or something.” My voice came out more desperate than I had intended. How desperate would I really be if I practically had to beg my little brother to hang out with me? It had always been like this with them. Even as his sister, I never got past the surface level of Dom. Either because he didn’t trust to share it with anyone, or he didn’t trust to share it with me.
“Sorry, Iz, I’ll see you tomorrow, though.” Dominic turned, lifted his arm in a wave, parted the heavy velvet curtains, and let them sway shut behind him.
“Asshole,” I said under my breath, but it still brought out a chuckle from behind me.
I turned on my heel to face Max. All I wanted at this point was to get out of this damp dress, out of my water-logged heels, and into the warmth of sweats and a bed with a glass of red wine. But I had none of those things. Well, my sweats were buried in some suitcase, waiting to be unearthed. The bed was one of my parents’ guestrooms, but the wine could be plucked from my parents’ cellar. One out of three wasn’t bad.
“You look like you could use a drink.” Max sat an empty wineglass he’d buffed on the marble bar top.
“Do I look that haggard?” I hoped he didn’t answer honestly.
“I don’t think you could look haggard if you tried. Just . . . maybe lonely.” When I looked up at him, his eyes were soft, not condescending.
“I think I’m still jet-lagged,” I said as I walked over to the bar, pulled out a stool, and slid in.
“If this is what you look like jet-lagged, I can’t wait to see you refreshed.” Max grinned as he pulled a bottle off the rack and worked the cork. My eyes followed how his arm flexed as he held the bottle in one hand and twisted with the other.
“Is this how you get women to order more drinks?” I watched as a deep red wine filled the glass in front of me.
He shrugged. “The club has a two-drink limit.” He placed a stopper in the bottle and said, “Besides, the women who come to this bar aren’t here for my attention, so I don’t need to flirt with them.”
“But you are flirting? Right now?” I reached for the wineglass and slid it across the counter. I swirled the inky liquid and took a deep inhale. Tobacco, chocolate, and spices. This was a good red.
“If I were flirting right now,” his eyes scanned down the front of me as he said, “I’d tell you I can’t wait to get my sweatshirt back so I can see what rubbing against your chest smells like and that I’m not going to look away as you slip it off because I know it’s still cold in here.”
My eyes flew open wide, and my face warmed from the first sip of the red wine and Max’s comments. My tongue reached out to taste the wine on my lips, and Max’s eyes followed the movement. Jesus.
“Is this how you talk to all of your employees?” I asked.
He grinned. “Just when I feel like they’re stuck in their head too much.”
I stared into my wineglass as I twirled the stem between my fingers. Apparently, my identity crisis had been clearly playing out all over my face.
“So,” I cleared my throat and sat up straighter, “how does someone like you end up working at a place like this?”
“Now that sounds like a cheesy pickup line.” Max had gone back to polishing glasses, and I wondered how someone’s hands could be so big.
I chuckled. “I’m serious. This place”—I looked around the lounge—“is unique. Why here?”
“Well, I’m working through my sommelier certification and needed a bit of a less chaotic place to work so I could focus on studying but still make good money. I’ve known your brother for years, so when I heard about this place, I reached out.”
