“Good. I’ve got some whiskey samples from a local distillery. I know you like your whiskey, so maybe you can try them with me? I need to decide if I want to stock them or not.”
I nodded, my belly twisting.Oh, hell. A late-night close with Dante. “Happy to help. Oh, and I have a new cocktail creation I think the customers would like.”
His teeth flashed white against his skin. “You and your cocktails.”
“Hey, the Fiery Phoenix has been super popular.” I’d made up the cocktail a week ago and the clientele loved it.
“I know.” He held up a hand. “You try my whiskey, I’ll try your new cocktail.”
I almost said ‘it’s a date’ but managed to stifle the words. It wasn’t a date. It would never be a date. “I’d better get these drinks made. Thirsty customers.”
I whirled away, but I felt his gaze digging into my back.
When I glanced his way again, he was gone. I blew out a breath and my shoulders sagged. I needed to definitelynotget too close to Dante Fury.
The rest of my shift was a blur—tipsy customers, lots of drinks, sore feet.
And somehow, from time to time, I still felt Dante’s gaze on me.
Shaking my head, I reached for a cocktail glass.You’re imagining things, Mila.
* * *
DANTE
Standing at the large window in my office, I watched the club through the one-way glass.
Mine.
As I took in the dark floor, the gold ceiling, and long bar along the wall—not to mention the clubgoers spending lots of money at my bar—I clasped my hands behind my back.
All mine, and I was fucking proud of it. I’d planned every detail, picked every staff member, managed every aspect. My staff was currently switching to clean-up mode, as closing time drew nearer. They were the embodiment of a well-oiled machine.
I wouldn’t accept anything less.
Heading toward the low, wooden cabinet against the far wall, I reached for the decanter full of my favorite bourbon resting on top of it. I grabbed a crystal tumbler, and poured a splash.
I wouldn’t have more than one, not while the club was open. I only indulged when I was at home, with my brothers. It was the only time I let my guard down.
Swirling the liquor, I turned back to the window. My desk was behind me, and I should be sitting at it, dealing with work. My laptop was open, and I’d been sorting through orders and paperwork.
I sipped and enjoyed the sweet, smoky burn.
Letting my gaze drift over the crowd, I took in the dancers on the dance floor, the people standing at high tables sipping their drinks, the small groups in the VIP area. Everyone was behaving, and I knew I could trust my security team to spot any trouble.
Movement at the bar caught my attention. My newest hire, Mila Clarke.
She moved well, and was good at her job. Organized and efficient. I frowned. I couldn’t quite get a read on her. She didn’t have the vibe of a seasoned bartender. The things that stood out the most were her bad dye job, and the fact that she was smart. Really smart. She hadn’t had much experience at first, but she’d picked things up quickly. She was hard-working, I’d give her that.
She also had dark smudges under her eyes, and I wondered if she worked a day job, too.
The woman had high, thick walls. And she wasn’t keen for anyone to penetrate them.
I understood that. Hell, I’d had my own version of that growing up.
My thoughts turned to her face. High cheekbones, perfectly shaped lips, and killer curves that her black trousers didn’t hide. Plus, she had that glint in her gray eyes.
Sharp-edged secrets, but also a hint of challenge.
