“Remember, don’t make eye contact or else you’ll end up in a gutter.”
Bryn sucked in a breath as she slid the tray, loaded with drinks, from the bar. Not making eye contact was the easy part, balancing glasses filled to the brim and weaving her way through the crowded room was more of a challenge.
Not upending the tray before she took her first step was an accomplishment. One handed may have been the preferred carrying technique, but with the weigh of her load, there was no way that was going to happen.
“Oh, and Bryn.” Sally flashed her a sympathetic smile. “It’d help if you breathe.” No doubt, she experienced a similar sense of dread on her first time entering the VIP section of the nightclub.
Open and exposed for all to see, as if royalty on display—to be admired—Reeves Walker and his partners in crime seemed oblivious to those around them.
There was no questioning Highfliers had filled the club’s legal quota of guests for the evening and doubled it. But that was on someone else’s head, all Bryn had to do was pick a path to her destination and hope her tray wasn’t sent flying by an uncoordinated dance move.
A few women dripped from the mostly male group. Perfectly made up faces and manicured finger nails, complimented designer clothes and sexy stiletto heels, like a trade mark, set those of the in-crowd apart from the clingers on.
Reeves Walker, like the show-stopping centerpiece was seated in the midst of the elite. White leather low line modular sofas, sleek and every bit as stylish as those seated upon it lined the walls, giving the vibe of seclusion and intimacy, in the busy club.
Designer labels weren’t exclusive to the women. The fit of a well-cut Armani suit emphasized what she could only imagine to be a ripped body many women had delighted in running their hands over. She didn’t have to be close to Reeves to imagine he smelt as expensive as he looked, splashed with a heady fragrance to compliment his charm.
He’d not long been settled with his four most regular buddies when the women began to descend. A slight nod of his head was enough of an invitation for them to step over the threshold and into the cream. Reeves Walker was like the delectable cherry on top.
Laced with poison Bryn couldn’t imagine why a woman with any common sense would willingly risk the allure, but, over the past two weeks of working the bar, she’d witnessed the game over again. Acceptance into the circle meant a ticket to his bed. His reputation wasn’t rumor. Practically every night he left with a different women, and Bryn doubted he was being hospitable and ensuring they arrived home safe. He was a free agent to entertain whoever he pleased, but what she couldn’t understand was the willingness of women who frequented the club in hope of becoming the next notch on his belt. Surely even they realized that Reeves Walker was the master player, and he lined them up like pawns.
The only alteration she wished he’d make to his practice was that he sat in a position other than the one he occupied, so he was more easily accessible when waited upon.
No sooner had she spied an opening in the crowd, making delivery of the drinks a possibility, was it filled by a couple too caught up in each other to realize they were a hindrance.
Just my luck. There was no longer an easy way of serving him first, at least, not without putting the tray down on the table in front of him.
Bryn weighed up her options, risk spilling a full tray of drinks into the club owners lap, or set it down and smear his precious glass topped table—the perfect surface for cutting and lining up cocaine. Not a grain of dust need be missed when snorting from the polished black top, not to mention the ego trip as consumers watched themselves ingest the powdery substance in it’s reflection.
She knew drugs, almost as intimately as the Lord and every trick in his book, having been exposed to a scene many would class as a disadvantage. Bryn saw it as a constant reminder of what she’d never become. Employed to serve drinks in a drug lords club wasn’t the worse she could do. The money she worked for was earned, even if it was dished out by the hands of one so cold and heartless.
Super model good looks with his chiseled jaw and rich as dark chocolate hair she’d enjoy nothing more than to rake her fingers through. He was the prize most women came to Highfliers in hope of winning. But not Bryn. A tough guy she could handle, even one so good-looking, it was the reptilian ice interior that was incapable of fulfilling her needs.
She needed this job, so her next move was important. Another glance confirmed there to be no easy way to get around the mobs, so the glass top it was.
Keeping her line of sight at shoe level, she slid her way between two women, who were clearly absorbed in the men seated on their opposite side, and set the tray down.
A gasp from the woman to her left, despite the blaring music, caused attention like a spotlight on a solo act.
Bryn glanced up, jade green eyes, as mesmerizing as any drug he offered, met her gaze and held. Her lips parted and before giving any thought as to who she was addressing, she smiled. “Seems you already had a shower, I didn’t think you’d appreciate a stick mess in your lap.” Alternative meanings popped into her head as soon as the words escaped her mouth. She diverted her eyes, remembering Sally’s caution only moments earlier, but not before witnessing a smile tease the corner of his lips.
Swiping a cardboard coaster from the stack on her tray, she set it down on the pristine surface and placed his scotch on top. The order in which the drinks had been positioned so they made it to their rightful owner, no longer made sense. Since breaking the eye contact rule, she was certain her position as a waitress was currently up for grabs. A few mixed up drinks could do her no more damage so she dished them out as quickly as possible.
Before turning away, she stole another glance at Reeves. He was watching her, green eyes pierced the outer layer and she clenched to her core under his scrutiny. It wasn’t any wonder staff weren’t permitted to look him in the eye. This man possessed the ability to be the undoing of even the toughest of dealers; she’d be like a midnight snack to him.
She shuddered, sexy he may be, but the cruel dangerous reputation was enough to chill the warmth from her blood. With her head held high, and the deliberate sway of her hips with each step she took, Bryn walked over to where Sally stood watching her. “If I finish the night, do I still get paid?” She placed the tray on top of the bar and folded her arms across her chest.
If Sally weren’t her mentor, Bryn would’ve been intimidated under her constant watch.
With head tipped back, Sally let out a loud burst of laughter. “When his Lordship has a hard time fighting back a smile, from what was the most average delivery of drinks I’ve ever seen, I’d say you might have earned yourself immunity.”
“But I looked him in the eye.”
Sally picked up the tray from the bar and wiped it clean with a damp cloth. “You call that looking him in the eye?” She shook her head. “Honey, you all but ogled him.” Laughter followed as she handed the tray back to Bryn. “My bet is, before the night is through, you’ll be Reeves Walker’s requested waitress.” She turned to walk away, then stopped. “And, Bryn, that’s exactly where you want to be.” She winked, before attending to a waiting customer.
I had a lot of fun writing Bryn and Reeves’ story and hope you enjoyed the beginning of their little adventure.
❤ Brenna x