Cruel Vows

PAISLEY

“Fuck, we’re slammed,” Alice says, shaking her head as she gazes at the ever-growing crowd around the bar. “How are we supposed to keep up?”

“Fuck knows,” I say back, shrugging.

It’s a Saturday night, which is always the busiest, but tonight is the worst it’s ever been. After last night’s ordeal, I didn’t even want to come in tonight. Elijah is getting more and more pushy and if he tries anything I can’t promise I won’t kick him in the balls, which would get me in serious shit with the MC.

To make matters worse, all thirty-one of the club’s members are here, adding to our workload. I sense something big is going down tonight, as it’s rare they all gather here. Rick didn’t want to talk about it when I asked him. He was unusually quiet for once tonight.

“Can I get some fucking service?” One guy shouts, looking increasingly angry.

“I’ll be with you in one minute,” I say, pouring my current customers three scotches on the rocks.

“I’ve only been waiting for fifteen already,” he quips.

One of the regular patrons, Bob, shakes his head. “Give her a break, man. Can’t you see they’re short staffed and working as fast as they can?”

“Shut it, old man.”

Bob stands, squaring up to the younger guy, who is at least a foot smaller than Bob. “Who you calling old?”

Shit.

We never get through a night this busy without at least one brawl.

Thankfully, this isn’t it, as the younger guy backs down, shaking his head. “Fuck this place.”

He turns to leave and slams into a ridiculously tall man who looks familiar, but I can’t work out why. The man’s nostrils flare as he glares down at the guy. “Watch where you’re going.”

That voice sends awareness down my spine. I know that voice as it’s haunted my dreams every night since the party. It’s the mystery man from the ladies’ bathroom at the Morrone mansion. My brain must not have been working right, as I didn’t recognize him initially. He looks different with his hair messier and not slicked back, wearing a pair of black pants and a tight white shirt that’s only buttoned half-way up.

The asshole that was causing a stir senses danger and dodges around him, leaving the bar.

I hate that I can’t keep my eyes off the man I met at the party, who I’ve been unable to erase from my mind. Those dark chocolate brown eyes fix on me and it feels like he sucks all the oxygen out of the room. My heart pounds a little harder and faster at his attention and my palms being to sweat.

My eyes dip back to the open shirt where dark ink scrolls over his chest, and I clench my thighs. This man certainly shouldn’t be here. He sticks out like a sore thumb with his chunky gold Rolex and designer clothes. A churning erupts in my gut as I wonder if he’s here to see me, which is a ridiculous notion. The look in his eyes is predatory, as if he’s starving and ready to devour me.

A woman clears her throat rather obviously, forcing me to stop staring at the adonis who just entered and get back to my job.

“Sorry,” I say, plastering on an uneasy smile. “What can I get you?”

“No worries.” She smiles. “Can I get two margaritas, please?”

“Of course.” I turn around to the preparation station behind me, grabbing two cocktail glasses. The shit readymade cocktail mixers Axel insists we serve are in the fridge under the counter, so I kneel and grab them out. They’re cheaper and considering how slammed we are tonight, I won’t complain that they’re faster to put together.

My hands shake as I pour the mixer into the glasses and then add the correct measures of orange liqueur and tequila, stirring them quickly.

As I turn around, I almost slam into Alice, who is rushing past me. It’s a miracle I don’t spill the drinks as I walk to the bar and set them down safely on the top. “That’ll be twelve dollars, please.”

The woman counts out the exact change. “Thanks,” she says, grabbing the drinks and leaving.

I sigh and collect the cash, knowing despite how busy we are, tips are going to be as bad as always. The cash register is brimming with cash, which makes me resent how little I get paid for this shit.

A young guy who has been waiting for a while is the next customer, but as I reach him, the mystery man pushes in front of him and locks eyes on me.

“I’ll have a scotch, princess,” he says, his deep accented voice sending shivers down my spine.

I don’t care who this guy is, but he’s not next in the queue. “I’m sorry, sir, but I have to prioritize customers who’ve been waiting the longest.”

He raises a brow, a handsome smirk spreading onto his lips. “Is that right? I assume you do not know who I am?”

The comment grates on my nerves, as he wouldn’t tell me who he was while he kissed me like no one ever had. “Who you are doesn’t mean shit in a place like this.”

He runs a hand through his medium length dark hair. “Can you tell Axel I’m here for our meeting?”

My spine stiffens. “Meeting?”

His dark eyes flash with amusement. “Yes, Massimo Morrone. Here for a meeting with Axel.”

Massimo Morrone.

So these past five days I’ve been fantasizing about a mobster. My mouth dries a little as I nod. “Sure, I’ll let him know.” I grab a whiskey tumbler. “Let me get you that scotch first.” Axel will kill me if he finds out I refused Massimo Morrone’s drinks order, telling him to wait his turn.

He chuckles, but it’s not exactly friendly. “No need, just take me to your boss.”

I decide it’s probably best not to refuse any more of his demands, not now I know he’s a Morrone. They practically run this city and anyone who wants to stay alive should stay the fuck out of their way. “Okay, follow me.” I quickly move toward Alice. “Massimo Morrone is here to see Axel. I’ll be back as fast as I can.”

“Massimo Morrone?” Alice asks, eyes wide.

“Yeah, apparently Axel’s expecting him.”

She shrugs. “Fuck knows. No one ever tells me shit around here.”