“Oh, shit. Rich is not me; I wish.”
That has me thinking of what I was asking myself earlier.
“Why do you work here?” I ask.
She pops a brow. “Are you forgetting the rules?”
I run my tongue over my teeth. Her sassiness tonight is fucking turning me on.
“No. I just want to know more about you.” Our eyes are locked with an intense stare, and we hold it for a moment before she speaks huskily.
“We are playing, remember, but I’ll choose the truth, so you get the answer.” She winks and then sips her drink. “I go to college, so I’m here paying for that until I can get a traineeship.”
I smile, loving how she is working to better herself and not living off her parents, or waiting for a man to rescue her. She is working for what she wants. And that to me is fucking sexy.
“So, working here is just temporary, not a chosen career?”
“Why? What’s wrong with working in a bar?” she asks, furrowing her brow.
“Nothing at all if that’s what you want to do, but as I have gotten to know you, I see more potential.”
“Oh, really?”
“Yes, you’re very good here. I have seen you and you’re on top of everything, including the dick tonight who slipped drugs into the girl’s drink. The way you caught him and reported him speaks volumes. You’re on the ball and very hardworking.”
Her mouth is partly open before she swallows and asks. “You could see all that?”
“Yes,Bella,” I say with a frown.
Why can’t she believe it?
Chapter 5
Gracie
HecalledmeBella.
The only “Bella” I know is for the wordbeautifulin Italian. But did he really just call me that? I know for certain I heard it. I bite my lip, hiding my smile. The warmth spreading over my chest just from the name is moving to my cheeks.
Not only does he call meBella, but he sees my potential?
How does this stranger feel so connected to me? I haven’t even gotten my biological parents thinking that way. No, they see me as worthless and unlovable. But as I stare at Marc, there is a genuine warmth coming from him, and I believe him. At this moment, I have no reason not to.
Other than my fill-in parents and my friends, I stay low key. But tonight, with him, I’m relaxed—I’m me. And it’s refreshing to have someone else to talk to.
“What are your plans for tomorrow. I mean today?” he asks.
Not wanting to discuss my family dynamics right now, I keep it short and simple. “I’m having Christmas lunch with family, and then I’ll see my best friend for dinner. How about you?”
A lock of hair falls on his face, so without thought, I shift forward in my seat. But as I lift my hand, he pushes it back with his fingers, and I can see his heated gaze staring back at me. As the night has worn on, he’s undone a button and pushed his shirt sleeves up, definitely becoming more relaxed too.
“If I get out of here, I’ll be having Christmas lunch with my family,” he says with a lopsided grin that creases his eyes and sends heat to my core.
“And dinner?” Call me curious, but I’m trying to soak up as much information as I can get from him.
“No plans. I’ll probably work or sleep.” He shrugs, but continues to stare at me before asking, “Do you have brothers or sisters?”
Nausea rolls in my stomach thinking about it. But it’s sweet he is asking me personal questions. This is what makes him different. Other guys don’t give a shit. “No. What about you?”