Page 15 of Vesper Martinis

“What?”

“You’re liked, and although that’s good for business, you can’t be… having relations with them. That’s a bad idea.”

Ooookay.

“Basically, don’t fuck the clientele,” he says, dropping the calm and going for exasperated instead.

What the fuck? Why is he telling me this? I know the rules. Hooking up with customers happens, but I know we aren’t supposed to. Anger builds in me, not only on the surface but deep down. The pain I’ve stomped down is starting to bubble to the surface.

“Okay, first of all, I’ve never done that. Second, I know the rules. I’ve been a bartender for years.”

“I know. And I know that it happens, but I need to make sure everyone knows the rules.”

I resist the urge to roll my eyes at how obnoxious he’s sounding. Sure, it’s his job as the boss to make sure we know the rules, but he’s treating me like a child. Every week I’m coming in here, and he’s telling me shit like this.

What the fuck is his problem?

“Do you have something against me? Why are you always pulling me in here to tell me shit I already know?”

He remains still as he says, “No. I don’t have anything against you.”

“Then why? What did I do?”

“Nothing,” he says. “You’re just new. To me, I mean. I know you’ve worked here for longer than me. But I did this with other bartenders I’ve worked with. You don’t get an exception.”

I stare at him like he’s got a second head.

“I don’t get an exception? What about the others? You don’t fuck with them nearly as much as me.” I shake my head. “You know what. I think I know what this is about. This is about us.”

He raises an eyebrow. “There is no us, so why would you think that?”

Fucking bastard.

“Because we have history. And whether you want to admit it or not, it happened. I don’t know what the fuck you’re doing pretending it didn’t happen, but stop it. Stop fucking with me.”

Pierce gets up from his desk and moves to the side where I can see all of him—from his blue suit down to his dark brown loafers.

I stand and step towards him, and he doesn’t move. The closer I get, the more I can smell his cologne. The same one he wore at the bar six months ago—the one that’s haunted my dreams and nightmares. The kind of cologne I bought even though I hated him. Because there’s some reason I won’t let go even though it’d be so much easier if I did.

“I know you know me, man, so cut the shit.” I stab at his chest with my pointer finger, and electricity buzzes between us. I’m tired of this nonsense. I should’ve confronted this man months ago, but I guess I was too scared to hear what he really thought if he told me. Well… not anymore.

Thick tension swirls in the room as I realize I am so close to him that I can feel his body heat. I can see how his white shirt molds to his chest, and I can count the eyelashes behind his black-rimmed glasses.

In one moment, I go from wanting to storm out to cupping the back of his neck and pulling him closer to me. Our chests meet, our mouths open, and we are both panting softly with no words coming out.

I look him in the eyes and say, “You say you don’t know me. Maybe it’s time I remind you.” Then I slam my lips against his. His lips still taste the same as when we first met, and I feel myself leaning against him and into his warmth.

At first, he doesn’t move. He stands completely still, and regret hits me hard.

Fuck. I shouldn’t have done that.

I pull back, releasing him, and look down at the ground, unable to meet his gaze. Then a couple of fingers under my chin pulls my head up and cups my jaw.

With a cruel tone, he growls, “If you’re going to go for something, go for it. Boy.”

That “boy” sets off fireworks in my belly, and I want to touch him so badly, but that it also makes the submission set in. As much as I want to grip the back of his neck and pull him into me, I can’t. My body wants him in control. Pierce smirks and I see something shift in his eyes, like he’s giving in after holding on for so long. But the second he shows it, he seems to pull back and returns to being the man with all the control. He grips my hips and pulls me with him until his back is against the wall. He rubs his erection against mine, over our pants, and I fucking wish we were naked.

I move my hand from his hip to his belt, trying to loosen it.

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