Page 31 of Tied Up in Riches

Marcus

Leaning on the doorless divide between the main part of the bar and the back rooms, I take in the event. The usual moody 70s vibe is nowhere to be found. Instead, it’s been replaced by romance. Red metallic fringe hangs in front of all the glass window walls at the entrance to the bar. It’s nearly one in the afternoon, but the streamers covering the windows create a deep red glow in the room. The usual red shades over the lights only enhance it.

Red heart balloons hang mid-air. How the hell did Brooke get them to do that? A row of cocktails lines the edge of the bar. Lexy created a special drink for the morning. I assumed it would be mimosas, but the deep shade of red tells me it might be a liquor drink.

Five giant black rectangle cushions form a circle on the floor. They’re big enough for three women to either sit on or lay across–a few girls immediately made themselves comfortable on their stomachs, feet kicked up in the air, chins propped up by their fists. There are more people than there is room for on the giant pillows, but no one seems to mind. Everyone invades the personal space of their friends and acts like the ones they met today are lifelong buddies. There must be at least 50 women here, if not more.

Brooke sits criss-crossed in black athletic shorts and an oversized white sweatshirt. The black lettering on the front says “here for the” in cursive along the edge of a block letter “B.” Avery had them made for the four of them. I can’t hear Brooke from where I’m standing, but I can tell she addresses the group with enthusiasm. She looks comfortable and happy–so much so that I silently excuse myself and retreat to my office.

I could leave the building. I’m not needed. I’m sure she will give me a full report when the event is over. I stay anyway.

An hour later, a light rapping against the doorframe startles me from the book I’m reading.

“Hey, there, boss.”

Fucking hell. There’s that word again. Everyone who works for me at the bar has known me since before I owned it. They call me by my name. Everyone I do business with initially addresses me as Mr. Cole until I convince them Marcus is fine. Brooke is the first person who has actually felt like an employee, but even so, that’s not exactly what she feels like.

And the way boss rolls off her tongue so smoothly, I don’t mind the name. I shake my head and bring myself back to the moment before my thoughts stray to another place where I’d like to be in charge of her.

“Hello.” Picking up my bookmark from the desk, I slide it in place.

“Here, I brought you these.” She holds out a plate with a crepe and a rocks glass filled with red liquid.

I take them from her, examining both. The thin golden pancake is perfectly folded into a triangle with a layer of Nutella inside and sliced strawberries shaped into a heart on the top. It’s sprinkled with crushed nuts and a dollop of whipped cream. “Thank you,” I say, my gaze flitting to her only momentarily before they are on the drink. As I bring it to my lips, I notice the silver glitter swirling in the liquid and frown, my brows scrunching as I send Brooke a look.

She laughs. “It’s edible glitter. I promise. I wouldn’t poison you. If I did, who would pay me for this kick-ass event?”

A smirk slips out, but I wipe it off my face. I set the drink on the desk, still not trusting a drink that sparkles. “How is everything going?”

“Perfect,” she says, moving a step closer to me in the process. The bare skin on her knee nearly brushes my thigh, but she doesn’t seem to notice. “There are 52 people here! If my math is correct, our cut alone is enough to cover the included drink for everyone and enough profit to cover all the decorations–that are reusable by the way–and marketing we did. It’s impressive considering I’ve only been advertising for about a week and a half. I think even more people will come next Wednesday. Everyone is having so much fun.”

Her animated rambling brings her closer to me and when our legs touch, her excitement cracks me. I lick my lip, biting it to hold back a grin, but it’s no use. She’s contagious. “Sounds like you are having fun.” That fact makes me way happier than it should.

“I really am.” Her hand lands on my shoulder, and my eyes flick to it on contact. She pulls away immediately like she thinks it was a mistake and steps back to create distance between us. “Thank you again for this.”

“I should be the one thanking you. Sounds like this might be better than I even hoped.” I wonder if she’s ever considered running her own business. She seems to have the talent for it, and it’s hot as hell.

She smiles softly, her eyes flitting to the floor like she’s shy all of a sudden. Or maybe she just doesn’t know how to take the compliment. In the next instant, she pulls her wrist to her line of sight, staring at the screen of her watch. Her chest visibly heaves with a deep breath and she closes her eyes.

“What is it?”

“Just Satan, herself.”

“Satan is a woman?” I quirk a brow.

“My mother.” She sighs, pulling her phone from where it’s tucked into the band of her shorts, showing a sliver of stomach when she does. My body tenses seemingly everywhere but my heartbeat which is running like a wild horse. For fuck’s sake, I need to get laid or something. She reads the full text on her phone. “She wants more details about my homecoming.”

“To Connecticut?”

“Yeah.”

Oh. For some reason, my stomach drops, and I reach for a stray pen on the desk, flipping it in my fingers–a habit I picked up from Troy. “That’s far.”

“I haven’t been back in three years.”

A blonde ponytail swings into the office, attached to Lexy wearing a sweater matching Brooke’s along with a pair of cut-off jean shorts. “Ugh. Your mom again?”

Brooke turns to her and nods. “She’s driving me nuts about visiting.”

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